Lawrence and I barely know each other by comparison, but when I step outside Emma’s house and put my phone to my ear, he answers on the first ring.
“I’m sorry, it isn’t what you think,” he says.
“I know,” I say. “And I’m sorry, too. Want to talk in person?”
“Ten minutes at the coffee shop?”
“Five minutes at your place?” I counter.
“Yes, see you soon,” he says, the relief in his tone making me feel terrible for jumping to conclusions and pushing him away.
But I’m going to make up for it.
Starting today and hopefully continuing for a long time to come.
8
Lawrence
Pacing the deck in the weak mid-winter sun, I stare at the end of the drive, willing Lucy’s truck to appear. It’s the coldest day we’ve had all year—just above freezing—but I don’t feel the chill.
I’m so nervous my palms are sweating, and I’ve had to undo the top button on my coat.
Last night was the best night I’ve had since I moved to Sonoma County. And when I woke up this morning with Lucy, Mercyville finally felt like home.
She feels like home, and I’ve spent too many years making the best of being a lonely bachelor to let her go without a fight.
I don’t make friends or girlfriends easily. Lucy’s right—I can be stuffy and withdrawn, and I hold my emotional cards way too close to my chest for most people. But with Lucy, I can’t help but reach out. I’m compelled to get closer to her fire, even if it burns me in the end.
Finally, she turns into my driveway, setting my heart to slamming as she pulls closer.
She parks a few feet from the porch, meeting my gaze through the window with a scared but hopeful expression, giving me faith that everything is going to be okay.
By the time she spills out of the driver’s side, I’m already down the steps and jogging to meet her.
“I’m sorry,” she says, shutting the door behind her. “I should have given you the chance to explain. I thought I was angry, but I was really just scared. But then I saw you on the news, and I—”
She breaks off with a rush of breath as I swoop her up, hugging her so tight her feet lift off the ground. She wraps her arms around my neck and returns the embrace as she whispers in my ear, “So you still fancy me? I didn’t ruin our second chance?”
“Of course you didn’t. And of course I still fancy you. I fancy you so much, I just got off the phone with Dylan to discuss planting hops on my land instead of Christmas trees.”
She pulls back, studying me with a frown. “What?”
“There’ll be a learning curve, and I’ll have to pay him to teach me the ropes, but within a year or two, I should be able to transition enough land over to quit the tree business entirely.”
Lucy’s eyes go round and sad. “No! You can’t. You love your farm, and you’ve worked so hard on it already.”
“I do enjoy the trees,” I admit, “but not as much as I enjoy you.”
“You’d really do that? Upend your entire life just to date me?”
“Steady date you,” I correct, heart lifting as her lips curve into a sweet smile. “If you’re still on board for a steady situation.”
“I am, but I don’t want you to grow hops. I want you to keep doing what you love and doing me.” She bites her lip, her cheeks reddening as she adds, “So if you want to buy more land, you should do it. I’m not going to put in an offer. It makes more sense for you to take the land. It connects to your property, and you’ll have an easier time taking care of it. I have enough on my plate right now.”
“Keeping your trees pruned and the saucy Santas out of trouble?”
She grins. “Yes. Though I don’t think I’ll have to worry about Hamish anymore. He seems like a man of his word.”
“Agreed. He was unexpectedly delightful, easy to talk to, and very knowledgeable about his products.”
“So did you find something to help you sleep?”
I mold one hand to her ribs while the other drifts down to cup her delectable ass. “I think so… Assuming you’re spending the night?”
“I’d love to,” she says, eyes dancing. “But I wouldn’t be averse to trying a little ‘sleep aid’ with you. I mean, we did just survive one of the busiest tree seasons in history. It seems only right to relax and blow off some steam.”
I smile. “As long as you don’t mind that I enjoy eating peanut butter straight from the jar and singing karaoke when I’m high.”
“Oh my God, me too! This is so on,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist with a giggle. “And let’s make popcorn! And we can dip our peanut butter spoons into the popcorn.”