They were getting married next month, and I couldn’t be happier for them. They made a good match—balanced each other out in a way I never would have expected. I could see how love and romance worked for some people, but I’d never experienced it personally.
I was glad my little sister was back, but our relationship was a work in progress. We had nine years separating us, and our personalities hadn’t always meshed. Actually, that wasn’t true. It wasmypersonality that was the problem.
I was often too severe and exacting. The term “ballbuster” had been bandied about. I didn’t care much about people pleasing, and I had no problem saying exactly what I meant. That didn’t always make for good relationships or easy connections. I wasn’t friendly, but I was trying where Candace was concerned. I hadn’t always made her feel welcome here on the farm; however, I was working hard to correct that mistake.
She was my sister, and familial loyaltywasin my wheelhouse. I would do anything for Candace—and Brady too. My siblings, my parents, and this farm were the most important things in the world to me. But I was the sort of person who didn’t leave a lot of space for anything else. I had my priorities and my responsibilities, and if you weren’t on the list, then my energy rarely extended far enough to reach you.
I had friends who’d mostly elbowed their way in as Candace’s and Brady’s spheres had grown to encompass significant others and their families. I was grateful for those relationships, too. People were patient with me. They accepted that I didn’t talk much, and when I did, I wasn’t subtle. They accepted me, full stop.
Maybe that’s what friendship really was. When you stopped trying to find a place for someone in your life and just let them take up the space they occupied.
I breathed out a plume of warm air into the chilly expanse as I fought to clear my mind. Typically, I used my run as a time to reset and center myself, to focus on the day ahead. I was distracted, though. The farm had always been the one constant in my life, but so many things were changing.
While I still worked with Mercer and Brady and Candace and my parents most days, this next season would be a difficult adjustment. The whole movie thing was a disruption, and I wanted it to be over and done with.
Yes, I’d agreed to it when my family had put the decision to a vote months ago. But that didn’t mean I had to like the interruption to my daily life, the noise, or the new people coming and going.
Speaking of new people coming my way. I squinted into the foggy November morning as a hulking form materialized. My brows pulled together in annoyance as the man smiled cheerfully and waved.
“Hello again,” he called.
It was the lurker from the other day. Whatever-his-name-was with the stamina problem. He was wearing his sunglasses again, but he’d substituted the ball cap for a toboggan. The gray knitted fabric covered his ears and all of his dark hair.
I had every intention of running right by him, but he turned and fell into step next to me on the dirt path.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked. I could feel him watching me, even with the shades over his eyes.
I kept my gaze forward, but noted that he left a respectable distance between us, which I appreciated. “Would it matter if I said yes?”
He chuckled like I’d told a funny joke. “So, we’re neighbors,” he managed, clearly struggling for breath as he both ran and spoke. “Isn’t that great? I just love small towns. Everyone is so friendly.”
That earned him some side-eye. He was either oblivious or trying to get a reaction out of me. While the majority of Kirby Falls was mighty neighborly, no one had ever accused me of it.
I made a sound that was a cross between a hum and a grunt of agreement.
The stranger continued, undaunted by my lack of participation. “I love it out here. The mountains, the quiet. We don’t have air like this in LA.” As if to demonstrate or maybe to simply remain conscious, he struggled through a large inhale. “Makes me want to grow a beard.”
My eyes slid in his direction again.Be a shame to cover up that Dudley Do-Right jawline, I thought to myself.
“I’m Ian, by the way,” he panted happily, calling to mind an eager golden retriever puppy.
“So you keep reminding me.”
I could feel the power of his grin directed toward the side of my face.
But I didn’t owe this man anything, least of all my name. No matter what he said, we weren’t neighbors. He was here temporarily, an inconvenience and a minor blip in my small-town life. Like he was trying on someone else’s shoes and attempting to run a mile in them. Although if he struggled with small-town living as much as he was struggling through this morning’s workout, he might be headed back to Hollywood sooner rather than later.
Seriously, what was this guy’s deal? He was absurdly fit. Even I, a perpetually single woman who was uninterested in dating, could appreciate the wide assortment of muscles bulging beneath his workout pants and long-sleeved pullover. His biceps bunched, and his calves strained the seams of the fabric. He had to be at least six foot three and built like Superman.
I couldn’t understand how a man with a body sculpted from hours upon hours in a fancy gym somewhere could be so bad at jogging down a dirt path.
“Do you run here every day, or are you just stalking me?” he asked suddenly.
I turned my head sharply to glare, but he was already smiling—or maybe he was still smiling. Did he ever turn that thing off?
“Not that I’m complaining,” he added hurriedly, undeterred by my obvious annoyance. “I read a romance novel that started with well-meaning stalking. Lots of obsessive pining. I was into it.”
I blinked, thinking my book club had read that one too, and I hadn’t hated it.
