Gretta turned her thoughtful gaze back toward the field and the men and hummed, her foot pressing down into the wooden plank beneath her foot once more to get the chair moving again. “I guess maybe you’re right. Although, I’ve been chasing after younger men my whole life.” She chuckled, licking a bit of cream from her lip before continuing. “Pete—that’s my husband, in case ya forgot—was a mite younger than me, too.” She smiled wistfully. “Five years my junior, and boy did my ma and pa have a fit.”
“That’s not a lot,” Vivian commented. “Demi Moore married twenty years her junior, and then there’s Cameron Diaz dating Justin Timberlake. Now those are cougars!”
Gretta’s eyebrows popped up. “Hey, if they can get it…”
Vivian met her eyes, a bit surprised by her take on it. “You are feisty, woman!”
“Ain’t never been accused of being docile,” she agreed. “It’s what attracted Pete. People always claim a man needs a submissive woman, but I always said that a man needs a woman who can make life interesting.”
Sticking a piece of pie into her mouth, Vivian mulled that over while returning to watch the men finish their work. She wasn’t sure where she fit into that little revelation.
Vivian had always been very even-keeled. At least that’s how she viewed herself. She liked predictability, even though on occasion she could be spontaneous. Hitting the open road without a solid plan had been the height of her spontaneity, but she was feeling the effects of that now. As if she’d been drained of energy, she could feel the drive to keep pushing, to keep driving bleeding out of her by the hour. The longer she stayed here, the more she thought about settling in. Maybe it was her, or maybe it was the town itself, she didn’t know, but she was beginning to feel at home.
She hated to admit that. Home had never been an old house in the countryside with the smell of cow manure clinging to the air like a sticky paste, in her mind, yet here she was, considering it. Maybe she was maturing? From kept woman to farm girl in several hundred miles. Her father would read her the riot act if he knew where she was right now. She’d be the talk of the party and an embarrassment to the whole family.
Hell, what did she care? She never liked them much anyway.
Gretta and the rest of the people here—maybe even Nash, as much as she hated to admit it—were far more humble, caring, and genuine than anyone she’d ever known. Despite being perfect strangers, she felt pretty darn comfortable around them. She might wear brand name clothes and drive a car that probably cost more than they made in a year, but she felt like she fit in here more than anywhere she’d ever been in her life. They were just down-to-earth. She didn’t feel judged—except by Nash, but he was just a moody doofus with a chip on his shoulder. If she were to choose, it was a good place to be.
“You know, you and Nash would make a good pair.”
Vivian snapped her attention back to Gretta, shocked. “A pair of what?”
Chuckling, she set her empty plate on the floor beside her feet and shook her head. “Like I said… A couple, dear.”
Horrified. That’s what Vivian felt about that. “So we were right. Youaretrying to set us up. Sorry to say, but not in this lifetime.”
“Why not? You’re both stubborn mules that wouldn’t know a good thing if it reached up and smacked ya in the face. I think that makes a pretty good pair if you ask me.”
Scowling at Nash’s sweaty, sun-kissed back in the distance, Vivian set aside the mule comment. “To me, that’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Hum, worked for me and Pete.” Gretta shrugged.
That saying about opposites attracting came to mind, and Vivian found herself staring, once again, at Nash’s shadowy form. They’d actually had a decent time out together. He wasn’t exactly what she would call a gentleman; at least, not when it came to her, but she felt like there were some good parts of him lying just beneath the surface. Maybe he was hiding them from everyone—or just her. All she knew was they didn’t get along. Mostly. Although it had improved somewhat since Gretta forced them to hang out together.
“Is he always so…”
“Pigheaded?” Gretta supplied. “Yes.”
“I was actually going to say frustrating, but that works, too.”
Gretta considered her words before speaking. “He’s had a rough time of it. Life hasn’t always treated him fairly. But I think with a bit of patience and understanding, he’ll come around. He’s a good man.”
Vivian had a feeling that Gretta didn’t speak those words lightly. She was the type of person who struck her as painfully honest. Blunt to a fault. And while it could be uncomfortable, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Pushing her weathered body from the chair, Gretta retrieved her plate and held out her hand until Vivian placed her own in it. “I think I’ll head on in and read a bit. Enjoy the rest of your evening, dear.”
“Thank you for the company. Enjoy your book.”
Alone, Vivian watched the sun slowly setting against the horizon, the men tending the land, and occasionally slapping the errant bug from her exposed skin, all while mulling over Gretta’s words.
Nash was a hard worker, of that she was certain. He hadn’t taken a break in over an hour, despite the heat. He was loyal to Gretta; she was certain of that, too. And he was kind to the rest of the people in town, never speaking a cross word that she’d heard. Even if he was a touch grouchy. But that just seemed to be the way he carried himself.
What had Gretta meant about life not treating him fairly? What kind of problems had he faced? What injustices? Life seemed so simple out here, but something had undoubtedly put that chip on his shoulder.
Now, Vivian was curious to find out what it was.
NINE