Not that it mattered. The shirtless routine was stupid, and she certainly wasn’t going to let her guard down just because he had a few daddy issues or made her insides feel like melted Jell-O. Those were wholly secondary to beating him at the market.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met your dad. How is that possible in New Benton?” He smiled down at her, but the way his lips curved was tight and uncomfortable, as if it was a very forced smile. A forced conversation.
Well, darn it. Dell wasn’t supposed to have hidden depths or be nice enough to force conversation. Mia looked at the faded logo on his chest. “Probably because he’s a hermit.”
Dell laughed, and she absolutely got no secret thrill from that. “No, seriously, outside of my family there are only three people he talks to. The priest at Saint Mary’s, Rick at Orscheln and the guy who buys our milk.”
The song ended, but Dell didn’t let go of her hand. Mia’s stomach did a weird flipping drop when he squeezed it instead.
“Wanna keep going until those two stop going at it?”
He gestured to Cara and Kevin making out in the dark corner. Mia grimaced. “Yeah. Sure.”
“You know, you’re pretty good at letting the guy lead in a dance. I thought you’d be trying to boss me around. It’s a little shocking. You’re not half-bad.”
Mia smirked. “Coming from the guy who coined ‘Mia, Queen of the Geeks,’ that’s quite a compliment.”
His head snapped back. “I didn’t make that up.”
“Well, you’re the first person I remember calling me it to my face,” Mia returned. When his face fell into surprise and discomfort, and then guilt, Mia shifted uncomfortably in his grip. “I remember it quite clearly. Nothing like the homecoming king and queen laughing at you in the cafeteria when you’re a lowly sophomore.”
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry.” When he moved to the music this time, the distance between them shrunk. He lowered his mouth closer to her ear, and Mia had to focus on the high school memory to keep her heart from escaping her chest and galloping out the door.
He made her stomach tie in knots, but it wasn’t the kind she was used to. These weren’t so much painful as they were...uncomfortable. Laced with a jittery excitement, a bizarre impulse to lean closer.
Oh, no, she could not do that. “Long time ago,” she managed to croak. She moved to get a fraction of the distance between their bodies back. “Might have hurt my feelings at the time, but I got over it.” Eventually. There were really only a few people she still harbored any bitterness toward, and Dell wasn’t one of them. He’d been careless, but never malicious.
“Well, I’m still sorry. I wasn’t big on thinking much beyond my own feelings at the time. Overhearing that nickname would be bad enough. Imagine it’s worse having someone say it to your face.”
Mia shrugged, more to hide the shiver as his breath danced along her neck. “High school. Most of us weren’t thinking. I’m not worried about it. I was a geek. Either trying too hard to fit in or too hard to be invisible. Neither ever worked. In a town this size, you don’t get to disappear.” Why was she talking about this? Oh, yeah, because she never could shut her yap when she was uncomfortable.
When Dell didn’t say anything, Mia bit her lip to keep the words from pouring out. She made it about five seconds before she couldn’t stand it. “I’m pretty sure there’s a statute of limitations on name-calling in high school. It ended a few years ago. Forget it.”
Since she couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes, considering her face was probably red from the roots of her hair to the V of her shirt, she watched the underside of his stubbled chin move back and forth.
For the briefest flash she wondered what it might feel like, the whiskers against her palm. Against her face. But, oh, my God, so not the time. So not okay. This was Dell. Not some random guy.
“I’m not sure there’s a statute of limitations on anything,” he said grimly. “Mia, that was a really shitty thing for me to do. I know it probably doesn’t make much difference now, but I am truly sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t. She wanted to forget about it. Forget about him and him suddenly being all nice and repentant, and, no, she didn’t want any of this. She wanted to hate him. He was making it impossible.
His mouth turned grim. “Right. Because you don’t like me anyway. I’m just the dumb guy taking off his shirt. You can say it. Heard it plenty.”
“I don’t not like you and I don’t think you’re dumb.” Mia squeezed her eyes shut. What a stupid thing to say. To admit. He was the enemy. Stealing her customers. Mia shook her head. How did she get to be on a dance floor in a bar dancing with the guy she was trying to beat in sales? Could she possibly get any dumber?
Just as Kenzie had accused her of, and Dad and Anna and Cara had backed up. She was a softie. Any sob story had her sobbing right along with the teller, sympathizing.
But this was Dell. Her enemy. Her only enemy. She didn’t need to feel guilty or assuage his guilt, either. “Look, I wish you’d keep your shirt on and stop stealing my female customers, but I don’t not like you.” Yeah, that helped. Why didn’t she just say, “I don’t not like you” fifty more times so he really got the message? Why didn’t she just lean right up against him and really show him?
The tap on Mia’s shoulder almost made her jump, it was so startling. Cara was grinning, practically intertwined like a pretzel with Kevin.
“Hey, Kevin’s going to give me a ride home.”
“Oh, uh, okay.”
“Keep an eye on her for me, Dell,” Cara said with a wink.
“Catch you another time, man.” Kevin offered Dell a goofy grin as Cara pulled him toward the door.
