Читать книгу Falling for the Lawman - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 12

Chapter Three

“There is a bicentennial committee meeting tonight.” Lucia tapped the calendar page with one blunt finger the following morning. Her voice said attending the meeting didn’t make her short list, but they both knew one of them needed to be there to represent their farm.

“We can have Noreen stay late and help at the ice cream window.” Piper tugged on socks, hating the heat but knowing her boots would chafe if she didn’t layer up. “Can you check with her, see if that’s okay? I’ll go to the meeting,” she continued. Lucia’s quick smile rewarded her decision. “It’s at seven, so just make sure I don’t forget. And remind me in time to grab a quick shower, okay?”

“I’ll text you. And Piper...” Lucia compressed her lips, a sure sign of trouble.

“What? What’s happened?”

Lucia dipped her chin toward the west-facing window. “The Hogans are putting their farm on the market.”

No.

Lucia breathed deep, watching her, because she understood the implications. Kirkwood Lake was becoming more populated. The beautiful lake, nestled between the rise of Enchanted Mountains and the lake plains of Lake Erie, had been overlooked for years during a depressed economy, but Piper had been approached by developers twice this past spring, both offering big bucks to turn McKinney Farm into an upscale subdivision with lake rights on the upper northwest shore.

Piper and Lucia had declined both offers, but Vince and Linda’s farm sat above hers. The lake and quaint town sat below. As the Hogans aged, Piper’s father had leased nearly eighty acres from them, acreage Piper used for corn. If the Hogans sold their farm, where would she find acreage for next year and the years to come, especially if increasing land values tempted more farmers out of the game?

“We’ll figure this out.” Lucia made the promise as if they had choices.

They didn’t.

Piper crossed to the milking barn quickly. She’d oversee the morning chores with Berto, hope that Chas showed up to the dairy room on time, and try to accept the things she could not change, like the imminent For Sale sign in front of the neighboring farm.

Trouble was, she’d never grasped that life lesson well.

“Need a hand this morning?”

The disembodied voice startled Piper. She bit back a girly screech, then recognized Zach’s father moving her way. “Mr. Harrison?”

“Call me Marty.”

She raised one shoulder in acknowledgment, but the adrenaline rush of having him here in the shadowed dawn kept her heart pumping. “It’s early for ice cream, isn’t it?”

His smile reassured her. Dimmed hints of Zach’s good looks and humor came through the softened expression. “Is it ever too early for ice cream?”

Piper shook her head, trying to feel the situation out and coming up short. “No. Not in my world, anyway.”

Marty motioned to his right. “Zach’s got a massive backyard project scheduled, so he’s gone to the Home Depot. I’m an early riser, I hate television and I worked on a farm for years. I’d like to help if you’ve got stuff to keep me busy.”

Did she have stuff?

And then some.

But a cash shortfall made her keep the staff minimal to the point of negligible. “There’s always work here. Compensation for that work is another matter,” she told him as she moved into the barn. Berto lifted a hand in greeting as he tended the initial group of Holsteins, then he stood straighter, shoulders back, as he spotted the strange man at Piper’s side. He moved their way, protective but open, qualities Piper loved about her middle-aged step-uncle.

“I don’t need money,” Zach’s father told her.

Piper might be young, but she’d never met anyone who didn’t need money. And Marty’s clothes―which were somewhat loose and dated―said if he had money, he didn’t spend it on his appearance. Which made his assertion more doubtful.

“Free help?” Berto defused the moment with a smile and waved Marty his way. “And I heard you say you have worked on a farm, no?”

“Yes.”

Berto’s expression said Marty had come to the right place. “He can work with me here,” he told Piper.

Piper read what Berto wasn’t saying, that he’d keep an eye on Marty and make sure things were on the level. Having a strange guy, a new neighbor, show up out of the blue wasn’t the norm in Kirkwood.

It’s not the norm anywhere, her brain scolded.

Mixed feelings made Piper hesitate. She didn’t know this man.

You’ve met his son, the cop. How bad can he be?

“I’ll take this side.” Moving with more grace than Piper had observed the night before, Marty took a spot on the milking row opposite Berto. Without a glance in either direction, he began prepping the cows with a dexterity Piper almost envied.

Berto met her gaze. “We’ve got this.”

Dismissed.

Which meant she could move the unfreshened heifers onto new pasture earlier than planned. She climbed into the pickup truck, headed west, turned the young cows out in record time, and was back to the house ninety minutes earlier than usual.

