Jameson Hayes’s eyes flew open and he stilled, trying to figure out what woke him. The rhythmic thumping against the wall behind his head was a big clue. It was 4:00 a.m. and the people in the room next to him had to be Energizer bunnies because they’d been going at it since midnight.
Letting out a long exhale, he scrubbed his hands down his face. He’d bought earplugs, but they hadn’t been able to drown out the sound of the bed hitting the wall at the rate of three thumps per second. This damn hotel. This damn small Podunk town. This damn whole set of circumstances that had led him here in the first place. The circumstances that had a wave of grief rolling over him, so heavy he couldn’t get a grip on it. Or the fact he’d lost the man who’d been a pseudo father to him.
Silas Wittman would be annoyed by Jameson’s grief. He’d been about as cozy as a porcupine and tough as steel, but he’d treated Jameson well, teaching him the skills he’d needed to survive, along with other useful things such as compartmentalizing rather than getting derailed by things like messy emotions.
Giving up on sleep, Jameson tossed his covers aside and dressed for a run. Sure, it was only thirty degrees outside, but he’d worked out in far worse conditions. He found a designated trail that led him along the lake and started running. The view took his breath away.
Or maybe that was the windchill factor.
In either case, Lake Tahoe, aka the “lake of the sky,” was the purest color of azure blue he’d ever seen. Heart-stopping, really, as was the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the lush mountain peaks that surrounded it, some of them still dotted with snow. The sky was slowly shifting colors from black to dark purples and blues to warm reds and pinks. A slight warming of the day had the rocks on the shore letting off curling tendrils of steam rising into the air.
Jameson wasn’t a sentimental man, and as his life was mostly lived out of a suitcase, he didn’t collect . . . well, anything. But for the first time in memory, he wanted to stop and take a picture.
He didn’t. The reasons why were all sorts of complicated, the biggest being he wasn’t exactly happy to be here. He understood that Apple Ridge Farm meant a lot to the local population, and also to the tourists who found it. But as investments went, it sucked. The smart decision would’ve been for Silas to sell it eons ago. But five years ago, he’d finally located his biological granddaughter and brought her here to run the place.
It’d been a gift to her, and she’d had no idea.
Jameson had never understood why Silas hadn’t told her who he was. But then again, Silas had given Jameson so much, and he hadn’t understood that either. He’d once asked the old man why him, a perfect stranger? Silas had shrugged and said, “I know I’m a hard-ass and no one likes me. I couldn’t give a shit about that. What I give a shit about is helping the people I believe in. And I believe in you, Jameson.”
And, apparently, also in Luna Wright.
Today would be his first time back to Apple Ridge Farm in ten years. He’d been twenty-two then, and Silas had shown him the property he’d long ago inherited from his grandfather. The two of them had stood in the middle of the hundred and fifty acres with an architect and an engineer, Silas beaming with pride as he explained his plan to finally rebuild his family’s farming legacy.
And now he was gone and he’d left Jameson 50 percent.
Of course, Silas being Silas, the gift had come with a request that he knew Jameson would never refuse him. A year ago, Silas had come to Jameson with a favor. He’d said, “If something happens to me, go to the farm. Help her either get that place ready to sell or help her save it, whatever she wants, without telling her I sent you. If you tell her what you’re doing and why, she’ll not trust you either. Give her at least a month, preferably two, of your time, but don’t tell her I’ve asked this of you.”
Jameson had pushed back some, asking Silas to just tell her he’d happily come and be there for as long as she needed. Silas had refused. He didn’t want her to think that he hadn’t believed in her. He said that she’d always, always been on her own, and a lot of that was his family’s fault, and he hated that they’d failed her. “This is how I want it done,” he’d said. “And you owe me.”
Jameson had reluctantly agreed. Of course, that had been back when Jameson had thought the old man would live forever. At the memories, he stopped running to bend over, hands on his knees, sucking in air along with his grief. He’d taken a two-month leave of absence from work, so he might as well settle in and get on with it.
Which is why at 9:00 a.m. sharp, he arrived at the farm for his meeting with Apple Ridge Farm’s manager and his new partner.
The front gate was wide open. He knew they let the general public in at ten, but not being the general public, he let himself in. The place was admittedly beautiful. He could see a field of tulips, each line a different color so the entire crop looked like a glorious rainbow. Beyond that were the orchards, with the cherry blossoms in full bloom.
