Page 87 of View With Your Heart

“Do you know how hard it is to get a second chance at things? Your mum gave me a second chance when she followed me to this farm.” Mum and Dad met when Dad was gallivanting around Ireland. When his father died of a sudden heart attack, he came home from a trip that initially didn’t have an end date. He’d met Mum, and they were in love, but he’d just inherited the farm. She followed him, and they’d been together ever since.

I remember Mum telling me she was right where she was meant to be.

As I recall their love story, I sarcastically consider—wonder where my wanderlust came from. I’m staring at a man who isn’t much different from me.

“Some things are more important than a game, Gavin.” Dad interrupts my thoughts. “You have a chance to be a father here. But you’re going to pass, aren’t you?”

“Jesus,” I hiss. “You have so little faith in me.”

“No, son. You have little faith in yourself.” He remains calm as he speaks, glancing up at me.

“What do you want me to do?” My voice rises as my arms flail out to my sides, and I uncross my ankles. Standing taller, I glare at my dad in the dark kitchen.

“I can’t tell you what to do. Never could. Decision’s all yours. Do you want to be a father or not?”

“I want to be a father,” I yell.

“Well, there’s your answer,” Dad says.

“That tells me nothing.” Do I move here like Ethan said? Can I work from anywhere like Jacob mentioned? I just don’t know what move to make next, but I know two things.

I want Gee . . . and I want Britton.

Where is she?

+ + +

I don’t try to sneak into Britton’s house later that night, and it takes two more days before I catch her at the tea shop. A woman in a suit has her attention when I enter, and Britton looks ready to hit her over the head with a tea kettle.

“You’ve been a very difficult woman to get a hold of,” the woman teases, and I couldn’t agree more, but as I’m watching Britton, her body language tells me she’s been avoiding this woman.

“I’m not selling,” she snaps, loud and adamant, then she clears her throat. “Miss Sterling, unless you’d like a tea or a scone, I’m going to need you to leave.” Her eyes leap to me but quickly away.

“I have a very interested buyer. He’s willing to pay double the amount as the last offer. He’s very persistent. He wants that land.” I don’t appreciate the edge to her voice, and while I can see that Britton is holding her own against the woman, the realtor is on her last nerve. “It could save you from that hefty tax bill.”

Britton stiffens while her employees both stop moving about. Jenna has been shuffling tea packets, restocking the cabinet close to the counter, while Henry has been simply moving stuff back and forth, keeping close to his boss in case he needs to hold her back or throw himself before her. It’s a comfort to see how much these two people care about Britton, but I care as well, and I’m not liking how this woman is bullying her.

“Excuse me, are you Rebecca Sterling?” I interject, stepping forward. She turns her head to me, doing a quick double take before shifting her body completely to face me. Her smile broadens, and I’ve seen this reaction on women in the past. “And you are?”

She’s sugar-sweet while her words drip with, what does she need to do to get in my pants. Yeah, that’s not happening, but years of fighting off women like her come back to me. I step closer, and her breath hitches. She reaches for her neckline.

“You’re interested in selling old Leo McCurdy’s place?”

“I am. I have a very hot prospect.” Her eyes roll down my body, but I keep my focus.

“And did I hear you mention an issue with the property?” Britton’s breath hitches behind the counter, but I don’t glance over at her.

“A tax bill issue.” Rebecca leans toward me like she’s imparting a secret and didn’t just share throughout the shop. Thankfully, it’s empty of other customers.

“Hmm. That does sound scandalous,” I tease, smiling like I’m in on the gossip. “And also, none of your damn business.”

She straightens at my directness while her mouth pops open.

“That tax bill isn’t going to be an issue for much longer, and I think you’ve been told repeatedly the land isn’t up for sale. If I hear you’ve come around Britton one more time or enter this shop without the intention of ordering a tea, I’ll have you investigated.”

I stare at her, my meaning clear.

“And who do you think you are?”