“You are back.” Lucia frowned her way as she ladled pancake batter onto a hot griddle. Plump blueberries sizzled and burst in the heat, filling the air with sweet, summer fragrance. “The milking is done or the vacuum machine is broken?”

“Neither. Zach’s dad came over to help. He and Berto are doing the milking.”

“The policeman’s father is working here?”

Piper made a face. “Weird, huh?”

Lucia set her gaze hard. “I have little trust for those who butt in to another’s business.”

“And yet you help so many, Lucia.” Piper shrugged, grabbed coffee and buttered a steaming pancake. Then she took a sifter of powdered sugar, generously applied it to the pancake, rolled the whole thing into a cylinder and raised it to her mouth to bite. “You’re always first in line to help with church functions or folks down on their luck.”

“We are not down on anything that hard work and a heart for God won’t fix.” Lucia flipped the sizzling cakes with more zest and authority than could ever be needed. “We are independent. Industrious. Hardwork—”

“Whoa.” Piper paused the pancake roll without a bite, and the scent of it, sugary-fruitiness waiting to be consumed, made her wish she could ignore Lucia’s angst.

She couldn’t. “Luce, he’s not exactly breaching our defenses. He’s running milk lines to udders. And Berto’s got things under control. Right?”

Lucia’s frown said it wasn’t right, but then her expression became subdued.

Piper turned.

Zach stood in the doorway much as he had two nights before, only this time thick concern worried his brow. “Have you guys seen my father? I had to run some errands at first light. He’s not home and he’s not the take-a-walk type. I wondered if he might have headed over here?”

“He did. We have him sequestered in the milking parlor, where he seems right at home, and you’re just in time for food.” Piper eyed the cooling rolled pancake in her hand and decided it was thoroughly gauche to eat a pancake like that in front of a great-looking guy, even if she had declared him off-limits. Swallowing a sigh, she started to put the pancake down as Zach stepped through the door.

“You roll your pancakes, too?”

“Too?”

He nodded, dipped a smile toward Lucia and slanted a questing gaze toward the plate. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He repeated Piper’s butter and sugar maneuvers, then rolled the cake tightly and took a bite. “Ah, Lucia. Es muy delicioso.”

Zach rolled his pancakes. Just as she did. That had to mean something, right?

Sure, her internal command center noted. It means he’s hungry. Leave it alone. “Your father knows dairy cattle. Milking procedures. Why is that?”

Zach met her look directly. “I told you. I was a farm boy. Worked with my father for years.”

“And this farm was...?”

“Central New York. About two hours east.”

“And now—”

“Sold. Nearly two years ago.”

She’d have to be blind or foolish to miss the note of regret in the lawman’s eye, a resignation in his tone. Knowing the intricacy of maintaining a profitable farm, she had no trouble understanding how difficult that must have been for Marty. “I’m sorry. These are hard times.”

Zach’s gaze agreed, but he pasted a smile on his face as footsteps approached the back door. Piper took his cue and dropped the conversation. “Hey. You guys made record time. Marty, you’re showing me up.”

Berto kicked his boots off, came in and headed for the kitchen sink. He indicated Marty as if they were long-lost best friends. “Me, too. I had to move quickly to pretend to keep up.”

His words put a smile on Marty’s face, a genuine look of pleasure.

“Amazing pancakes.” Zach made the pronouncement as he helped himself to another one. He paused, eyeing Piper’s hand and the uneaten cake. “You haven’t eaten yours.”

“I will.”

“It’s cold.” He swiped hers with an athlete’s dexterity and handed her the hot, buttered cake roll he’d just made. “Eat this one while it’s hot, because I don’t make sacrifices casually.”

She took a bite of the rolled-up pastry and agreed with him on one thing: the tubed cakes were fine cold, but they were melt-in-your-mouth delicious while warm.

But she didn’t buy that he didn’t make sacrifices casually. His job, his presence, the slightly careful attention he paid his father?

She was willing to bet Zach Harrison made casual sacrifices every single day, but was too darn nice to know it.

* * *

Piper moved farther into the town hall conference room that evening, but kept toward the rear purposely. Getting out quick at meeting’s end meant getting home early, always a plus.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a new but familiar voice offered softly, far too close to her right ear to ignore. “We could have come down together.”

Goose bumps prickled Piper’s arms, and she didn’t have to turn to know who was standing behind her at the crowded bicentennial planning meeting. After meeting him three days ago, Zach’s voice had already found its way past her defenses. Not good. Not good at all.

“I walked down.” She didn’t turn so he moved closer, off to her right, his arm snug against hers in the crowded conditions. A good fire marshal would demand that thirty people, minimum, should leave because the room was grossly over limit, but the fire marshal was on the board and knew how to pick his battles in their small town. “My great-great-grandparents were some of the original settlers.”