He was still taking it all in when he was goosed. Hands on his ass, he whipped around and came face-to-face with an emu. “No dinner first?”
The emu cocked his . . . her? . . . head to the side and just looked at him, eyes warm and curious.
“Are you the greeting committee?” he asked.
The emu’s head cocked to the other side.
“I’m going to walk past you now, if that’s okay.”
Another head tilt.
Moving slowly and carefully, Jameson walked past the massive bird and ended up in the Square, the designated meeting spot. He was waiting for Luna Wright to show up when, shockingly, the sexy, adorable, and possibly unhinged woman from the bar appeared. He hadn’t gone home with her last night, but she’d most definitely come home with him. She’d stuck in his head, even though she wore complicated like other women wore perfume.
And he was not a fan of complicated.
At the sight of him, she stopped short. “You.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you stalking me or something?”
He had to laugh. She had a way of doing that, he’d give her that much. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
She craned her neck to make sure no one was around, and even though there wasn’t, she still lowered her voice. “It’s pretty rude to show up at someone’s place of work after you refused to sleep with them.”
“I didn’t refuse to sl—”
She lifted a finger, signaling she didn’t want to hear it. “We’re not even open yet, so I’m not sure how you got in, but you have to go. I’ve got a meeting, though he’s a few minutes late.” She pulled out her phone and sent a text.
Two seconds later, Jameson’s phone pinged an incoming text and he stilled. Oh shit . . .
At the same time, her head whipped up, her expression dialed to shock. “What was that? Was that a text? Tell me that wasn’t a text.”
He looked at his phone. “It’s from the person I’m meeting, farm manager Luna Wright.”
“Jameson Hayes?” she whispered.
“In the flesh.”
“Oh crap.” She put a hand to her forehead, like this was the very worst possible thing that could happen to her. “This is bad. Very, very bad.”
At the very least. But his never-let-them-see-you-sweat mantra was deeply ingrained. “How about we start completely over, okay?”
“Fine.” She gave him a tight smile. “Hello to the person who didn’t want to sleep with me.”
He let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “That’s what you’re upset about?”
She crossed her arms. “Of course not.”
He was pretty sure that was sarcasm.
“Nepotism and sweet charm?” she asked, repeating what he’d said in the tavern about his appointment.
He smiled. “Not meeting your budget?”
She tossed up her hands. “How is this even happening? What was Silas thinking, surprising us with all this? And omigod, please tell me we aren’t kissing cousins or something.”
“We’re not related.”
She looked relieved, and as much as he’d loved Silas, he’d been a hard man who never gave in to a weakness, especially emotion. But what he’d done to Luna, not telling her who he was, was wrong. “You have no other living relatives,” he said quietly. “You’re the last one.”
He saw the flash of disappointment hit her, and then a longer beat of devastation. Last night she’d said she’d been called “too much” and “not enough,” but in the little time he’d spent with her, he’d found her to be smart, strong inside and out, and funny. She seemed to be able to find joy in the simplest of things, and she was quick with a smile.
More than he could ever hope to be.
“There’s really no one else in the family?” she asked quietly.
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m sorry.”
She let out a whoosh of air and sat on the curb, like her knees were no longer going to keep her upright.
He eyed the dirty walkway and grimaced but sat too. And yep, right on cue, some of the icy dew of the morning soaked into the seat of his pants.
She slid him a slightly amused look. “That looks like yet another really expensive suit and you just sat on a dirty walkway.”
“It’s fine.”
She snorted, then dropped her head to her knees.
Ah, hell. Say something, genius. Problem was he’d never been good at this. “Do you know how Silas got this land?” He was pretty sure she didn’t, so when she said nothing, he went on. “He inherited it from his grandfather. By that time the farm was no longer operating, but Silas kept it because it was where he’d spent summers as a kid. At that point, his life was in LA, so the land sat. He’d fallen in love and didn’t want to disrupt Rose’s life by moving her here.”
Luna lifted her head. “Rose?” she whispered, looking heartbreakingly desperate for more information about her family.
Aching for her, he nodded. “Your grandmother—he married her. There’s not a happy ending though,” he warned her. “Silas became a successful businessman, which took him away from Rose for long periods of time. She eventually left him, taking their young daughter, Cami—your birth mother—with her. Years later, understanding what he’d lost, Silas tried to make amends, but it was too late. Rose had died of cancer, and Cami had no interest in him. By then she’d lost herself in opioids, and eventually she overdosed. But when he learned she’d had a kid, he went in search of her.”
