“Most of it.” I keep my tone light. “I cheated a little and looked at satellite view to make sure I had the angles right.”
“That’s incredible.” His voice is closer to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You make it look like somewhere everyone who loves fall would want to go.”
I swallow hard, ignoring the growing tremor in my voice. “That’s kind of the point.”
We both laugh. The space heater kicks on again, and for a few seconds that’s the only sound whirring in the air.
He notices me rub my arms and gets up, crossing to the storage rack in the corner. “Hold on.”
He comes back with a faded sweatshirt and tosses it to me. “Put this on.”
I start to protest. “I’m fine?—”
“Tricia.”
Just my name, low and firm, comes out like an order. I take the sweatshirt.
It’s soft from wear. When I pull it over my head, warmth and his scent wrap around me like a second skin. The sleeves are too long, and I roll them up. He watches me closely, his expression unreadable.
I wish I knew what he was thinking.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
I turn back to the screen, needing shift my focus to anywhere but him. “You said you wanted to talk about the website navigation.”
He eases back into his seat. “Yeah. But before we do—can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
His hand rests on the edge of the desk, fingers tapping once. “Why’d you take this job?”
The question catches me. “Because I needed some extra cash,” I say, then shake my head. “That sounded flippant. I mean—I wanted to do something fun, something whimsical. Something that got me out of an office.”
He studies me, like he’s weighing each word. “I get that.”
“You do?”
He nods slowly. “When my grandfather passed, the land came to my dad, who signed it over to us when he and Mom retired. I figured if I worked hard enough, I could keep it alive. But heart doesn’t pay the bills.”
I close the laptop. The light fades, leaving us in the glow of a single bulb. “Do you think you’ll lose it?”
“Not if I can help it.” He exhales. “But the bank’s on edge. Chad and Karen… They’ve been trying to buy us out for years. They’ve got money tied up in the bank, and they’re pushing to call our loan early.”
“That’s awful. Why?”
“Timber rights. There’s good wood on the back acreage. Plus they think there might be minerals under the north ridge. They’d strip the whole damn place bare if they could.”
His voice breaks a little, just enough to hear the ache. “My family built this place. Every fencepost, every beam in this barn. I can’t—” He stops. “I won’t watch them tear it down. Not without putting up a fight.”
Without thinking, I reach across the table and lay my hand over his. “You won’t.”
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. Then he turns his palm up beneath mine, his fingers brushing my wrist in a slow, unconscious motion that sends heat flooding through me.
“What about you?” he asks quietly. “What’d you hope for? Before this?”
I look down at our joined hands. “A small studio. A view. Maybe a life that didn’t revolve around deadlines.”