“Generational farm.”

“Yes.” She turned to face him more fully and recognized the bad move in record time. Away from him, it was easy to dismiss his breadth and solidity. That strong, stalwart commanding presence. In the abstract, she could write off his warmth, the humor in those bright blue eyes, the air of protection he carried intrinsically.

Up close now?

Not a chance.

He smiled down at her, and something in the ease of that grin called to her, but she’d been there, done that and wasn’t about to repeat the mistake, especially in front of over one hundred townies as the meeting was called to order.

Twenty minutes in, Piper was glad she’d left Lucia home with the girls. Lucia’s patience thinned with protocol, and by the time they’d waded through last month’s minutes and changes and voted on those changes, she was ready to head for the hills herself.

“Why don’t they send the minutes out as an email, ask for adjustments, make those adjustments, then start the meeting with acceptance of the amended minutes?” Zach whispered the question into her right ear, having no idea what the tickle of breath did to her pulse.

“I dare you to make that suggestion.”

He swept the aging crowd a look, then shrugged acceptance. “Gotcha.”

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” He leaned closer again. Piper pointed front and center where an aging woman with a really bad dye job stood, jabbing a finger toward the bicentennial board appointees.

“Violet Yardley, our resident revivalist. She’s rich, owns land that straddles both counties and wants things her way.”

“South shore, not far from Clearwater, adjacent to the vacant campgrounds.”

“That’s one of her properties. Yes. I take it you’ve patrolled down there?”

“Troopers, sheriffs and the occasional Clearwater cop have been called on-site, even though it’s off the Clearwater jurisdiction. Empty cottages and spaced-out kids from the city make a bad combo. She wants to run the show here, huh?”

Piper slanted him a quick look of approval. “She can’t, but she’ll make a solid attempt.”

He placed a strong but light hand on her shoulder, a touch that meant more when accompanied by his words. “Can’t blame folks for trying, can you?”

“Blame, no.” She met the twinkle in his gaze with a solid look of determination. “Refuse? Yes.”

* * *

He heard the words. Read the look. And he wasn’t foolish. He’d seen the careful way she’d handled his question about Luke Campbell the previous night, but for whatever reason, God seemed determined to put this woman in his path. Was it random chance that he bought the house abutting her farm? Or God’s will?

He’d have declared “chance” three days ago. Now? He wasn’t so sure. He’d seen his father smile. Rescued a miniature goat. Had his heart won by two little girls bent on mischief.

Whatever the reason, he liked Piper McKinney’s company, but she’d shied away from him. Hint taken. He’d just had nearly two thousand dollars’ worth of pressure-treated lumber delivered to his backyard. For the next two weeks, manual labor, power tools and the scent of sawdust would mark his time. With his father’s help, maybe they could complete the project in the next thirteen days, leaving his hunting season vacation intact. And maybe it would get Marty’s mind off his change of circumstance.

“Do we have representatives from law enforcement here this evening?” The board chairman scanned the crowd as he asked the question.

“Here.” Zach raised a hand, drawing attention from the surrounding room. And with that attention, he noted that more than one person saw him standing closer than was necessary to Piper McKinney. “Trooper Zach Harrison, New York State Police.”

“And here.” From the other side of the room Luke Campbell’s older brother also raised a hand. He made a visual but silent connection with Zach, then turned toward the board. “Deputy Sheriff Seth Campbell. Once the committee firms its plans, Trooper Harrison and I will present our strategy on public safety that will take us through the bicentennial year.”

“You’re working the bicentennial?” Piper looked up at him, and he had to pretend it didn’t affect him. “You hadn’t mentioned that before.”

“I do believe our conversations have centered on raucous birds, tiny goats, cherry ice cream and cows. I don’t think my job has once entered into the mix. Why is that, Piper?”

She flashed a smile. “I talk faster than you.”

“There’s that.” He drawled the words purposely, giving her time. Hoping she’d open up, just a little. But why was he hopeful? What was there about her that drew him?

“And my farm life is fascinating and all-encompassing, and spares me time for little else.”

“I will shrug off the first, chart the second as personal choice, and the third as a cool put off.”

“Whereas I’d call it life and be done with it. We are what we are, we do what we do and life moves on accordingly.”

The annoyance in her tone gave Zach more to chew on.

The meeting adjourned after several progress reports. As folks moved to the exits, an older man came to a stop in front of Piper. Sadness and resignation filled his eyes. “I expect you’ve heard.”

