“Just say it,” Luna said to Jameson, feeling impatient because . . . well, because he looked better than any man had a right to. “Say whatever it is you think I’m not going to like. I’m not a special snowflake.”
He met her gaze, reluctant amusement in his. “I’ve noticed. And I’m grateful, as you’re the perfect person to be managing this place. You’re pretty kick-ass, I hope you know that.”
Something weird happened low in her belly at the compliment. “And . . . ?”
“And . . . you know we’re bleeding money here. That we need to tighten the belt. The way I see it, we have only a few options.”
“Such as you leaving, trusting me to fix things on my own?” she asked with a sweet smile.
He smiled. “Good to know where you stand, but no. We’re in this mess together. And there’s a time limit on this.”
“The balloon payment,” she said.
“That, and the fact that my max leave without losing my job is two months.”
She tried to figure out how she felt about this and settled on offended. “This isn’t some hobby for me, Jameson. It’s a full-time job. More than a full-time job.”
“I know. You work twelve-hour days, and I’m in awe of all you handle.”
He was in awe of all she handled?
“But,” he said.
Oh great. A but.
“We’re barely breaking even, Luna. And that’s not going to just go away. Back to our options. One, we work together. Or two—which sucks, but it is an option—you could sell your fifty percent.”
Look at that, she was offended and ticked off. “Let me guess. To you?”
“Or the investors.”
She stared at him. “You don’t even like it here.”
He didn’t bite. Nor did he lose his cool the way she did. “Because I loved Silas,” he said calmly. “And he loved this property.”
Right. The grandfather who’d never even told her who he was. “Well, I’ve got two responses to your two options. One, it’s never going to happen. Two, never ever. And three, you’re a jerk.”
A corner of his mouth quirked. “I thought you only had two responses.”
“Oh, I’ve got many, many more than two, but I’m trying to be polite and keep my opinions to myself.”
“Good to know.” His eyes never left hers, those green-gold eyes that seemed to see everything, even the stuff she didn’t want anyone to see. “Let me give you another option,” he said. “It’s the one where everyone loses their job because we lose the farm.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay, fine, we work together. But I’m not going to like it.”
“Noted.”
Great. Fantastic. Perfect. Frustrated, angry, and, dammit, a little scared that he was right, she stood. “This has been fun, but I’ve got a million things to do.” She headed to the door, then sighed and turned back, telling herself to be adult about this. “I meant to ask you yesterday. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve spent the last few nights at the Sunrise Cove Inn,” he said. “In a room between seventy-year-old newlyweds with thirty-year-old stamina, and a guy who watches true-crime shows at full volume all night long. I was going to spend some time today looking for a short-term rental.”
Well, you asked . . . She tried to keep her mouth shut, she really did, but he was going to be here for two months and she couldn’t in good conscience make him pay for a place when they could put him up. “Take one of the cabins for now. They’re small, and not anything to write home about, but better than a hotel.”
“Great, thank you,” he said, seeming genuinely relieved.
The exact opposite of what she was feeling. She opened her desk and pulled out a key. “Come on. I’ll walk you as far as the cherry blossoms. I’ve got to talk to Jeb.”
Ten minutes later, she stopped at the fork in the trail, the botanical gardens straight out in front of them. She could see Willow out there, on her knees in front of a row of baby raspberry bushes, gloves on her hands as she worked in the dirt doing . . . well, Luna had no idea what exactly, something no doubt to make her plants happy to grow for her. Willow had the greenest thumb of anyone she knew.
Luna had the blackest thumb on the entire planet. She couldn’t grow a thing, but she knew how to manage the people who could.
Willow looked up.
Luna waved.
Willow did not.
“Problem?” Jameson asked.
“Yes.” And it’s you . . . “I’ve got to go. Stay on the trail as it winds up behind the orchards, then around the hugest pine tree you’ve ever seen and then up a small hill. There are seven small cabins. Yours is the last one. Um . . .” She wrestled with her conscience some more. “You should probably know, that one’s rumored to be haunted. It’s also the closest to the woods.”
He took the key. “Worried about me?”
She was worried that her cabin wasn’t far enough from his.
He gave her a small smile, like he could read her thoughts. “I’m too tired to hear any ghosts,” he assured her. “Plus, I like the sounds of the woods. It’s been a long time since I was here.”
“With Silas.”
He nodded.
“And he raised you.”
“I was raised by my mom.” He looked away, off at the beautiful orchards, though she was pretty sure he wasn’t seeing them. “She passed away from untreated pneumonia when I was fourteen.”
“You said Silas took you in when you were fifteen. Who did you live with for that year in between?”
