She's Far From Hollywood. Jo McNally
you, but dinner’s ready.” He couldn’t resist giving her a jab. “And real farmers don’t sleep while the sun’s still up.”
She stood, her back ramrod straight. In flat sandals and skin-tight black leggings, she was only a few inches shorter than him. What little she lacked in height, she made up for in spirit.
“Don’t give me that crap.” Her lips curled in anger. “I’ve worked my butt off since I got here. Now excuse me, but I’m going to see if Nell needs my help with anything. I didn’t know we were having company tonight, but it figures you wouldn’t turn down a free meal.” She brushed past him with her head held high, looking like freaking royalty as she slammed the screen door closed behind her.
Well...damn...
It seemed as if all their conversations ended with her storming off mad as a hornet. But she sure put on a fine show while doing it. He followed her into the house in bemused silence.
Dinner was more relaxed than he’d expected. Bree and Nell had obviously become close in their short time together, and he finally got a glimpse of Bree’s softer side as she interacted with his neighbor. Nell told him about Bree’s lessons in farming, laughing as she described Bree’s first few failed attempts at pushing a wheelbarrow full of horse manure up the ramp to be dumped behind the barn.
“I swear, I think this woman filled every wheelbarrow load two or three times as they kept spilling, but she didn’t give up! And then she went into the pigpen and found out how good Spot is at the sneak attack. Bree ended up sitting waist-deep in the mud, surrounded by squealing piglets! My God, the look on her face...”
And that was when it happened. Bree’s cheeks blushed pink under the freckles, and she laughed out loud. Her green eyes were sparkling and clear, just like the sound of her laughter. She rested her hand on Nell’s arm.
“Nell, stop it! Pretty soon you’ll be telling him about me getting stepped on by that stupid horse, and then I’ll be forced to tell him what happened when you tried to fold a napkin into a swan. It looked more like a phallic symbol!” The two women were both laughing hysterically now, with Nell wiping tears from her eyes. Bree glanced across the table at him, and for once, she didn’t put her armor up. She just smiled at him as her laughter faded into giggles.
Brianna Mathews was a drop-dead gorgeous woman when she smiled, and damned if he wasn’t attracted to her. The feeling was unexpected and unsettling. He hadn’t been attracted to a woman in a long time. It was more than lust or the need to scratch a long-overdue itch. He wanted to know this woman. He sat back and frowned in confusion. Why now? And definitely why her?
She saw his dark expression and stopped midgiggle, as if remembering she wasn’t supposed to be smiling at him. There was a split second of awkward silence before Nell jumped in.
“Emily told me you were in beauty pageants, Bree. What got you started in that?”
She clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about herself, but she opened up under Nell’s gentle nudging. She told Nell—she was back to avoiding looking his way—that she entered her first teen pageant at her mom’s request. Her mother was ill, and Bree wanted to please her. She made it sound like money was tight, and she’d started doing more pageants to earn scholarship money and prizes. Her mom died on Bree’s eighteenth birthday, and Cole couldn’t miss the shadow of pain that crossed her face when she said that. Half his meal was cooling on his plate, and he didn’t care. He was too absorbed with her story and the swirl of emotions in her eyes as she spoke.
She quit the pageants, but then some pageant coach tracked her down and convinced her to try for Miss California. She won that and was a runner-up in the national competition.
“So is that where you picked up this stalker of yours?” Nell’s question was said kindly and with concern, but the effect on Bree was immediate. Color drained from her face, and her fork clattered noisily against her plate.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry...”
“No, Nell, it’s okay to ask. After all, that’s why I’m here.” Her smile was tight and forced, but he had to give her credit for trying to make Nell feel better. “That didn’t start until recently. Unfortunately, Hollywood breeds weirdos. At first it was just letters in the mail signed ‘Your Loving Husband,’ and I knew they weren’t from my ex. The letters referred to specific events or outfits, making it clear that he was watching me. He said I needed to remember that my appearance reflected on him, too. He started texting photos of me that he’d taken with a cell phone, and he’d give me his opinion on whether my clothing was ‘appropriate.’ I changed my number, but he had the new one in just a matter of days and started again as if nothing had happened. He said I should start acting more—” she glanced across the table at him “—more like a lady.” Cole winced, remembering his comment to her a few nights ago. “There were odd phone calls that I figured were from him. It was only in the past month or so that I felt someone might be watching my house.”
“Your house? While you were there?” Nell put her hand on Bree’s. Cole’s own hands were clenched tightly.
She frowned. “I thought I was imagining it at first, because it was just a feeling that sometimes I wasn’t alone. But he confirmed it when he sent a picture of me inside the house, taken from outdoors. He was looking through the windows somehow. And then, after Nikki Fitzgerald...”
“Oh, Lord, that poor young thing,” Nell said.
Cole was really regretting not looking up that damned name, because he had no idea why the heavy silence fell on the table. As if she felt the weight of it, Bree suddenly stood and started grabbing plates.
“I’ve forgotten my manners, Nell. This is hardly appropriate dinner conversation. Let me get that dessert.”
While they enjoyed Nell’s blueberry pie and talked about the farm, he glanced at Nell and was surprised to find her staring straight at him. She raised an eyebrow and he realized he was leaning forward, toward Bree, as if he was hanging on every word. He frowned and pushed himself back into the chair.
“I’d better get to work on that fence before it gets dark.” His chair scraped across the tile floor as he rose abruptly to his feet. “Thanks for dinner, Nell. It was great, as always.”
She had an odd smile on her face, as if she was holding back some sort of joke. She nodded at him and winked. What the hell was that about?
“Come on, Bree, let’s take care of the kitchen while Cole does his chores.”
Bree didn’t answer, but she collected the dessert plates and followed Nell. Maggie trotted behind him out the back door as he headed to the barn for a toolbox and a fresh fence board. Old Shep started to join them then thought better of it and stretched out on the back steps to the house.
Twenty minutes later Cole slid the newly sawed board into place at shoulder height and leaned against it, holding it against the post while he fished for two more nails in his pocket. The board started to slip and he cursed as it dropped. But it was caught and lifted back into place. He looked up to see Bree on the other side of the fence, holding up the board and giving him a crooked grin.
“Farmers help each other, right?”
He looked at her long fingers supporting the rough-cut 1x8. Most of her fingernails were chipped and devoid of polish. Three nails were broken, one nearly to the quick. There was an angry blister on her palm. His eyebrows rose. Nell wasn’t bluffing when she said Bree had been working hard. But instead of complimenting her, he fell back to his standard snarl.
“You should have gloves on. You’ll be full of slivers.” He lifted the hammer.
“Yeah. You’re welcome. Glad to help.” Sarcasm dripped from those pretty lips. Wait. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her lips. Those full, rose-colored lips that had haunted his sleep every night this week. The lips he was staring at right this minute. The lips that were now moving, speaking to him.
“Take your time, Cole. I’ll stand here all night if you need me to.”