But I just didn’t see why all this mattered. I didn’t have Mac’s curiosity or wonder over the whole thing. Nor did I have Candace’s optimistic certainty that a film set at our orchard would mean more tourists and increased sales in the coming months and years. My brother, Brady, was chomping at the bit to watch them film and meet the actors. I did not share his enthusiasm. I hadn’t even asked Candace who was starring in the movie. I’d met the writer/director months ago when she’d set up a meeting to propose this whole ridiculous thing, but that was it.
I mostly felt out of sorts at how disordered everything was. I hated knowing there were places we couldn’t tread on our own property. I’d never been very good at sharing. This was just one more example.
I kept my opinions to myself, however. There was no point in raining on anyone’s parade or dimming local excitement. This was all temporary, and that was the comfort I would cling to.
Ian and I ran again on Monday morning. We made it three miles that day, and I’d rewarded him by answering his questions about some of my favorite restaurants in town. There was no way I was telling him about Mattie B’s—our local watering hole. He and the rest of the production crew could keep visiting the leafer bar on Main Street called Magnolia. But I did clue him in to Apollo’s and the best pizza in the county.
“Does your name start with a C?” he’d asked after we’d finished up, sweat still glistening on his muscular neck.
I’d blinked and cleared my throat, tugging my foot up into a standing quad stretch. “Nope, not a C.”
“What about an L? Are you a Laura?”
I’d straightened and shook my head, amusement tugging at the corners of my lips. “Sorry, not a Laura. That’s enough guesses for today.”
His grin had said he didn’t mind too much.
My amusement had faded by degrees. It had been over a week of this. Ian was still friendly and unfazed by my standoffishness. He listened when I offered advice about his form and technique. Occasionally, he asked questions, but he didn’t press. I could feel his charm hovering beneath the surface, waiting to pounce, determined to win me over. But he kept it in check.
I hated that, for the most part, I was wondering why he was buttering me up, why he was trying so hard. Surely there were easier, friendlier marks out there. My theories ranged from him trying to get access to more land than what the film had negotiated to thinking I would be an easy lay for the duration of his time here.
I’d mostly crossed that last one off the list. The guy was a looker—even with his ever-present sunglasses and unrelenting smile. He could go down to Magnolia any night of the week and pick up a willing bedmate.
I, on the other hand, was more trouble than I was worth. Plus, I was pretty sure he was much younger than me. His hot body and youthful, action-hero profile suggested someone in their early to mid-twenties. I was thirty-six. Not dead yet, but not really someone he might go for.
My short brown hair was liberally shot through with gray, something I’d made my peace with a decade ago. And while I was in good shape, strong and healthy, my body was lean with few curves to speak of. I wasn’t the sort of woman men went out of their way to land. I was too honest, too rough around the edges. This guy would get his feelings hurt without me even trying.
Maybe it was shitty to make so many assumptions about someone I barely knew. Something in my gut told me that this man was not trying to get into my pants.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t suspicious. He definitely had to wantsomethingto keep coming out here in the cold, at the ass crack of dawn, while I tortured him with cardio and refused to tell him my name.
I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe, all of my wonderings wouldn’t matter in the end. Because a big part of me thoughtall of this would be over just as suddenly as it had started. People weren’t typically very dependable. Perhaps Ian would simply stop showing up. Maybe the mornings would get too cold and his bed a bit too warm. It wasn’t uncommon for folks to slack off on their goals. There was every chance that this man would turn out to be exactly what I thought he was ... a disappointment waiting to happen.
I could admit, at least to myself, that it might be nice to be proven wrong for once.
three
JOAN
On Tuesday morning, I skipped my solo run in order to drop off some donations to the local food bank. I planned on stopping by the farmhouse afterward and having breakfast with my parents and whoever else was hanging around the kitchen—usually my little brother acting malnourished and begging for scraps.
I’d just returned to the farm when a sound had me freezing with my body halfway out of the cab of the orchard’s small box truck.
It was nearly 9:00 a.m., and the autumn sunshine had burned away the morning dew. It was unseasonably warm, and the projected high for the day would likely see me in short sleeves by lunchtime.
No matter the season, when the weather was mild, it wasn’t unusual to hear my family on the screened porch at the back of the house. My mother spent a lot of time out there reading and sewing, and I knew that Candace liked to join her for tea in the cozy space.
So it wasn’t the sound of their familiar laughter drifting through the mountain air that stopped me in my tracks; it was the stranger in their midst.
Before I’d even rounded the corner of the house, I could hear Ian’s voice, bright with amusement as my family joined in.
What was that guy doing here? Was this part of his plan—to worm his way in? Nowhere in that thick stack of contract papers had it said that we’d be interacting with any of the production crew. That was what the liaison was for. What was Ian’s angle, and why was I so irritated that he’d gone behind my back to seek out my family?
In my frustration, I opened the ancient screened door harder than I should have. The hinges snapped in protest, and every head in the room turned to look at my sudden appearance.
“Joan!” my mom called in happy surprise. “Come meet Dorian Masters.”
My eyes found my mother. Amy Judd was bright-eyed on the wicker love seat next to my sister, Candace. When the two were together, all their similarities stood out like a genetics billboard, loudly proclaiming them mother and daughter. I looked more like my dad, and Brady was a pretty even mix of both our parents.