Mia looked back at Dell, realized her hand was still in his. He considered her for a second before speaking. “You, uh, need a ride home? Or I could buy you another drink.”
Mia reminded herself it was pity or guilt over high school or eight million other reasons beyond Dell Wainwright wanting to spend a few extra minutes with her. It was none of the reasons she wanted to spend more time with him, and she could really not afford to want to spend more time with him. “No. No, I have my truck. You should head home. All that stuff to prove, remember?”
He grinned. “Right.” Finally, finally, he released her hand, and she made sure to put more space between them.
“Bye,” she offered lamely.
“See you Saturday, Mia.”
She nodded, turned and tried not to scurry out of the bar like a frightened animal. She looked back briefly to see Dell watching her go. Swallowing down the weird suspicion that he’d been checking out her ass, Mia let herself break into a jog once she got to the dark parking lot.
This was the absolute last time she ever let Cara talk her into anything.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOUCANMARCH right back out of here, because I do not forgive you.”
Dell stared at Kenzie, curled up on his old bed, a laptop on her lap. What had once been sparse and filled with camo and John Deere decor was now all pink and sparkles and girl.
Even Kenzie’s computer was pink.
She was, and always had been, a bit of a foreign object to him, but he hated when she was mad at him. Usually because she made him pay, but also because on more than one occasion she was his partner in crime.
Also, he thought his reaction to catching his baby sister making out in the barn with some guy was pretty tame. What he’d really like to have done was tie Jacob Masterson to a tree and shoot him with a BB gun.
“You know I’m looking out for you, right?”
“I can handle myself, thank you very much. Please don’t act all pious as if you weren’t doing way worse at my age. Charlie can give me that lecture. Not you.”
“What do you think is ‘way worse’—nope, never mind. Don’t answer that. You should be focusing on getting into a good school.” Not some idiot with a penis.
Kenzie snorted. “Did you and Charlie swap bodies?”
“No, I—”
“Have never lectured me before. Do not start. I will not be held responsible for what I do to you.” She slid off the bed, all grace and condescension. “The men in this family need to realize the women do not need to be told what to do. Being far superior to the three of you lunkheads arguing all the time. All because you can’t just accept that people are different.”
He hadn’t ever lectured her before. Usually they were too busy pulling pranks on Charlie or the like. But he was starting to see what his wayward youth had created, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t follow in his crap footsteps.
She shouldn’t have to fight to do what she loved, and he trusted no man when it came to his baby sister.
As for being one of the three lunkheads who couldn’t accept they were different... “I’d like to accept it. Surely you know that.”
Some of her flip teenage know-it-allness slipped. “Okay, you’re the least lunkheadiest.”
“Thanks.”
Charlie appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. “Mom told me to come get you two. Dinner is ready.”
Kenzie shared a look with Dell. “Poor perfect Charlie. What a chore.”
Charlie’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Kenzie said in a singsongy voice, waltzing past him and down the stairs.
Charlie frowned after her, then turned his frown to Dell. “Aren’t you two a little old to be ganging up on me?”
“Ganging up on you? How could we gang up on the infallible?” Before Charlie could speak, Dell pressed on. “Give her a lecture on guys, would you? She’s not listening to me, but since you’re the paragon of virtue, she says she’ll listen to you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, so do I. It’s worth a shot. They were not just kissing in that damn barn.”
Charlie grimaced. “She’s a smart girl.”
“She is, but Jacob is a dipshit and Rylie got knocked up. I don’t want her to be next. Not that she’d listen to me tell her that.”
“It is a bit of a miracle you don’t have any accidental progeny wandering around.”
“Is it any wonder Kenzie and I gang up on you when you say such sweet things to us?”
“I’m pretty sure you started it.”
“Now who sounds like a kid?”
Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t come up here to bicker with you.” He scratched a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “I just wanted to warn you that Dad is going to bring up the developer stuff.”
Dell swore.
“I know you don’t agree with it and I know you want to argue with him, and I even get why. But it’s a family dinner, and maybe you could let it go. This once.”
“Let it go?”
“Yes. I’m not saying you have to agree, just don’t argue. Mom asked—”
“Maybe Mom should do her own asking. You don’t have to always be stepping in for them, Charlie. Last time I checked they could fight their own battles. And you’re over thirty. You could stop acting as though their opinion on everything matters.”
“And you are getting rather close to thirty to still be acting like a child.”
They faced off for a few minutes, and it wasn’t the kind of face-off he enjoyed, as with Mia. No, this was all tension and bad feelings, and he wondered if anything would ever change. Or would it keep getting worse? Until there was nothing left.
“I don’t want to argue. I don’t enjoy this. But I love it too much to let it go. To sit down and be the dutiful son. It isn’t what I want, Charlie. I am not you.”
“Because that is truly the worst thing you could ever be?”
“No. Because it isn’t me. It doesn’t make you wrong or bad. It only means I can’t be something I’m not. I can’t pretend. And I won’t pretend this place doesn’t mean everything to me.”
“More than your family?”
“Maybe a piece of land can’t call you worthless, ever think of that?”
