Feeling more relaxed by the peaceful scene outside her windows, Addie sighed and turned her truck onto the dust-covered road to town. She didn’t mind the drive; it was beautiful, and this time of year, there were all kinds of crops and things to see along the way. Mostly tall stalks of corn and huge, swaying fields of dark green Timothy hay grew on either side of the road beyond the fences and irrigation ditches that hugged the roadside. Green, leafy shrubs or trees grew in patches here and there and she passed a few other farm buildings along the way.
Even though she’d grown up in the suburbs of Seattle, she’d always had a country-girl’s heart. Her plan to move over the mountains and find a way to make both of her dreams work—farming and writing—had never been far from her mind. This year, with a little coaxing from a friend in town, she’d finally done just that.
She’d become a freelance writer after college, working on some ghost writing and even managed a few books of her own. She now wrote for an assortment of magazines and online sites all over the world, as well as putting out another novel tow or three times a year. All of it allowed her the freedom to work from anywhere. She’d done well enough to scrape together the funds to buy her rundown farm with a little left over. It had been a good deal and in a great location; she just hadn’t realized how unfriendly most of the town’s folk would be toward an outsider.
She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, making another mental note to get the truck’s air conditioning fixed. It was hot and dusty, but with the windows rolled down, the loose tendrils of her hair furled in the wind, slapping and sticking to her neck and face. Too late again, she wished she’d thought to bring a hat for this trip. Maybe I should just start leaving one in the truck.
She turned right at the next lonely intersection and had just shifted into third gear when she saw another truck parked on the side of the road ahead. The truck was about ten years older than hers—which at times seemed older than dirt—and had its fair share of dents and scraps in its blue exterior. The hood was up and huge, white clouds of steam billowed out from the engine.
She slowed down to see if they needed some assistance, but the driver’s seat was empty and no one was in sight. She hadn’t seen anyone on her way here, which meant the driver must be hoofing it back to town.
“They’ve got a long walk,” she muttered. The highway entrance was about a mile back the way she’d come, and the center of town, where the stores and service stations were located, was another several miles the other way.
Shifting gears and speeding up, Addie went back to her thoughts and was surprised by the first thing that popped into her head.
If Jared had listened, I wouldn’t be in this mess…
She shook her head. Where had that stupid thought come from? Even if he had been an adrenaline-junkie, it’s not as if Jared wanted to die. They’d met during her final year of college, snowboarding on the slopes of Stevens Pass, and that look she’d come to expect from men never entered his eyes. He’d been handsome, funny, reckless, and a little wild, and she’d been instantly smitten. His death two years later had left Addie’s heart in pieces, but she’d picked them up, locked them away, and gone on with her life.
She used to think she missed Jared because she had loved him so much, but lately, she’d begun to wonder.
Though capable of taking care of herself, she missed the feeling of a man’s hard body beside her at night, of having someone to lean on, a partner.
She pressed her lips together as she stared out the truck’s dirty windshield.
Right now, I’d settle for a decent man’s hard, warm body to keep me company tonight, she thought wryly, then tilted her head. Okay, maybe that’s a little much. It’s not as if she’d ever had men knocking down her door—attention from men like Ted Ballinger excluded. She wasn’t as fit as some women and she’d never be a swimsuit model, but she did okay when she put forth the effort. But that was the problem… She always had to make the effort, and she hadn’t felt up to that effort for some time. Men never chased after her like all the romantic stories on TV or in books. She was just the girl-next-door who usually ended up being a friend rather than a lover. It was depressing.
Her shoulders drooped. She was tired of being alone. Tired of dealing with the never-ending problems that began when she’d refused the advances of her closest neighbor Mark Harden. He’d seemed like a nice, solid guy, but…
She sighed. Right now, she was just plain tired.
She shook her head to clear it of her difficulties with Mark and sat a little taller. She had more important things to think about than Mark Harden. Such as how to find workers for the farm. She barely knew anyone here, having just moved in about three months ago, but she did have one good friend. Veta, her best friend from college, had settled here and opened a café with her sister
