To Have And To Hold. Dawn Temple
over them, Travis. They’re not strong like you.
Those had been his mother’s final words, spoken as her hospital door closed softly behind Winston and Grant Monroe. His father and brother had been too cowardly to stay till the end.
Once he’d promised to take care of the weaker men, his mother’s thin hand had squeezed his. Gratitude had filled her eyes. Then she was gone.
Losing his mother, the one person who’d honestly loved him, had left a hole in his heart. For years, he’d tried to fill the emptiness by building Monroe Enterprises into an international conglomerate. Work had occupied his time. But the vacancy in his heart had remained. Until—Lindy.
“Damn.” Travis consulted the clock: 1:50. Stuffing his cell phone into his breast pocket, he grabbed his room key and rushed to his car, not bothering to turn off the lights before he left.
Grateful that Land’s Cross was such a small place, Travis flew south down highway 411. Ten minutes was almost enough time for the trip out to Lindy’s farm. In Atlanta, he couldn’t escape the parking garage in under ten minutes.
He’s late. Lindy seethed, pacing the front porch. Travis barged back into her life, made her wish for things she couldn’t have, then didn’t have the common courtesy to show up on time.
Angry footsteps carried her to the porch’s far corner. Before her, twenty-four hundred acres of month-old corn-stalks had begun to poke their way out of the earth. Breathing deeply, she sighed and turned, walking calmly back around the porch that circled three-quarters of her home. She leaned her hip against the railing in the opposite corner and smiled.
Unlike the comfort offered by the cornfields, this view pumped her heart rate up a notch. She’d spent the past year transforming these forty acres, molding them to fit dreams she’d harbored since childhood.
The large two-story red barn stood just as it had since her grandfather built it half a century ago. But she’d built the lean-to on the north side herself. It was the heart of Country Daze Farm. Inside, she’d host dozens of schoolchildren daily, teaching them about the care and feeding of livestock. Her hands-on approach would allow kids to gather eggs, pick cotton from its boll, and for the brave-hearted, a chance to milk a real cow.
Beyond the barn, she’d penned off a petting area. She felt that familiar twinge of excitement as she imagined the schoolchildren lavishing attention on the gentler animals.
A flash of metal caught the corner of her eye. Lindy turned away from her dreams of the future and faced her uncertain present head on. An unfamiliar luxury car rolled down the long driveway. It had to be Travis. No one in Holcombe County would spend that much money on a vehicle unless it harvested crops.
Lindy’s spine tensed. Watching the silver sedan park next to Pops’s battered old truck, she felt her anger return. Travis’s presence here threatened everything: her dreams, her home, her peace.
He stepped from the car and squinted in her direction, barely giving the farm around him a second glance. Guess he assessed the property’s value during yesterday’s visit.
Clutching her arms across her chest, tucking shaking hands into her folded elbows, she stomped back to the center of the porch, temper mounting with each step.
Arrogant fool. Did he think her grandfather had left him anything of value? He probably already had plans to mow down the crops and build a mall. As if she’d let him get his big-city developer hands on her land. No way. She’d rather sell the farm to one of those crazy emu ranchers.
Angry tears gathered behind her eyes. Blinking them back, she spun away from the well-dressed man climbing the front steps and scrambled for the front door.
But she didn’t move fast enough. Somehow, Travis got there first, grabbing the knob with one hand and resting the other on her shoulder. He touched her nowhere else, but his warmth penetrated the skin on her back. She felt wrapped up in him.
The uniquely Travis scent of cedar and sea breeze filling her senses also stirred her memory, reminding her of the many times she’d sought comfort in his embrace.
She shrugged away from his touch, but he still held the door closed, imprisoning her within his personal space.
“Lindy, I’m not the enemy.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Well, I am.”
“I don’t want you to be.”
Travis stood so close Lindy felt him flinch as her words hit their target. “Believe me, that’s painfully obvious. But until we figure out what your grandfather has done, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be by treating me like the bad guy.”
The quiet calm of his voice was hard to resist. It would be so easy to lay her burdens at his feet and allow Travis, a professional problem solver, to make all the hard decisions, deal with the unpleasantness. But taking advantage of Travis’s overdeveloped sense of duty would make her no better than his manipulating brother and father.
Nope. No matter what, she wouldn’t sacrifice her pride by taking the coward’s way out again.
Lifting her chin, she eyed him over her shoulder. “If you want to make this easier, go home. I’m sure you have pressing family business in Atlanta that needs your undivided attention.”
Another bull’s-eye. This man really brought out her inner bitch.
Lindy held her guilt in check as Travis closed his eyes for an extra long second, drawing air through his teeth. She’d seen him do that a hundred times and knew he fought his temper. When he opened his eyes, she saw he hadn’t quite won the battle.
“Like it or not, right now I have pressing family business in Land’s Cross that needs my undivided attention.” His eyes locked on to hers. Lindy felt sucked into the emotional depths of the swirling green and gold whirlpools. She saw questions there, remembered the warmth she’d often seen reflected in his eyes. The passion. At one time she’d been foolish enough to imagine love shimmering in his eyes.
The echo of tires crunching down the driveway ended their visual standoff. Travis stepped back, leaving her feeling bereft.
Chester, briefcase in hand, climbed out of his truck and approached the porch. The older man wore his poker face. Lindy’s already frazzled nerves unfurled further. Intuition assured this meeting wouldn’t end well.
Before Chester could ease the tension with social niceties, Lindy pounced. “What’s going on, Chester? What have y’all done?”
Chester blew out a frustrated breath and tightened the grip on his briefcase. “First things first. Let’s go inside and have a seat. Before we can discuss the specifics, we need to have a formal reading of the will.”
Travis finally opened the door and waved his palm, inviting her to precede him inside. Lindy crossed the threshold, feeling as though she’d stepped into a Monet painting. Everything remained recognizable, but nothing was clear.
Walking blindly past the family room, she headed down the hall and veered right, leading the way into Pops’s study. Perched on the edge of the seat farthest from the door, she forced herself not to fidget. Once the will was read, she’d know what Pops had done; she’d know exactly what she was up against.
After Travis took his seat, Chester pulled a long manila folder from his briefcase and sat behind the wide oak desk. He slipped reading glasses on his nose, opened the folder and picked up the pages inside. He began to read without preamble.
“I, Lionel Charles Lewis, being of sound mind and body…”
Those words, more than any spoken thus far, brought the truth home to Lindy. Pops was gone. She was alone. Chester’s voice droned in her ears, but like Reverend Hollister’s eulogy yesterday, Lindy couldn’t concentrate on the words.
Never-to-be-repeated scenes filled her memory. Pops tucking a frightened