The dining room leads into the kitchen, and I run my hands over the dusty marble countertop with a peninsula island. No, wait, it’s not marble. Mama drilled into me the ways to tell the real from the fake. That way, I could tell if a man truly had money or was faking it. These are quartz, which Mama called a poor man’s marble. Personally, I like quartz. Less maintenance.
But you’re not the one maintaining it, darling. That’s what the help is for.
Shaking Mama’s voice out of my head, I move across the entryway and into the living room, passing by a staircase to the second floor. I step out of the way of the movers, and boxes sit all over the living room floor. It’s a mess.
I sidestep everything when I get a look at the stone fireplace, and I tenderly touch the mantle. It needs to be cleaned, at a minimum, and it gets added to my list.
It may be the middle of summer, but I have images of lighting a fire with Christmas decorations all around. I long for December. I can see it all now, and any doubts about my decision to finally move in here disappear.
Turning, I stare out the large picture window at the sprawling farmland spanning as far as I can see. A good amount of it belongs to me, technically. I think. I’m not entirely sure how to determine property boundaries.
When I inherited the house and land, I was told about a rental agreement in place with someone named Jones, and I chose to keep the terms in place. Same rate, too. I have no idea whether it’s a steal or not, but it’s extra income for me that I squirreled away for the past five years. Not even Mama knew about it.
“This is just what I need. A fresh start far away from the noise of city life. This will be good.”
Chapter Two
Rhett
Leaning against my pickup, I wait for my best friend to drive out to bring a tow truck for Brynlee’s car. Nothing looks to be leaking since I drove her home, and I can’t get my mind off Brynlee as I wait for Carter to arrive.
When the pretty blonde with brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen leaned against her Benz in the ditch, I thought she had to be a mirage. Or a dream. Some figment of my imagination. No onethat perfect can possibly exist outside of a magazine, let alone standing right here in Copperwood.
Sure, we have pretty girls in town. And the next few over. Some are even downright beautiful, but Brynlee Carmichael is on a completely different level than the others. If she’s not already a model, she could be. Hell, I’d buy anything she advertised. Which is why it was hard to tear my eyes from her, but I didn’t want to come across as a creep while I tried to help her. But damn if I couldn’t stare at that girl all day long.
She’s a little on the skinny side for my taste, but she still has enough curves in all the right places. A sexy hourglass figure I never quite understood until I saw her wearing a dress no one else in town would even think about putting on, let alone buying and wearing. And those dimples when she smiles made me damn near fall in love right there.
“Get a grip, Dillon,” I mutter. “She’s not into men like you. But at least she didn’t recoil in disgust and assume you were a threat. Stranger danger and whatnot. Not only did she let you drive her home, she let you touch her.”
Of course, she would live in the house I’ve wanted since I was seven. Growing up, I’d always loved the Carmichael house. After they passed, I tried to buy it, but the lawyers for the estate said it was left to their granddaughter. A granddaughter none of us knew existed, and she wasn’t selling. She did, however, continue to rent out the land to the Jones Farm like Jensen and Kathleen had for decades. Which means she’s not greedy or possessive.
“There has to be a flaw somewhere. Otherwise, this world is just not fair.”
There was no boyfriend with her. I suspect no man in his right mind would let his girlfriend or wife drive out into the country alone. She didn’t wear a ring on her wedding finger, so she’s not married. A girl like her would always wear one if she had it. But there’s also no way she can be single. I’m not that lucky.
Carter pulls up in his truck and just stares with his eyebrow raised as he hops out. He gives a knowing look before saying, “So… she was pretty, wasn’t she?”
“How’d you—”
“The look on your face says it all, buddy.”
“Wait ’til you see her,” I say.
He looks around, confused. “Where is she?”
I point to her car in the ditch. “At her house. Just moved to town.”
“What house?”
“The Carmichael place.”
He leans against his truck as I make quick work of hooking the winch to her frame so he can pull it up to the road.
“I thought the granddaughter wasn’t goin’ to sell it. The lawyers mustn’t have told you that she was lookin’ to sell.”
“Sheisthe granddaughter,” I say.
“Wait,she’sthe granddaughter? She really exists?”
