Say You'll Marry Me
It was almost nine when she heard him drive in from the field. While he put the tractor and the mower away in the machine shed, she dished up his plate for the microwave, and then finished cleaning in the kitchen. Gram had gone to bed, and Grandpa was doing a crossword puzzle with the second season of Blue Bloods playing in the background on Netflix.
She wiped the counter for a second time while glancing out the kitchen window. Lights shining from the horse barn brought forth a frown. What was he doing out there? The horses had all been fed and settled in for the night two hours ago.
Ten minutes later, she lost her patience and poked her head around the archway to the living room. “Grandpa, I’m going to see what’s keeping Logan in the barn. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
He barely flicked her a glance over the top of his bifocals. “Yep.”
She found Logan loading up the wheelbarrow in the far stall where they stored the clean wood shavings for bedding. He glanced up when her arrival sent Whiskers’ kittens scampering for cover.
“Hey.”
Instead of returning her tentative smile, he scowled and kept working.
Nice.
“I have dinner ready for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll take it with and heat it at home.”
“You’re not coming in the house to eat?”
“Nope.”
She eased up the hem of her sweater enough to slide her hands into her front jeans pockets. Leaning her shoulder against the stall opening, she noted they were down to their last third of the previous bedding delivery. She’d have to remind Grandpa to order more. Or maybe Logan already had.
Her gaze shifted back to his lean, muscular frame. He was trying to ignore her, but she noticed an occasional sideways glance, each time directed at her feet.
“You want some help?” she asked.
“Nope.” He kept scooping and dumping, and when she still didn’t move, he asked, “What do you want?”
I want us to be friends again. I want— “I need to talk to you.”
“As you can see, I’m busy right now.”
“You’re not doing anything that can’t wait until the morning.”
“I still have chores to do at home, Joy. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.”
He made a good point—one that hurt as it poked at her hope as to why he’d gone back to being such a jerk. Maybe he wasn’t bothered by the idea she might still have feelings for her ex-fiancé. He didn’t even want to come in and eat in the house, so he certainly wasn’t hanging around on the off chance he’d see her.
Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with her outside of keeping his word and pretending to like her when he was forced to.
Tough. Joy swallowed past the lump in her throat. She was going to say her piece and he was going to listen. What happened after that was up to him.
She pushed away from the wall and strode forward, heart hammering in her chest. “Stop for a minute so we can talk.”
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t stop. The idiot was so determined to ignore her, the wheelbarrow would overflow with his next scoop. Close enough now, she grabbed hold of the pitchfork handle to yank it from his grasp. When he didn’t let go, she tried to wrestle it away.
“Are you serious right now?” he asked on a burst of surprised laughter as they grappled over the tool.
She grit her teeth. “As serious as you are stubborn, you jackass.”
While he easily retained hold of the pitchfork, she twisted around and hooked one leg behind his. Using her weight, she shoved him off balance and tripped him at the same time. He stumbled back a step before falling back into the shavings, taking her with him.
Chapter 12
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