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Chapter 1
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Joy Dolinski felt for the faucet handle while she stared out the kitchen window, across the yard toward the aqua blue horse barn next to the gray machinery shed. As she rinsed the breakfast dishes, she watched her grandfather’s employee stride from his rusty pickup truck to the double doors of the shed. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and sunlight glinted off his brown hair before he moved into the building’s shadow.
He slid the right side door open, then moved to the left, impressive biceps bunching beneath the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. Worn, faded blue jeans rode low on his hips, a perfect fit to show off his butt and muscular thighs.
What a waste of a great body.
Logan Walsh may look like he’d walked straight out of a smokin’ hot cowboy calendar, but the man was an irritable, short-tempered jerk. All summer, he’d barely said more than two words to her. Her grandpa on the other hand, he’d chat with him any ol’ time of the day.
“You’re wasting water, dear.”
Joy stiffened at her grandmother’s teasing reproach and quickly reached to shut off the faucet. She lowered her gaze to the dishes, then couldn’t help another peek out the window through her lashes. Logan drove the tractor from the shed, past Grandpa’s new truck and her red convertible, towing the elevator for loading hay into the loft of the horse barn.
“Why Logan Walsh, Grandpa?” The often-thought question slipped out without permission, and now that it finally sat there in the air, she waited with interest for the answer.
Of all the people who could use a job in Redemption, why had her grandpa hired the guy who scowled his way through each day? After watching the man far more than she cared to admit the past few months, Joy was positive the frown lines on his tanned forehead were permanent.
“What kind of question is that, girl? You know as well as everyone else in town how much that boy needs the money.”
“Working here is not going to save his farm.” Which was probably one reason for his crummy attitude, but it didn’t excuse him directing said attitude at her. It wasn’t like she was the one who’d signed his foreclosure notice.
And why was he doing everything all by himself? She knew he had a brother who’d been a year or two behind her in school. Where was Brent Walsh while Logan lost the family farm?
She reached for a towel and dried her hands as she turned around to lean back against the counter in anticipation of her grandfather’s reply to her last statement.
“Who is Logan Walsh?” her grandmother asked, her grayed eyebrows pinched together over blue eyes.
Joy swallowed hard at the brief glimpse of pain that tightened her grandpa’s mouth. Then he smiled, wiping the emotion away. “He’s been helping me take care of the horses, remember, June Bug?”
They waited while the furrow in June Dolinski’s forehead deepened with her battle against the effects of her early-onset dementia. The bad days were coming more often. Still not enough to outnumber the good, but unfortunately, Joy knew all too soon the scale would begin to tip in the other direction.
“That’s right, I forgot. Ed’s boy.”
Joy never took offense that her grandpa called her girl at twenty-eight years old, but she did scoff silently at both of them calling Logan a boy. Though she’d guess him to be a year or two past thirty, there was absolutely nothing boyish about his hard-muscled body and granite set jaw.
Her grandma’s frown turned toward her husband. “Come to think of it, we haven’t seen Ed in quite a while, have we Albert?”
Because their neighbor Ed Walsh had passed away almost five years ago.
Joy exchanged a look with her grandpa. Today could go either way.
Her grandmother’s wrinkled hand lifted to her mouth as her eyes widened. Judging by her horrified expression and the tears that filled her eyes, she’d just remembered the funeral. “Oh, I hate when that happens.”
Joy crossed to the table and laid a hand on the shoulder of the woman who’d raised her since she was two years old, after her parents were killed in a car accident. “It’s okay, Grandma. We all forget things sometimes.”
The older woman shook her head. “Not like that.”
“But you remembered again. You’re doing okay.”
Outside, the sound of the tractor engine shut off, and the elevator motor started up. Her grandpa set his coffee cup down and glanced toward the window. “I should get out there and help Logan unload. After that first one, there’s another wagon out on the second forty.”
Reading the distress in her grandma’s expression, Joy gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “How about I go help with the hay, Grandpa? You and Grandma could take a walk down by the pond with Sweet Pea.”
A grunt from the other room acknowledged the mention of the animal’s name. Summoned by the word walk, Sweet Pea snuffled into the room, nose twitching. Yep, some people’s grandparents had dogs, or cats, or birds. Hers had a pot-bellied pig. One that was so ugly she was cute, with her black and white nose, wiry hair, and curly-que tail.
Smaller than the average pot belly at just under eighty pounds, the pig went everywhere they could possibly take her. She’d had a litter of piglets last winter, but thankfully, Grandpa had talked Grandma out of keeping any, and Rick Wilde had put up a sign at his veterinary clinic to help find homes for every last one of them.
Her grandmother swiped a hand over her moist eyes, still recovering from the memory slip a moment ago. “A walk would be nice.”
“It’s a great morning for it, Grandpa,” Joy added. “Now that we’re past Labor Day, winter will be here far sooner than we’d like, and there won’t be many chances to go before the snow flies. When you get back, you two can work on the puzzle Grandma started yesterday in the sunroom.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. Plus, I could use the workout.”
He shook his head at her excuse, but relented without argument. He never argued with what his June Bug wanted.
As her grandmother went to get her sweater, he stood and pulled Joy into a quick, tight hug. “Thank you,” his gruff voice sounded in her ear.
“Anytime, Grandpa. Enjoy the morning, okay? Enjoy Grandma.”