Luna had stilled. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing. “You were working at a food co-op, managing the employees. In college, you’d studied business and, to Silas’s shock and delight, agriculture.”
She didn’t move or say anything.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m always okay.” She paused. “I know I was born in LA. Why did Cami give me up?”
He did his best to hide his sympathy because he knew he wouldn’t want any, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t either. “She was young and single. And not able to care for a baby. She never told Silas, or he’d have stepped in to take you.”
“Conjecture,” she said, and gave a tight smile. “I also took some law classes. So instead of coming clean to me like a normal human, he lied to get me here, pretended to be just my boss, and then left me this place.”
“Well, half of it anyway.” He smiled.
She did not. “Right. And you got the other half. The lawyer said I’m to keep on being general manager and you’re taking over the finances and accounting from Silas. He also said you’ll be here for two months, and then after that, you’ll handle your end from LA.”
He nodded.
She nodded too, then shook her head. “This is crazy. How is this supposed to work? We’re so different.”
“If we stay calm and collected, it’ll be fine.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but calm and collected isn’t really my go-to when faced with an impending meltdown.”
He was getting that. “Luna.”
She looked at him with sky-blue, suspicious eyes. “You sound very serious. There’s more.”
“About last night . . .”
“Oh great,” she muttered, forehead to her knees again. “You want to tell me I kiss bad. Well, excuse me for being out of practice—”
“Luna. Look at me.”
“You should know, even in the throes of a breakdown, I don’t take orders well.”
“Fine. Fair.” He drew a breath. “Will you please look at me?”
She straightened up again and even gave a small smile. “You said the word ‘please’ through your teeth. Not used to using the word, I take it.”
How did she so easily derail his every thought? “I’m trying to tell you something.”
“Oh, right.” She waved a hand. “Sorry. Carry on.”
She somehow managed to turn him upside down and inside out, and not in a good way. Or at least he was pretty sure not in a good way. “First, the kiss. It wasn’t . . . bad.”
She snorted. “Be still my beating heart.”
He wasn’t going to be baited into a discussion of their kiss—which, for the record, had been holy-shit amazing. “I’m just saying that I’m sorry it happened, and I hope it won’t change anything.”
“Wow.” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure me being a bad kisser is less insulting than you being sorry it happened.”
He decided it’d be dangerous to tell her just how not a bad kisser she was. “We both have jobs to do. In fact, we need to get started.”
“You’re right. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can be done.”
“Exactly. Can you show me the offices? I’d like to get a look at the books.” Mostly because the last thing he needed was to spend more time with her, because even without the alcohol, there was chemistry. Maybe even more now that she was dressed simply in jeans with a hole in one knee and the opposite thigh, a sweatshirt with Apple Ridge’s logo above her breast, battered boots, and her long hair piled on top of her head. She’d been beautiful dressed up, showing off those long legs that he’d most definitely dreamed about, but the way she looked now was even more attractive to him. A fact he planned to ignore.
Good luck to him.
“We should start off with a tour of the whole property,” she said.
Normally when Jameson showed up on a job, he was in a position of power and knew he had the authority to do whatever had to be done. But with Luna, he felt like he had two left feet and zero power. “Sure,” he said, trying to bring things back to his comfort level. “Let’s make it a tour of the books.”
She seemed surprised. “You don’t want to see the rest of the farm first? The books are boring. The real heart of this place is the people who run it, along with the botanical gardens and orchards, the cute shops and café, the rescue animals . . . All of that is why people come, and continue to make return visits.”
Actually, Jameson didn’t need to see a thing. Appearances didn’t matter. Just because something looked good on the outside didn’t mean it wasn’t a complete disaster behind closed doors. Not that he could say that to Miss Defensive. “I already met an emu, who might or might not have sexually harassed me.”
“Omigod, I’m so sorry. That’s Estelle. She was rescued from a traveling carnival, where she was kept on a short leash and locked up in a cage. She’s been thriving here, and loves people so much. She must’ve really liked you. I can introduce you to the other rescue animals too. I’ll even protect your virtue, I promise.”
He hoped the fact that she was teasing him meant she wasn’t going to be mad at him for the whole two months. “I’ve been here before, when your grandfather was making plans to restore this place.”
