Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

Sadie blushed and glanced at Ruth Ann. “May I please have some more?”

Ruth Ann beamed. “You certainly may, sweetheart. Take as much as you’d like. Gentlemen, can I get you anything else?”

Dylan, lounging at Sadie’s side on the porch swing, shook his head and returned his attention to his cell phone. Mitch and Lee offered polite declines from their lounge chairs.

Folding her hands in her lap, Ruth Ann pursed her lips, then slowly lifted her lashes and looked across the table. “Emmy?”

Kristen clutched her glass tighter, cold condensation seeping into her palm. Despite being in each other’s company for just over fifteen minutes, the two women hadn’t exchanged words with each other directly yet. And the tension had been easy to pick up on—even for a newcomer. But despite Mitch’s misgivings about the visit, so far, it seemed to be going well.

“No, thank you.” Emmy set her still-full glass of lemonade on the small table. “It’s kind of you to have us.”

Ruth Ann issued a small smile, then gestured toward Mitch. “I hadn’t heard you were coming home, Mitch. How long do you plan on staying?”

“Just until Monday.” The thin material of his shirt stretched across his broad chest as he eased back in his chair. A hoarse note entered his voice, and his big hands curved around the sides of the wicker armrests. “I came back only for the weekend, primarily to check on Emmy and see how Sadie and Dylan were doing.”

Kristen studied his polite expression. The only change was a slight tightening of his strong jaw, but it was enough to stir an ache within her. She looked away, straightening his hat on her head, her fingertips drifting to her temple, where the touch of his calloused thumb still lingered.

“I was so sorry to hear about Carrie,” Ruth Ann said, glancing at the children.

“Thank you.” Mitch reached out, squeezed Dylan’s shoulder and smiled at Sadie, then deftly changed the subject. “I’m looking forward to spending some time with these two while I’m here.”

A wistful look crossed Ruth Ann’s face. “Seems like you inherited your grandpa Joe’s love of kids, too. When your father was young, Joe always enjoyed taking him fishing and hunting.”

Kristen stole another glance at Mitch. His relaxed posture had stiffened again.

“Anything to show off his son,” she continued. “Why, David was only five when Joe—”

“No need for the reminiscing, Ruth Ann,” Emmy said, straightening in her seat and casting a sidelong glance at Mitch. “He knew his dad well enough, and I’ve told him all there is to know about Joe over the years.”

Ruth Ann smoothed her skirt and picked at one of her nails. “Yes, but you may have overlooked a detail or two. I knew Joe as well as you did, and a well-rounded view of a person never hurt.”

Emmy’s mouth thinned and a small tic started below her right eye, but she remained silent.

Ruth Ann sighed, then tilted her head at Emmy. “What brought you in Lee’s direction this morning?”

“Business.” Smiling, Emmy patted Kristen’s wrist. “Me and Kristen are hittin’ the ground running today, and we want to offer Lee a partnership. Right, Kristen?”

She stilled. Emmy hadn’t discussed anything other than riding to the neighbors’. There’d been no talk of borrowing tractors, buckets, or land, and there had certainly been no firm plans of offering anyone any kind of partnership—just an “Ask Mitch to bring the truck around and let’s go” directive.

Kristen shifted awkwardly in her seat, studying the unspoken urging in Emmy’s eyes and the intense scrutiny in Ruth Ann’s. “I . . . yes.”

“I see.” A guarded tone entered Ruth Ann’s voice. “How long have you and Emmy been designing the intricacies of this new business endeavor?”

She swallowed a hefty swig of lemonade before answering. “Not long.”

Ruth Ann nodded. “I’d imagine, considering you just arrived yesterday.”

“Word travels fast here.” Kristen looked at Lee.

“I may have mentioned you were looking for work at Emmy’s place.” He grinned and leaned forward, then propped his elbows on his jean-clad thighs. “It’s not every day I bump into a pretty stranger on this old stretch of highway. You can’t blame a man for wanting to relive the moment in the telling.”

Kristen smiled. Emmy had been right. The man was definitely a big tease and more than handsome. He was as tall as Mitch, his muscular frame filled his chair, and the rippled strength of his arms was just as defined as the other man’s, but he didn’t stir her interest quite like Mitch.

Chancing a glance at Mitch, she caught him watching her, and the steady gaze of his blue eyes evoked flutters in her belly. She shrugged. “I appreciate the compliment, Lee, but—”

“I’m not sure how much work there’ll end up being for Kristen,” Mitch said, returning his attention to Lee. “Or Emmy, for that matter. Hart’s Hollow is on its last leg, and the county is about to seal the deal on that new bypass. Last I heard, it’s projected to cut across the center of our land.”

“That’s not true.” Emmy balled her hands into fists on her thighs. “That decision ain’t final yet, and I got a trick or two left up my sleeve. Namely, showing ’em at the next meeting in Peach Grove on Monday night that our land is too valuable to pave over. As a matter of fact, we’ve already grown four successful acres of strawberries, which are ripe and ready to pick. That’s why I need the buckets.” She turned to Lee. “I remember you saying you had a bunch left over from when you grew ’em a couple years ago. We’ll buy the lot off you if you can spare them.”