Effect: Red dust rose in clouds over the entrance to his property.
Cause: Someone was coming up the drive.
Jake Sutton straightened from beneath the hood of the farm truck that was as old as he was and pulled off his gloves, stuffing the dusty leather into his back pocket.
He knocked back his Stetson with one knuckle as he watched the compact hybrid rattle over the rutted red dirt drive. Bright October sunlight glared off the windshield. A car like that was not made for the farm track.
Who in the world was that?
He'd lived in Redbud Trails his whole life, minus the ten years he'd spent at university. Been back for the last five. There were five hundred eighty-three families in Redbud Trails, and he didn't know a single one with a hybrid car. It wasn't practical on the bumpy farm roads around here.
The drive ran alongside the house and gave easy access to both the front and back doors. The red car stopped in the shade of the two-story farmhouse toward the back—the driver must have seen Jake by the barn. He walked over to say hello, because his mom had preached good manners throughout his entire childhood. The engine shut off.
When the driver stepped out, Jake felt like he'd had his breath knocked out of him.
Stevie Flower.
Her raven black hair was cut in a trendy chin-length style and her eyes—eyes he knew to be a shade of near-transparent blue—were hidden behind sunglasses that he supposed were stylish but were so big they dwarfed her elfin features.
The probability of a visit from Stevie Flower was so close to zero it was immeasurable.
And yet here she was.
Shouldn't she be in Nashville, recording a new album or planning a tour or something?
"Hey," he said when the silence—and her stare—unnerved him.
"Hi, Jake."
She remembered his name?
Her nose wrinkled, and one corner of her mouth ticked slightly upward. "It hasn't been that long since high school."
Not long enough.
Had he spoken his first thought aloud? He couldn't control the shock that was tying up his tongue and causing the back of his neck to itch. At least the morning breeze cut beneath the brim of his Stetson and cooled him off a bit.
Stevie was a country music artist, one of the hottest new voices getting airtime, though he knew she'd gone to Nashville over a decade ago to try and make a career for herself.
He took in her trendy clothes, those stylish sunglasses. The car. Her presence still didn't compute. "How'd you find me out here?"
He'd bought this place five years ago, but when he'd been a kid, his family had lived in town.
Her face turned slightly to one side ,and the muscles in her cheek bunched and released. He was no good at reading facial expressions. Was she embarrassed? Chagrined about what she was about to say? "I might've done a little bit of Facebook stalking."
He felt his mouth unhinge. Each inhale and exhale puffed through his open lips. But he couldn't manage to close it. Stevie had been looking him up? Why?
"I didn't know you'd be here today though," she said.
"Fall break." The long weekend away from his job as a physics professor was supposed to be relaxing. But while his colleagues would be working on making the next big breakthrough in their fields, he would be catching up on the farm work that had been piling up over these past weeks.
More awkward silence, this time so quiet that he could hear the far off leaves of the peach orchard rattling in the breeze. Then Stevie's lips twisted, and her chin lifted as she turned her face toward the barn.
He pushed away the starstruck thoughts and really looked at the woman.
And he finally registered the fine lines around her mouth and the tense set of her shoulders. She hadn't taken off her sunglasses—was she hiding behind them?
He took a step toward her. "Are you in trouble?"
For one vain moment, Stevie Flower was glad she'd stopped at a gas station in Weatherford and re-applied her makeup.
She was used to admiration from her fans and hangers-on, but the Jake she'd known back in high school hadn't been one to pander. It made his admiration and embarrassment humbling.
Although...the man in front of her bore little resemblance to the Jake she remembered.
He'd filled out the lanky frame he'd had in school. He was still tall, probably six-six in his boots, but his shoulders were broad and sturdy. He wore stylish, black-rimmed glasses beneath his Stetson. Back then, he'd always had his nose stuck in an advanced textbook.
She'd come expecting a scientist. She'd gotten a cowboy.
She was distracted by the way his chest filled out his T-shirt beneath the flannel shirt he wore unbuttoned. The T-shirt bore a scientific notation of some kind instead of a logo. dT/dt = -k(T-Ts). Beneath the equation was simply the word "cool."
