“When you put it like that . . . I guess I have been through a lot. I adore this town and living on the farm. I want to feel settled, but something’s holding me back. I think that something is the fear that I’ll be forced to give it all up.” More tears stream down my cheeks, and he hands me the red bandana he keeps in his back pocket.
“You’re getting the cart before the horse, Stella. I’m sorry if I’ve pushed you too hard, asking you to marry me when we’ve only known each other a short time and buying the manor house without consulting you. We don’t have to get married until you’re ready, even if that means two years from now.” He takes my hand. “If the worst happens and you lose the farm, I’ll support you if you look elsewhere for a job.”
“But Hope Springs is your home,” I say, sniffling.
“My home is with you. I would prefer to stay here, but I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“You’re too good to me, Jack. I don’t deserve you.” My heart swells with love for him. If I’m not careful, I’ll lose him. I need to suck it up and stop whining about the what-ifs. “From now on, I’m going to stop worrying so much about the future and live in the here and now. We’ve both been working so hard lately. We’ve hardly had any time together. When this party’s over, can we carve out some alone time?”
“You bet we can.” He walks his fingers up my arm. “And I have some ideas of ways to spend that time.”
19
Everett
Everett watches Presley sleeping peacefully beside him. She’s classically beautiful with a creamy complexion, elegant features, and auburn hair splayed across her pillow. What does she see in a deadbeat like him? She deserves better. To have a chance at a future with her, he needs to give her his best self. And he can’t do that on a bartender’s salary. Especially not in a bar with no customers.
When she stirs, Everett takes her in his arms and makes love to her until she screams out in pleasure. Sex with Presley is different than anything he’s experienced before. Even with his long-term girlfriend from his early twenties whom he was certain he would one day marry. His desire for Presley is consuming. She’s under his skin, deep inside of him. This must be the real deal.
They lounge in bed for a long time afterward. When he finally tears himself away, he returns to his apartment to shower and dress before going to the library. He greets Rose, the librarian, with a peck on her cheek that brings a scarlet blush to her face. When he signs onto a computer, his heart jumps at the sight of an email from Wade Newman in his inbox. His excitement over hearing from Wade overpowers his concern that there are no emails from his mom.
Clicking open the email, he reads Wade’s brief message.
Sorry about your old man. Hope he feels better soon. I am absolutely still interested in your work. When would be a good time for a phone conversation?
On impulse, Everett types out a response. Because of hectic schedule, better for me to call you. Name a time, and I’ll make it happen.
He signs off the computer and leaves the library, winking at Rose on his way out. He’s halfway back to the inn when he realizes his mistake. What if Wade returns his email right away and wants to speak with him today? Why didn’t he accept Stella’s offer of a computer for the bar?
The reservation office houses two desks with computers. One belongs to Naomi, but the other is free for any employee to use. When he arrives at the inn, the guest service agents are busy with patrons, and the office is empty. He quickly accesses his email, but there is no word from either Wade or his mom. When he returns to the office a second time around noon, the staff computer isn’t working. He taps on the keyboard and jiggles the mouse, but the monitor remains black. Poking his head out of his office, he confirms the guest agents are still tied up and sits down at Naomi’s computer, accessing his email. He has one message from Wade. None from his mom. Wade provides a contact number and asks that Everett call him at nine o’clock, Nashville time, on Friday morning. He scrawls Wade’s number on Naomi’s sticky note pad and exits his email account.
He doesn’t hear her come in, and he’s startled to look up and find Naomi looming over him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, bug-eyed. “Why are you using my computer?”
Everett shoots up out of the chair. “My dad is sick and I’m waiting for an email from my mom.”
Hand on hip, she says, “Your fake mom who lives in North Dakota, or your real mom in Georgia?” Naomi doesn’t express any concern for Everett’s father’s health.
“Give me a break, Naomi. I’m not in the mood.”
When he tries to brush past her, she takes hold of his shirt. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you using my computer? You know it’s strictly off limits.”
He nods at the staff computer. “Something’s wrong with that one. I couldn’t get it to turn on.”
Naomi goes over to the computer and clicks a button on the back of the monitor. The computer comes to life. “It helps if you power it on.”
Everett shrugs. “Sorry. I suck at electronics.”
Naomi steps so close to him, he can smell garlic and onions