She stilled again, amusement gone, mistrust back. “So you knew him well then?”
There was something in her eyes. Envy? Yeah, and not for the first time, he cursed Silas for not doing this himself. If he’d been honest with her when he’d first found her five years ago, everything would’ve been easier. But Silas hadn’t listened to anyone, not even Jameson, which meant he now got to deal with the very natural emotions Luna felt for her departed grandfather.
Number one being anger, which was clear on her face and in every line of her admittedly beautiful body. “Yes. You could say I knew him well.”
“What else would you say about him?”
He didn’t want to, but damn, he liked her. “This might go faster if you just ask me what you want to know.”
“And you’ll answer honestly?” she asked, apparently every bit the cynic as her grandfather had been.
“Always.”
“Okay . . .” She nodded. “Was he always closed-minded, tightfisted, anal-retentive?”
Jameson laughed. “Most definitely.”
She looked at him for another beat, then nodded, relaxing slightly. Maybe she’d expected him to take offense, but he knew exactly who Silas had been. And who he hadn’t.
“And you worked for him,” she said.
“Up until a few years ago, yes.”
“How long were you with him?” she asked.
“Since the day he took me in off the streets when I was fifteen.”
She blinked. “He raised you?”
“Well, I was mostly raised by then, but he taught me a lot. Also there’s the other truth. He didn’t find me, I found him. I tried to get a job and lied about my age. He caught me, of course. Instead of kicking me out, he took me in. He was . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “Family.”
She inhaled a deep breath, then let it out and met his gaze. “I’m sorry for your loss, Jameson.”
Not a single person had said that to him about Silas’s passing, and he was startled by how much it meant. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “How about you? How was your adoptive family?”
She shrugged. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. I mean, fine. It was fine—” Her phone went off and she reached for it even though she’d ignored earlier texts.
So she liked to change the subject once it turned to her. Something else he understood.
“Dammit,” she said.
“What?”
She held up a finger and made a call. “Shep? Hogwarts is over in the orchards eating Willow’s tulips again. She said she’s having bacon for lunch if you don’t hurry.” She disconnected and slipped the phone away.
“Hogwarts?” Jameson asked. “As in the Harry Potter Hogwarts?”
“Okay, points for knowing that,” she said, looking reluctantly impressed.
“I didn’t just appear as a thirty-two-year-old. I had a childhood.”
She laughed. An infectious, musical sound. “Good to know. Hogwarts is one of our rescue pigs. She escaped her pen when one of the farmhands was trying to put suntan lotion on her ears.”
He paused. “I’m sure I’m going to be sorry I asked, but . . . what?”
“We have to sunscreen the pigs’ ears so they don’t get sunburned.”
“Huh,” he said. “I guess it’s better than becoming bacon. How do you catch a pig?”
“Pigs have great concentration. Once they’ve set a goal, they’ll devote all their energy to it—like escaping. Luckily, they never suspect trickery, so they’re easy to fool. Shep will set a food trap. Something sweet, so Hogwarts won’t be able to resist.”
“I wouldn’t either.”
“Good to know.” She hesitated. “So how do you want to do this? Would you like to shadow me today and see how we operate?”
“Really, the books are all I need.”
She nodded, stood up, brushed her hands across her backside, then shoved her hands into her pockets. “Right. Wouldn’t want to combine business and pleasure.”
Damn. He knew she’d taken that statement personally and he couldn’t blame her. He was shit at relationships, even the simple ones, and he felt pretty certain that nothing with Luna Wright would be simple. Before he could speak, she turned to face the Square, which was made of pretty pavers, outlined by a foot-high wooden picket fence and anchored by four poles from which fairy lights were strung. At one corner was the Bright Spot café. Tables and chairs sat out front, the small dining area delineated by large clay pots filled with small but thriving pine trees.
Inside the closest pot, at the base of the tree, sat a goose. A small umbrella had been placed over its head.
“That’s Glenna the Goose,” Luna said. “She lives with the chickens. Well, except for Hen Solo, who wakes up every day and chooses evil. She lives with Tomas the Turkey because he keeps her calm.”
“No rooster?”
“One, and Wyatt Chirp is a shy cutie-pie who is terrified of Hen Solo. You won’t see much of him. Anyway, Glenna decided to lay her eggs in the planter. So we set her up with the umbrella and food and water so she doesn’t have to leave her nest before her babies hatch. Uh-oh.”