After the stillness of being in the car for the last ten hours, the brisk breeze made her eyes sting with tears. It smelled fresh and earthy, not like the stale scents of fast food that clung to her.
The barn behind him had been decorated to look like a spooky face with two huge yellow eyes tacked to the wall above the wide-open door and fangs hanging down from the crossbeam just above the threshold. In the distance, gold and orange leaves on the trees announced that fall was here.
She'd felt a strange, empty aching in her chest the moment she'd turned off the highway and onto the gravel road that ran in front of Jake's property. Maybe it was a miracle she could feel anything at all.
Her thoughts swirled an allegro, jumping from one thing to the next. If she allowed too much of a pause, they would start to drift to...
Grief slashed inside, throwing her internal refrain into discord, and she grabbed onto the last thing he'd asked her. Are you in trouble?
He was patient, still waiting for her to collect herself, although her long pause bordered on rudeness.
"I need a place to stay for a couple of days," she said.
His brows rose slightly, the only visible reaction he gave. "All right. I've got a spare bedroom."
Relief sang through her, making her eyes sting again. She breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to stem the tide. Her smile felt wobbly when it came. "This is crazy."
Maybe she was crazy, to have come here like this. But the hope that Jake would be able to help her remained lodged just beneath the knot in her throat.
He took a step nearer, his boot crunching in the gravel drive. "I don't know about crazy, but I'm always willing to help out a friend in need."
Friend. How long had it been since she'd had a real one? She had hangers-on and fans and her business manager, Zack, but she'd been burned in Nashville enough times—including once by her supposed best friend—that she kept important things close to the vest. In her pocket, her phone dinged a new text message.
Zack again. She owed her manager a call, but not now.
Before her shifting emotions could circle back to tears, she ducked her head into the still-open drivers' side door and reached across the console for her duffel bag. She hadn't really taken time to pack last night. She'd thrown a few things into the duffel and gotten in her car.
Then she'd driven all night.
She'd started without a real destination in mind, just known she had to get out. Out of her sterile apartment. Out of Nashville.
Maybe even out of the music industry.
About two hours into her westward journey, she'd remembered Jake. Remembered what he'd gone through back in high school. And that kernel of hope had taken root in her chest.
"Do you mind if I go in and freshen up a little? I drove all night."
His eyebrows twitched again. He was pretty good at cloaking his expressions, but not as good as the folks she was used to. "Sure. Bedroom's on the second floor, third door on the right. Bathroom's right next to it." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I've got a load of pumpkins to attend to, but I'll be in at lunchtime."
Pumpkins?
She closed the car door and turned toward the house. It was a two-story farmhouse, clean and neat, just like the barnyard. The house faced the road, even though it was a ways down the drive. If she had to guess, that meant this long porch and back door must lead into the kitchen.
She went up the steps and through the door, her energy flagging. Maybe she would lie down for a bit.
Maybe she was finally tired enough to be able to sleep without thinking about...
It was cool and dim in the kitchen, light streaming in from a window above the sink. She pushed her sunglasses back on her head, thankful Jake was still outside and wouldn't see her red-streaked eyes. The floor creaked underfoot, a sound she equated with her childhood and the farmhouse her parents had owned. Smells of floury biscuits and coffee had her stomach rumbling. She hadn't stopped since the middle of the night.
Through a large arch, she could see a dining area off to one side and a hallway with a set of stairs running parallel to it. A TV played from somewhere further inside.
It didn't look like a bachelor's place. There were kitchen towels—matching ones—folded neatly on the counter. There was no detritus from the breakfast meal on the nook table. The dishwasher hummed and swished beneath the counter. A set of decorative pumpkins rested along one counter.
Sudden unease rippled through her. She'd snooped online but Jake's relationship status had read "single." She hadn't thought to look at his left hand—was he married?
And then her stomach pinched as she took in the childish artwork hanging on the refrigerator.
Movement from the hall brought her head around, and blood rushed to her temples, sending pulsing pain through her skull.
