He smiled. “Lee? He’s back?”
That hadn’t been the plan. Seven years older than Mitch and an admired high school quarterback, Lee Hadden had left Stellaville for the University of Georgia twenty years ago on a full-ride scholarship. He was a good guy with a good head on his shoulders, and getting out of Stellaville had been as high a priority for him as it had been for Mitch.
“Yep. Has been for nine years now, ever since Daryl died.” Emmy sniffed. “Ruth Ann needed him, and he was happy to come back.”
Mitch’s cheeks heated. He avoided looking in the side mirror and changed the subject as he drew the truck to a halt in front of a large white house, its green metal roof glinting under the sunlight. “I see Ruth Ann’s been keeping up the flower beds Daryl planted.”
And not only those but also the entire estate itself. No rotting porch rails, battered shutters, or barren land here. Just a lush lawn manicured to perfection; wide, sparkling windows; and pristine wicker furniture adorning the front porch. Genteel, stately, and Southern—just like Ruth Ann.
Emmy harrumphed. “She hired some landscaping company. Never was one to get her nails dirty. That’s why Lee came back. Widowed or not, she wasn’t gonna dig in the
dirt and plant crops herself.”
Shoulders stiffening, Mitch cut the engine. “Emmy, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I know, I know,” she huffed, thrusting open her door. “I’m not here to stir up any trouble. I just need to talk to Lee, and he’s never turned me away, so come on.”
He assisted Emmy out of the truck, then helped Sadie and Dylan climb down. By the time he reached her side, Kristen already stood in the driveway, squinting up at the house. A deep flush stained her cheeks, and a blond tendril of hair clung to her sweaty forehead.
After pausing, Mitch moved to the truck bed, pried the rusty built-in toolbox open, and sifted through various items before catching the flash of a red brim in the corner of the toolbox. He grinned, tugged the hat out, then beat it against his pant leg to knock off the dust.
“Here.” He lifted it in Kristen’s direction. “It’s a bit worn, but it’ll keep the sun out of your eyes.”
She turned, glanced at the hat and smiled. That sweet tilt of her mouth was a replica of the one she’d presented when he first arrived—warm, inviting. It tugged at something deep in his middle. A small whirl of sensation. Equal parts excitement, desire, and anticipation. Something he hadn’t felt since his teenage years.
“May I?” he asked, holding up the hat and stepping closer.
She hesitated briefly, then nodded and looked up at him. Her green eyes followed his hands as they settled the hat in place, tucked her bangs beneath the brim, and smoothed a moist curl from her temple.
His thumb—broad against her delicate bone structure—lingered on her cheek. “Better?”
The pink tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth and her chest lifted on a deep breath before she refocused on his face. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Mitch!” Lee strode across the front lawn from the direction of the fields, smiling and waving a hand in their direction. “Good to see you, man. What’s it been? Ten, fifteen years since I last saw you?”
“Thereabouts.” Mitch stepped back from Kristen, then shook Lee’s hand when he arrived. At just over six feet, he reached the same height as Mitch, and other than a smattering of gray in his hair, he looked the same as ever, his brawny frame still strong. “Looks like you’re doing good.”
“For an old man?” Lee joked, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m doing all right.” He looked at Kristen and smiled wider. “I see you made it the night.”
Mitch frowned and glanced at Kristen.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry . . . Have we met?”
“Yesterday.” Lee gestured toward the highway. “Right up that stretch of road. You were looking for Emmy’s place.”
Kristen’s head drew back as she looked Lee over. “Oh. I . . . didn’t recognize you.”
“Nah. Didn’t expect you to.” He shrugged. “First impressions can be deceiving. I’d just come out of the fields, hadn’t shaved in days and was driving Old Beaut.”
“Old Beaut?” she asked.
Lee pointed to the far side of the lawn at a beat-up truck overcome with rust. “Old Beaut. She’s my farming girl. Might have some years on her, but she’s strong and solid.”
Nodding, Kristen smiled. “That’s the best kind.”
“You know it.” Lee held out his hand and gripped Kristen’s, his fingers squeezing hers a bit too long for Mitch’s liking. “Seems you didn’t take my advice about the storm.”
“About getting out?” Kristen raised her brows. “I like a challenge.”