Page 72 of Finding Solace


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“I’ve been thinking about our future and the farm. I have money—”

She’s shaking her head before she speaks. “I’m not letting you spend your money on the farm, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Wow, I didn’t even get the offer out. Is it pride that keeps you holding so tightly to a sinking ship in the face of a life raft?” I take her hand, and despite her unease in the conversation, her fingers lace with mine. “Tell me, Delilah, what if I want to help?”

A heavy sigh prefaces her head tilting to lean on my shoulder. As if the wind inspires her, she turns to me. “I don’t know what kind of money you made or have, for that matter. It’s not something I’ve thought about since you came into my life.” She shrugs. “I think I thought you returned because you were just like me and everyone else in this town, living day-to-day. But more importantly, whatever money you have, you have more than earned. You were shot. You’ve done unimaginable things for that money—”

“Is it too dirty to use it for a good cause?”

She scoffs with a ridiculously adorable grin as the sunshine enters her eyes, causing her to squint and finally face me. “I’m not that high and mighty, Jason. I meant that you’ve had to sacrifice so much to earn every dollar.”

“Everyone who works makes sacrifices.”

“Usually not with their life.”

“I didn’t think I would, but shit happens. Things go wrong. Bad people sometimes get ahead, but they don’t win.”

“What happened to them? I know one died.”

“They all died.” The confession doesn’t shake her, her expression remaining one of indifference. I walk to the edge of the water and squat down. Picking a weed, I rub it between my fingers before tossing it to the ground. “You have more questions, so let’s just address them and move past this.”

“Why did that note from Cruise say Eric on it?”

“Because it wasn’t from Cruise. It was from my old . . . boss, a friend. Acquaintances. I don’t know what to call them. I consider them friends and allies more than anything else.”

“So it’s like an inside joke?”

“It was an alias at one time.”

“Eric,” she repeats, trying out the name. “You chose Eric. It doesn’t suit you.”

Chuckling, I ask, “And Jason does?”

“Yes. To me, it’s just a part of who you are. Like Cuddle Bear.” Laughter escapes her sweet grin.

I huff. Am I ever going to live that down? “You can call me that if you like.”

She bumps up against me playfully. “Okay, Cuddle Bear.”

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I ask, “Anything else you’re wondering about?” Digging the toe of her shoe into the ground, she keeps her gaze lowered. “What’s wrong?”

“When you tell these stories about being shot or working on movie sets, I feel like you’ve lived a whole lifetime without me. You went on adventures and saw the country. You lived a life I thought I’d be sharing with you. I worry I won’t be enough for you. That you’ll get bored and—”

My eyes widen. “You feel left out because I was shot?”

That earns me a half smile. “Not that. You know what I mean.”

“Nothing compares to being on that farm with you no matter where or how far I traveled. If I could change things, I would. I would come back after college for you.”

“You swear?”

“On my life.”

“No, not on your life. I’m not willing to risk that.”

We start walking along the bank. “Okay. On Cutler’s life.”

She bursts out laughing. “That shouldn’t be as funny as it is.”

“You have a dark side, Ms. Noelle.”

Elbowing my side, she says, “It’s from hanging around an assassin.”

“Let’s go with bodyguard. It’s fitting. So you successfully avoided digging deeper in to the topic of finances, but I also wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“All right.”

“I know you’re recently divorce—”

She startles, catching me off guard. “Oh, my God. Are you going to ask me to marry you?”

“What?” A hand flies to my hair, and I run it through. “No. Wait. I mean—” The heartbreak on her face does me in. I rush to cup her face in my hands. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you meant you were going to ask me.” She looks away, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

An ache grows in my chest at seeing the pain on this woman’s face. “If you’d say yes, I’d marry you right now.” Beautiful eyes the color of bluebirds peer up at me. She wears her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see. It’s battered like mine but filled with so much love to give. “I would.”

“I’m a recently divorced, almost bankrupt farmer in the middle of nowhere. My spirit has been bruised along with my body. I have a lot more scars than I had when I was wearing that Freeland County tiara. I feel older than my years because of them. And here you come, riding back into town, and screwing up my plans of being a spinster for the rest of my life.”

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