A little sprite in jeans and pink cowgirl boots stood in the archway, a small, white Stetson clutched against her belly.
"Who're you?" the girl asked.
Stevie Flower.
Stevie was in his house.
Jake returned to the farm truck parked next to the barn and the one-thousand eight hundred thirty-three pumpkins he needed to bring up from the back field.
Forget being starstruck. He'd seen the way her lips had trembled. Her attention had spun every which way. It had taken her way too long to get into the conversation he'd started.
She hadn't admitted outright to being in trouble, but something was wrong. And she'd come to him.
He didn't get it. They hadn't spoken since that day in high school. Memories of those fateful few minutes were branded in his brain, a warning he'd heeded every time he'd been tempted to ask a woman out.
He gripped the cap on the oil tank and tightened it. At least he'd finished changing the old truck's oil before she got here. Wouldn't have the brain power for even that job now.
He was two years her junior. During his sophomore year, he'd already been taking Physics 201 through concurrent enrollment at the university in Weatherford. His high school physics teacher had asked him to tutor her.
He'd had a disproportionately large crush on her. In his defense, so had every other guy at their high school. Who wouldn't? She'd been beautiful even back then, and musical. She'd played the lead in the school play in both her junior and senior years. But when he'd been one-on-one with her, studying in the library, she'd been sweeter than he could have imagined.
And then he'd let himself do something stupid.
Was allowing her to stay with him another stupid mistake? He was comfortable enough with himself to admit he didn't always understand others' social cues. More accurately—he spent more time focusing on his work than worrying about what the people around him were feeling.
But right about now, he wished he'd bothered for the past, oh, twenty-eight years.
He let the hood slam closed.
From his pocket, his phone rang. Mom. It had only been a few days since he'd talked to her last.
He accepted the call. "Morning." He leaned one hip against the truck's fender.
"I just got off the phone with Tina Davidson. Do you know what she just saw?"
His neighbor was one of the biggest gossips in town. It could be anything. Luckily, his mom didn't seem to expect an answer.
"She saw Stevie Flower pull into your drive. Stevie Flower."
It wasn't funny how fast the gossip mill worked in Redbud Trails. Tina must've passed by his driveway no more than five minutes ago. Then she'd jumped right on the phone with his mom.
"We were friends back in high school." It was a half-truth.
"I don't care about high school. That girl is trouble. She's constantly in the tabloids about this scandal or that."
He bit back a harsh retort. His mother shouldn't be reading those rags. Nothing in them was true.
"Just two weeks ago, she went back into rehab!"
He snorted.
"Did she come straight from rehab to you? Is that the kind of influence you want around my granddaughter?"
Lily. He hadn't spared one thought for the impressionable five-year-old.
The farm was far enough out of Redbud Trails proper that he hadn't thought people from town would be gossiping about Stevie's presence, especially if she was only in town for a few days. But he also hadn't counted on Tina stirring things up so fast. And Lily didn't need any more complications in her life.
"I'll call you later, Mom." He hung up, knowing he'd have to listen to her gripe about his poor manners the next time they spoke.
He whirled for the house, realizing he hadn't warned Stevie about his niece. He'd been so caught up in the puzzle that was the woman that he hadn't spared Lily a thought.
He hit the back porch at a run and shoved through the door.
There was Stevie standing in the center of the kitchen with her duffel at her feet. Lily stood in the archway beyond, dressed and ready to go, like she'd been about to join him for his pumpkin wrangling.
"Stevie, I forgot to tell you about Lily."
"I didn't do anything," Lily chimed, her eyes wide.
That kind of statement was usually preceded by Lily doing something to get into trouble, but he didn't see anything amiss, only the two females standing there.
Stevie's back was to him, and as she slowly turned to look at him, her chin trembled. He saw the tears standing in her eyes and clumping her eyelashes.
"Your daughter?" Stevie whispered.
"My niece."
Lily came to his side silently, giving Stevie a wide berth. She reached for his hand and he gave it to her, allowing her to cling. They neither one knew what was going on, but Lily was astute enough to understand that something was wrong.