“Couch surfed, stuff like that,” he said vaguely. “Then one day I tried to get a job taking care of the lawns at Silas’s properties. Got caught lying about my age.” His lips curved slightly. “He gave me a job anyway, and room and board.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the implication of what he’d said, and what he hadn’t. Maybe she’d always felt like the square peg in a round hole when it came to her parents, but at least she’d never been on her own as a teenager for an entire year.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve it. Plus, you didn’t exactly have the perfect life either.”
“I always had a roof over my head and food to eat.”
“And love?” he asked. “Did you always have love? Because I did. Maybe not from my father, but certainly from my mom. And then Silas.” He tilted his head. “Or at least his version of love.”
Uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was going, she started to walk off, but she couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t wrestle her conscience into submission. “Make sure to lock your door, okay? Bears like to break in and eat raspberry tarts left out on the counter.”
“Only raspberry tarts?”
She saw the light of humor in his eyes. “You jest.” And why was that so attractive? “But one day last year, after I’d just bought a four-pack of the most amazing raspberry tarts, I had to rush back to the office to solve a problem. When I got home again, there was Winnie-the-Pooh standing at my counter inhaling the tarts.”
His brows shot up. “And you . . . what?”
“Yelled at him and waved my arms until he went out the same window he’d climbed in. But it was too late. The tarts were gone.”
He laughed softly. “Most women would be focused on the close call with a bear, but not you.”
She shrugged. “California black bears aren’t aggressive. And I really needed those tarts.”
“Courageous, as well as stubborn and overbearingly protective of those you care about,” he said, still smiling. “So, the moral of this story is to also lock your windows along with your door?”
She snorted. “No, it’s to always eat the raspberry tarts first thing. Never save the good stuff for later.”
He laughed again. And damn, he had a really good laugh. Guilt for giving him the haunted cabin swamped her enough to do an about-face. “You know what? I’ll walk you.”
They headed up the path in what she hoped wasn’t an awkward silence. “You confuse me,” she finally admitted.
“How?”
She hadn’t meant to say the “you confuse me” out loud, but she had, so she faced him. “Sometimes it seems like you’re flirting with me.”
“Because I am.”
She almost tripped over her own two feet. “So . . . you can flirt with me, but not sleep with me?”
He winced and started to say something, but she closed her eyes in mortification. “Please scratch that from the record.” She started walking again. The next time she spoke her thoughts out loud, she was going to cut off her own tongue.
When they got to the cabins, they both eyed the first six, which were clearly fairly well tended. Neat front walks. The seventh looked a bit neglected. Jameson didn’t say a word, but Luna’s guilt grew a teeny-tiny bit as she inserted the key in the door handle—only it wasn’t locked. The door swung open to reveal Shayne Green, Willow’s estranged husband, sprawled out on the couch watching TV.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“It was my day off.” Shayne sat up with a yawn, tossing the remote aside. “Sorry. I didn’t want to hang out at the fire station anymore, or go home to an empty house.”
“I understand.” And she really did. Willow had only been mad at Luna for a few hours and she missed her already. She couldn’t imagine what Shayne was going through. “Shayne, this is Jameson Hayes, part owner of Apple Ridge. And Jameson, this is Shayne, newly minted interim fire chief for Sunrise Cove.”
Shayne got up and shook Jameson’s hand, and they nodded to each other in that word-miserly way men had. Shayne’s phone beeped. He looked at the display and grimaced. “I’ve gotta get to the station.” He one-arm hugged Luna, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “Tell Willow . . .” He seemed to falter for words.
“You could come to poker night and tell her whatever you want yourself,” she suggested.
He shook his head. “I promised her some space, and I’m trying to honor that promise even if it kills me. Just tell her hi and that I miss her. But be sure to duck when you say it.”
“She’ll come around.”
He gave her a small smile, tugged playfully on a loose strand of her hair, and left. Luna turned to find Jameson watching her with an expression she couldn’t place. “What?”
“You’re a good friend.”
After what had happened with Willow regarding a promotion, or lack thereof, she wasn’t sure that was actually true. Which was probably what was causing the panic simmering at a low boil in her gut.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
“About what?”
“Whatever you just thought about to make you sad.”
“No.” Hell no. She mustered a smile. “Anyway, good luck, and don’t forget, put all the food away, always.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She headed to the door, then paused. “Purely out of morbid curiosity, if you get eaten, what happens to your half of the farm?”
He let out a low laugh. “How about I don’t get eaten?”
She rolled her eyes at the both of them and opened the door.
“Luna?”
She looked back. “Yeah?”
“For the record, I did want to sleep with you. Desperately. Still do.” And then he shut the door, leaving her standing there stunned.