Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

Throat tightening, Kristen spun around and headed for the house. Each brisk step kicked up a stinging spray of red dirt against her calf muscles, but she continued on, forcing a brief smile at the children as she passed.

Moments later, the familiar tread of heavy footsteps fell in behind hers. “Kristen, wait.”

She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. “I’m sorry, Mitch, but I really need to get back to work in order to have the plans ready on time.”

“I know, but there’s one more thing I need to ask you to do.”

The throb of urgency in his tone slowed her steps. She stopped, waited until he drew close, then said softly, “I’ve followed your notes to the letter, and I’m finalizing the sketches now. Is there anything else you’d like me to add to the polished illustrations?”

“Yes.” His hands settled on her shoulders, then slid down to curve around her upper arms. The tangy scent of his aftershave grew stronger as he dipped his head and kissed the curve of her neck softly. His lips moved against her skin, the warm puffs of his breath ruffling wisps of her hair. “I want you to envision Hart’s Hollow as your own. Imagine that Peach Grove is your town. And I want you to add all the things that would make it feel like home to you.”

In spite of her best effort, a soft sob escaped her. She ducked her head, reached up and squeezed Mitch’s hands, then pulled out of his hold and walked away.

There would be nothing to add to the final illustrations of Mitch’s plans for the property. Hart’s Hollow already felt like home exactly as it was, and walking away from it and the family she’d grown to love would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. The painful act would be second only to letting go of Anna when fate had denied her the option to continue holding on.

But she wasn’t a Hart, and this wasn’t her home. She’d lost her family years ago, and if she stayed, she’d eventually lose Emmy, then Mitch, Sadie, and Dylan. Her heart couldn’t survive another loss that big. She had to remember that and, when it was time, pack up and go.

“I’m no one,” Kristen reminded herself quietly. She ducked under the oak trees’ low branches, crossed the front lawn, and ascended the front porch steps. “Just a hard worker who’ll soon be looking for a new job and place to stay.”

CHAPTER 12

There’s the sweet boy I’ve always known.

Mitch grinned, tightened the towel around his hips, wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror, and stared at his reflection. The tan he’d acquired from weeks spent outside planting the fields, scouting for pests, and spraying weeds had shaded the small crow’s-feet beside his eyes. The thin grooves framing both sides of his mouth had lightened, and the extra ten pounds he’d picked up sitting in a cushy New York office chair over the past several years had fallen off, bringing a youthful definition to his cheekbones.

But what was most noticeable of all was where he stood. Here at Hart’s Hollow, in Emmy’s house, without so much as a scratch on him, preparing a way to persuade a committee of fifteen Adams County residents to save his childhood home, a once abusive and painful place. Somehow, he’d grown to feel connected to the land in so many ways since he’d met and begun working with Kristen.

He dragged his thumb and forefinger across the stubble on his jaw and smiled. “What I want you to understand is that I never thought a stretch of land in the middle of nowhere could end up mattering so much to me.”

No. That wasn’t quite right. There was so much more to it than that.

He shifted his stance, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Three months ago, I was as skeptical as you and believed Hart’s Hollow Farm was nothing more than land that needed to be sold and paved over in the interest of progress. But now I—”

He what? Frowning, Mitch stared at the sink and rubbed his palm absently over his abs, where droplets of water from his recent shower clung to his skin.

“Now it’s . . .”

Impossible to imagine feeling as though he truly belonged anywhere else. Or uncovering the kind of hidden beauty—small pieces of heaven—that he’d found here, beneath painful memories and years of regretful neglect. Things like the unwavering devotion he’d found in Emmy; the untarnished hope Sadie and Dylan still possessed, despite the hardships they’d faced; and the quiet strength and endless comfort Kristen offered, despite the pain that obviously still lived inside her.

“Need some help with your speech?”

He started, his hip banging into the corner of the sink as he faced Kristen, who stood in the bathroom doorway.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her grin fading as her wide eyes drifted over his bare chest, then lingered on his right hip, where he rubbed the sore spot. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was going to freshen up before the meeting and didn’t realize you were still in here.” Face red, she spun on her heel. “I’ll come back la—” “No.” He snagged the hem of her T-shirt and tugged. “There’s plenty of room. I’ll take one side of the sink, and you can have the other.” Smiling, he shrugged. “Besides, I think I could use some help in the speech department. My nerves tend to get the better of me, no matter how many presentations I’ve given.”

Blushing a deeper red—if that was even possible—she glanced over her shoulder, met his eyes, then skirted carefully around him to the other side of the sink.

“Here.” Mitch reached around her and scrubbed a second steam-free c

ircle in the mirror. “Have at it.”

“Thanks.” Biting her lower lip, she tugged a drawer open, grabbed a ponytail holder, and pulled her long hair back. “Emmy and Dylan are ready. They’re waiting on the front porch. And I just helped Sadie fix her hair, so we should be able to head out whenever you’re ready.”

“Sounds good.” He grabbed a toothbrush, applied toothpaste, then began brushing, pausing every so often to speak around the bristles. “I looked over your illustrations last night. They’re perfect. Thank you.”

It was amazing what she’d accomplished in such a small amount of time. His bland black-and-white architectural sketches had been re-created on large canvases and given life with splashes of color and delicate details. But there’d been plenty of extra time for her to concentrate, considering she’d distanced herself from him, Emmy, and the kids more and more over the past four days.

“You’re welcome.” She twisted the top off ajar of moisturizer, dipped her fingers in the white cream, then smoothed it into her cheeks with slow circular movements. “If you need something else, just let me know.”