"Do you—?" he started
"I need to—" Stevie said, interrupting his lame attempt at comfort.
She scooped her bag off the floor and rushed into the hall toward the stairs, but not before he saw the tears spilling down her cheeks.
He stood there, struck dumb, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.
Lily tugged on his hand. "Uncle Jake, what's wrong with her?"
"I don't know, Lilybean." He looked down and tweaked her nose with his opposite hand.
"Are we gonna help her?"
His chest expanded with pride. Lily was a born nurturer. Hated to see any person or animal hurting. And seeing her childlike compassion warmed him, but it was also his job to protect her.
"We're gonna try, Bean."
There was also a part of him that felt woefully unequipped to deal with whatever was going on with Stevie. He and Lily had a deal. She always told him what she was feeling. That way, he didn't have to try to figure it out—and fail.
Stevie probably wouldn't accept those terms.
Was his mom right? Had he let trouble walk through the back door?
Not to mention the massive amount of work he'd planned to accomplish over the next few days. It wasn't only Lily that was depending on him. Courtney was too, whether she'd admit it or not.
Just like in his studies, the most difficult problems often had no answers. Was Stevie going to be one of those?
Stevie pressed a cool washcloth against her eyes, but it didn't stop the burning. Nor did it help the flames in her heart.
This was a mistake. It had to be.
Seeing Jake's niece had shaken her more than she could have anticipated. For a moment, in the shadowed hallway, she'd seen Sienna. When Lily had come further into the kitchen and the light had fallen across her face, Stevie saw she was very different from Sienna, younger—maybe five years old—and light where Sienna had been dark.
But the damage had been done. She'd been shaken and then made a fool of herself trying to get out of the room.
Her phone rattled from the counter where she'd set it. She glanced at the display. Zack again. She powered down the phone.
A board creaked in the hallway outside. Then a soft knock sounded on the door.
"Stevie?" Jake asked.
Noodles. She was going to have to face him.
She pressed the towel harder against her eyes, trying to breathe in deeply. It didn't help.
She lowered the towel and looked up into the mirror, gripping the cool counter with one hand. For a moment, she focused on the colorful pink and purple shower curtain reflected behind her. Then she forced her gaze to her face.
The tip of her nose was bright red, and her eyes were bloodshot, huge bags hanging under them. So much for the attraction she'd registered in Jake's face when she'd first arrived.
It shouldn't matter, but some latent sense of pride made it.
She moved to the door and opened it to find him standing out in the hall, hands in his pockets.
"Are you okay?" No doubt he was regretting letting her into his house.
She shook her head. She would never be okay again.
But he deserved some explanation, if she could get it out.
"I came here because..." Her voice emerged in a hoarse whisper, and she had to swallow back the knot in her throat. "In high school..."
Remembering what he'd lost back then brought fresh tears, and she took in a wavering breath. He was much closer than he'd been outside, and now when he stepped forward, he was right there. He reached out and clasped her elbow. She could feel warmth emanating from his touch, but somehow it didn't warm her.
"I lost someone," she forced out. "And I came because—"
Finally, the tears she'd been holding back came like a storm, and she drew away from his touch to put both hands over her face.
He moved even closer—inappropriately close, but she didn't push him away. His hand came to rest on her back. Her shoulder nudged into his side. As an embrace went, it was awkward at best, but it was closer than anyone had been in months.
"And you knew I'd understand," he murmured, close to her ear.
He didn't sound angry.
"I know you c-can't fix it," she choked out. No one could. Sienna was gone, and it was her fault. Grief spiraled.
He held her for a long time. He was perfectly still, not rubbing her back or making annoying platitudes. Just breathing and holding her.
At last, she was able to wipe her eyes. As she straightened, his hand fell away from her back, and he stepped away.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've got work that has to be done today. I'll have some time to talk after supper..."
She nodded. "I might try to sleep."
His eyes softened. "If you wake up and want to come out later, you're welcome."
She nodded again, thankful that he really did seem to understand what she needed. He wasn't pushing.
He was just there.