“What?” he asked, but she was already on the move toward one of the large aspen trees just outside the Square, the heavy branches and full foliage providing shade to the café’s tables and benches.
“Give me a boost,” she said at the base of the tree, looking up.
He followed her gaze to a branch about eight feet above the ground, upon which sat a small cat.
“Mew.”
“I’ve got you, Fred,” she called up, and then looked back to Jameson. “He’s fourteen, but he does this thing where he climbs anything and everything, then gets scared to climb down. Link your fingers together and lift me as far as you can. I’ll do the rest.”
He eyed the branch over their heads. “If you’ve got a ladder, I could get him—”
“I don’t need a ladder.”
Okay, then. Crouching, he laced his fingers together. Luna put a hand on his shoulder and a boot into his hands. When he rose, she grabbed onto the branch just below Fred and pulled herself up.
Jameson’s eyes skimmed over Luna’s boots, following the line of her legs—she was taller than he’d thought—and skated over the curves of her hips. Those curves were tempting, and his short-term goal shifted from the farm’s books to trying to forget the delicious taste of her from the night before. Her shirt rose up, teasing him with a glimpse of midriff as he watched her gracefully climb up to get to Fred, who immediately leaped into her outstretched arms and cuddled into the crook of her neck.
Lucky cat.
Jameson assisted them down. Fred squirmed to be free and Luna let him go. “Just like all the men in my life,” she said.
Her hair was escaping its bun, a few strands tucked behind her ears, tamed for the moment though a tendril threatened to fall across her cheekbone. He wasn’t sure what this attraction to her was about, but he had to get a hold of himself. Needing a distraction, he looked around, his gaze catching on the café. The place’s charming entrance had been built to look like a train car. The “train” windows were clear, and one of them was filled with a handful of people, faces glued to the glass.
“It’s an actual train car from the sixties,” Luna said. “It was deserted on the very back of the property, long ago abandoned. We added it to the café when it was expanded a few years ago. People love it.”
Apparently she wasn’t going to explain the faces staring at them. He took another look and they all ducked down in unison, out of sight. “Who are they?”
Luna sighed. “My crew. They’re eavesdropping, which is . . .” She cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled, “Rude!”
One of them poked his head back up, saw they were still looking, and tried to duck down again.
“Chef!” she yelled. “I can still see you and your big fat head!”
The man rose, grimaced, and then came outside. “Hi, I’m Chef. I run the café. I’m also Luna’s ex. And you are?”
“Jameson Hayes,” Luna said for him.
“One of the new owners,” Jameson added.
Chef’s head whipped to Luna.
“Right,” she said. “I was just getting to that. We were in the middle of a quick business meeting. Tell the snoopers that everything’s okay so they can stop freaking out and following us around.”
Chef hesitated. “So . . . everything’s really okay?”
“Yes,” Luna said in a tone that was both boss and caring friend.
Jameson had never had to straddle such a line, and it was not only effective but almost impressive.
“Hey,” another man called from inside the café, this one with an unmistakable southern accent. “Can you all talk louder? We can’t hear you.”
“That’s Milo,” Luna said. “He’s a writer. He does our newsletter and social media. He also wrote a series of pieces about the farm that got picked up by some news outlets last year, and visitor numbers surged. He’s helping Chef write a cookbook, and we’re all very excited about it.”
“He’s also my significant other,” Chef said.
“Hell yeah I am,” Milo called out.
“Oh!” Chef said to Luna. “I met the perfect man for you. I mean, unless this man’s that man . . . ?” He looked Jameson over, head to toe and back again. “I mean, I certainly wouldn’t blame you.”
“No,” Luna said quickly.
Jameson had opened his mouth to say the same thing, but when she beat him to the punch, he hesitated at the odd flicker of an emotion that felt shockingly like disappointment.
“Okay then,” Chef said. “Your perfect date’s name is Evan, and he’s going to call you for dinner this week. Please don’t show up looking like that. Maybe some heels, show a little leg. He’s a high-powered and very successful attorney.”
“I’m not dating right now,” Luna said without looking at Jameson. “And even if I was, I won’t date a suit.”
“Okay, Luna Always Right Wright.” Chef looked down at Fred, who was rubbing against his legs, and picked him up. While he was preoccupied loving up on the cat, Jameson shifted in closer to Luna and whispered, “Last night you were all about the suit.”