She nodded, reached out and hugged him. “Vince, you do what you have to do. You need to take care of you and Linda.”

“I shoulda offered it to you first before signin’ with that realty place, though.” He twisted his hands, penitent. “I promised your daddy I’d do that.”

Piper shrugged off his apology with a gentle grace Zach envied. “I don’t have the money to buy your land, Vince. You knew that. You saved me an awkward moment.”

The man’s face relaxed a little. “Mother said much the same thing, but it’s good to hear it straight from you. Where will you plant your corn now?”

“We’ll find a place,” Piper assured him. “We always do, don’t we?”

“Yes.” The man smiled, eager to agree, guilt eased. “Farmers always find a way.” He nodded up to Zach and moved off.

Zach stepped in front of Piper, blocking her way to the door of the emptying room, forcing her to face him. “That was a nice thing you did.”

She shrugged.

Her attempt to slough off the compliment deepened his smile. “Where will you plant your corn?”

She bit her lip and frowned. “I have no idea. He’s the second farmer on the west side to fold this year. The town resurgence is wonderful, but it inflates land values like crazy.”

Zach understood that. Their family farm had sold for an outrageous sum of money, cash they thought they’d need to take care of Marty. Only now he was healthy and had money in the bank, and no farm.

By default and proximity, Zach had been the elected decision-maker, which made the situation with his father mostly his fault. The fact that he hadn’t loved the farm was no big secret. Did his father think he’d made that decision casually?

“How big is their place?” He looked toward the exit, where Vince was met by a pretty blonde grandmotherly type who hooked her arm with his.

“Ninety acres. Nearly ten of it is woodlands and hedgerow, but the other eighty we’ve kept prime for nearly a dozen years. Great slope, good drainage, not too rocky. Oops, sorry.”

She made a face, cute and regretful. “More farm talk.”

“I’m getting used to it. Again.”

His wry note made her smile and he liked that, watching her face light up and the furrow in her brow smooth out.

It softened her dogged determination, too, the firm set of her chin and shoulders as she tackled tasks a lot of men would hire out. The softer side held great appeal. The tougher, no-nonsense face she showed more often?

That reminded him too much of his father, tied to the land, the cows, 24/7. He’d lived that once and hated it. He never wanted to live it again.

“Harrison?”

Zach turned as Seth Campbell approached them. “Seth. How are you?”

“I’d be better if you answered your emails,” the deputy replied, but he mellowed the words with a smile.

“Took an unexpected leave,” Zach told him. “Text me, instead. Or just call my cell. There’s not much we can do until they firm up the bicentennial schedule, though, right?”

“True. I was just checking in to see if you’d be here tonight. Piper. How’s everything going? All this heat and no rain making you crazy yet?”

She whacked his arm in a manner that suggested old friends. “No more so than people asking me if the heat and lack of moisture is making me crazy.”

He laughed. “I ran into Chas yesterday.”

“And got an earful, no doubt.”

“And then some. I told him to branch out, look for other work if he hates the farm so much. That’s what you did, right?” Seth settled a frank look toward Zach.

A moment of silence stretched on before Piper turned her attention up. A new level of understanding deepened the green of her irises.

Zach fumbled the moment. “I knew I needed a different kind of work, yes.” His reply sounded lame, even to him, because he knew she’d focused on one key phrase, “hates the farm.” Being an honest man, he wasn’t about to deny it.

* * *

“Farming’s not for everyone.” Piper stepped back, ready to distance herself. Surrounding herself with negative farm talk was in no one’s best interest, especially hers. She was a numbers gal; she understood the fine line between success and failure. But life and faith had taught her to avoid negative energy and seek the bright side of things. An optimist?

Yes, with a realist’s work ethic, and she wasn’t about to let anyone’s unenthusiastic take on her chosen profession bring her down. Not when her balance was already precarious. “Gentlemen.” She started up the road that led toward the farm with a quick wave of dismissal. “I’ve got to get back home. Nice seeing you.”

“You too, Piper.”

Seth’s voice followed her.

Zach’s stayed silent. Just as well, because there was little to say. She’d noted his aversion to farming right off. He’d hated the roosters, the noise, the confusion surrounding her. She sensed that instantly. So why did she let a pair of sweet blue eyes confound her? What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she move on accordingly?

Lesson learned. From this point forward she’d consider herself forewarned. Unapproachable. Off-limits and immune to Zach’s strength and sincerity.

The come-hither blue eyes?

She sighed, pushing herself to walk faster. The magnetic pull of those eyes put her right back in the hot seat every time. What was she going to do about that?