“I never—”
But Dell wasn’t interested in hearing what Charlie never said. Maybe he’d never said worthless, but they did their level best to make Dell feel it. So Dell went downstairs and sat at the dinner table with a smile plastered on his face, and every time Dad hinted around about developing, Dell shoved a bite of mashed potatoes in his mouth.
It wasn’t any use, though. Family dinner was filled with tension, even more than usual. Charlie escaped the minute it was over, under the guise of business—because his business was so much more important. Kenzie had disappeared to do homework, taking Mom with her.
So it was just him and Dad and pie, and the inevitable.
“We’d make a good chunk of change going with a developer,” Dad said, no longer beating around the bush. “Your mom and I could retire.” Dad shoved a bite of cherry pie into his mouth.
He thought of Charlie asking him not to say anything. Not to argue. But no one was here except him and Dad, and how could he pretend this didn’t mean everything?
“You can retire by selling to me. I’ve got enough for my section of the farm right now. You sell your pig operation to Dean Coffey like he’s been asking, that’ll keep you for a few years while I make enough to buy the rest.”
Dad shook his head. “Stupid,” he said through a mouth of pie. “Why can’t you get it through your head this place is nothing? Five years down the line you’re going to be surrounded by subdivisions and malls. You can’t hold on to this. Best let it go now.”
“I don’t care what I’m surrounded by.”
“Foolish.” Dad drained the rest of his milk, slammed the glass on the table. “You ever plan on settling down and having a family?”
“Christ.” Dell shoved a hand through his hair. What would it take? He’d been having this fight for years, and he’d gotten nowhere. When did he give up?
He looked down at the table. His grandfather had built it, and just as it belonged in Mom’s dining room, Dell belonged in this place. But maybe belonging wasn’t enough.
“Well?” Dad prompted.
“I don’t know. Not my concern right now. My concern right now is that this place belongs to me.”
“You’re a damn fool, and I’m not letting you screw up by not seeing sense. I don’t want to be bailing you out in a few years’ time.”
Dell pushed away from the table, his pie half-eaten. “Tell Mom I headed home.” He tossed his napkin on the table and walked out. There was no way he was spending another hour beating his head against the brick wall of his dad’s opinion. If everyone else got to escape, so did he.
As Dell stepped out on the porch, the family’s German shepherd greeted him with a tennis ball.
Dell hurled the tennis ball, smiled as Colby ran for it, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she raced down the hill. Nothing like a dog to cheer you up after a nice, tense dinner with dear old Dad.
Was it always going to be this way? He couldn’t be someone he wasn’t and leave farming. He could go work for someone else, but then the land he’d loved his entire life would be built over into a subdivision.
With a grunt, Dell hurled the ball again, trying to take some solace in Colby’s graceful strides.
The screen door creaked open and Mom stepped out. While Dell could see the years’ toll on Dad’s face every time he looked at him, Mom was exactly the same as she was in Dell’s childhood memories. Sturdy jeans and boots, a flannel shirt folded up to the elbows. Slightly graying dark blond hair pulled back into a braid. She didn’t wrinkle or change. She was just Mom. Strong, sturdy, calming. If it wasn’t for her, he and Dad would probably have come to blows at some point.
Mom stood next to him on the top stair of the porch, watching Colby return lazily with the ball. “You can’t let your father get to you.”
“I’m not sure I have a choice.”
“Of course you do. We always have a choice. I know it’s frustrating, but he isn’t trying to be the bad guy here, Dell. He’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean his reasons aren’t right.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Dell bent down to scratch Colby’s ears. “You know Mia Pruitt?”
“Oh, sweet little Mia. Poor girl.”
Dell frowned, momentarily put off the point of bringing up Mia and how she was getting her family farm. “Why do you say that?”
“I just remember how she always seemed to be the butt of everyone’s jokes. And no one I’ve ever met is in more need of stick-up-her-ass removal than Sarah Pruitt. The woman made being a co-room mother for Kenzie’s kindergarten class a nightmare. That kind of stress from a mother can’t be good for young girls.”
“They seem fine enough.” Fine enough to dance with him and infiltrate his dreams in ways he was not at all comfortable with. “Her dad’s selling her his farm.”
“You know, it’s like that TV doctor says. Karmic debt.”
“You really need to stop watching daytime TV.” Dell took the slobbery tennis ball from Colby’s mouth. He stood and hurled it again, farther this time. “Besides, I don’t see how the two are related.”
“It’s not for you to see.”
“Mom, no offense, but sometimes that crap is a billion times more annoying than you just coming out and saying I’m a jackass.”
Mom laughed. “Maybe that’s why I do it.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Dell, honey, I know there’s a lot of tension over this.”
“I don’t understand why—”
Mom held up a hand and he stopped as he always had. “I can tell you what it’ll take to change your father’s mind. He won’t like that I told you, and he’ll still complain about you not wanting something more—which is silly, of course, because your roots are here, and what more is there?”
“Mom—”
“The point is, it’s going to take some concentrated effort. He wants to see if this farm can support you and a family, should you choose to have one. Farming is changing. New Benton is changing. He wants to see this farmers’ market and CSA give you the kind of security the pigs and corn and soybeans do. It’s not wrong he wants to know you’ll be taken care of. I want that, too.”
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