Page 92 of Silver Brewer

She would have called me if she wanted me to know. It’s clear she doesn’t. She got what she wanted with Finn, and he’ll have a great life.

I just wish I could be in it—with both of them.

Instead, I delete the email and call my brother Charlie for a ride home, where I’ll be going alone. Always alone.

34

Name your price

[Giant]

After my lacking celebratory drink with James, I give in to the longing to isolate myself. I head up the mountain the following weekend. I haven’t had the heart to come to the cabin all spring, sensing memories of Letty would be all around me, but she never entered the place. We’d been higher up on Pap’s land instead. And I want the solitude.

The heavy thwack of an ax splintering wood does nothing to ease my thoughts or the worrisome questions within my head. Why did Marcus send the email and not Letty? How had Marcus found me? I assume my information is office knowledge after Letty’s attempt to solicit me for my land. I want to smile at the memory of her, but instead, I hammer down at the wood with more force. I don’t want her to be a memory. I want her in my arms, in my home, in my heart.

I walk up the porch of the cabin to stack an armful of chopped wood by the front door and then return to the yard, preparing to start chopping another pile when an SUV clears the trees and exits the narrow drive.

Now what? I mutter in my head. No one comes up here. You’d have to be really lost to stumble upon this place.

The SUV draws near, and my fingers clench harder at the shaft of the ax in my hand. My chest heaves as I consider throwing it at the windshield to stop whoever is driving recklessly close to me. The vehicle stops short of my wood pile, and the driver door opens. For a second, the offending driver is hidden by the large door. Then, out steps a woman, one I recognize immediately with my eyes, my heart, and another body part that hasn’t been used on the regular since some time back in the winter.

Cricket, my heart screams, but I don’t speak to her.

“Mr. Harrington?”

Is she serious? I watch as her throat rolls with a swallow, and her hands clench at her sides. Her eyes stay focused on mine. She’s wearing tight jeans with flip-flops and a tank top. Her clothes hug her body, outlining a form I’ve missed with each passing second of the past few months. It’s warm for late May. The trees are all in bloom, and the sky is bright, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

“George Harrington the second?” she formally inquires, and I drop the ax in order to cross my arms. I turn my head away from her, staring off in the distance. She’s kidding me, right?

“Giant,” she whispers, and I close my eyes. My heart squeezes. I want to run to her, wrap her in my arms, and inhale the scent of her hair. Mouthwatering apricots.

Then I want to shake her for breaking my heart.

“Where’s Finn?” I ask, turning back to the SUV and wondering if she left him somewhere back in Chicago at her home.

“He’s sleeping.” She hitches a thumb in the direction of the vehicle.

He’s here. She brought Finn with her. She’s free to travel about the country.

“What are you doing here?” I don’t want to ask. I want to wait her out and hear her explanation before I sound desperate; however, my voice is rough and the question harsh. Her hands clutch together before her, and her head lowers.

“I don’t suppose you’d believe I was in the area. That would seem a little impossible. Then again, I could say I’m looking for property, which I am. I’m looking to make an investment for a buyer, and I heard this is a good area. Pretty trees. Lovely sky. The male scenery isn’t too bad, either.”

Not this again.

She’s rambling to fill the space, and her lips curl up at the corner, pleased with herself. If she’s flirting with me, she’s going to have to try a lot harder. I’m hurt. We’ve had no contact since the break-up phone call. The rip-me-to-shreds-and-throw-me-away-in-the-wind phone call. I wrote a hundred emails and deleted them all. I never received one from her. I want her reasons. I want to understand.

You destroyed me, I want to yell at her while she stares at me all adorable in her tight jeans and teasing smile with chirping lips. Lips I want to kiss. I’m a fucking contradiction.

“There’s nothing for sale here,” I say, keeping my tone curt. My heart races, and my arms tighten around my chest, willing myself to stay still and not approach her.

“Perhaps in town?” My brows pinch. What does she mean? “Or something in the general area?”

What? “Land’s empty and owned for miles.”

“I could build. I know those Duncans have a construction business in the family.”

What the…?