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“Walk.”
“You can’t walk home from here.”
“Sure I can. It’s only two miles.” Angry color refilled her cheeks as she once more turned her back on him.
He watched in amazement as she took off again, this time cutting across the grassy lawn. The rattle of a diesel engine sounded behind Travis. He stepped to the shoulder as Warfield’s truck rolled to a stop next to him.
“Told you she was stubborn, boy. She decides she’s gonna walk, you can bet your bottom dollar she’ll walk all the way. Leastways, she’s sure not gonna take a ride from the enemy.”
“Enemy?”
“You and me, boy. I know how that girl’s mind works. Right about now, she figures we’re in cahoots, trying to take the farm from her. Till she figures out different, I’d steer clear if I were you. Besides, Lindy’ll never get in that fancy car of yours.”
Travis’s brow inched up. “Why’s that?”
“On account of her panic attacks, of course. She barely tolerates pickups. Gettin’ in a regular car’s totally out of the question.” Warfield lifted a cell phone and dialed, his lips turning up in a calculating smile. “I’ll call Danny Robertson. He drives a big Dodge four-by-four. He’ll take care of our Lindy. Don’t you worry.”
Panic attacks. The words echoed long after the older man drove off. Travis stood rooted to the road, watching Lindy cut through the cemetery, his eyes glued to the mass of bobbing blond curls. He didn’t blink until she disappeared over a hill.
Panic attacks. Guilt slammed him with a vicious force. No wonder she hated him. She’d lost so much because of him, but he never would’ve envisioned Lindy being afraid of cars.
Travis raked his fingers through his hair, still staring in the direction Lindy had disappeared. He could understand her fears. Hell, he’d battled his own nerves the first few times back behind the wheel. And, ironically, he hadn’t been injured during the accident. But Lindy had. For the second time in her life she’d survived a fatal car crash, while those she loved had not.
He’d never forget the anguish in her eyes, the pain in her voice, the night she told him about the sleeping trucker who’d crossed a highway center line and crushed her family’s station wagon. Lindy had been trapped in the car with her lifeless parents for four hours, waiting for help to arrive.
And then last year, on a rainy night, he and Lindy were arguing—again—as they drove home from a business party he’d dragged her to. A flash of red caught his attention. He swerved to miss the oncoming minivan. His Lexus spun out. The passenger side slammed into a light pole, breaking Lindy’s arm, killing their unborn son, destroying their marriage.
He rubbed the ache over his heart as he walked back to his car. Almost a year later, Travis could still see the heartbreak on Lindy’s face as she huddled in the front seat of his crumpled car, blood dripping from the gash on her forehead, her arm clamped across her abdomen, her thighs locked tightly together.
He’d failed her. No matter how badly he wanted it, he didn’t deserve Lindy’s forgiveness. And she didn’t deserve all the misery he’d caused in her life.
No matter what it took, he would find a way to make up for all that he’d taken from her. He owed her that much. And he always paid his debts.
Chapter Two
When Travis awoke the next day, bright sunshine filled his rented room. He wedged his head off the feather pillow and squinted at the clock: 12:37.
Crap, I’m running late.
After the funeral yesterday, he’d driven aimlessly for hours, making so many laps around Land’s Cross he now knew every bump in every road. He’d finally quit trying to outrun his thoughts and returned to the boardinghouse, took a cold shower and flopped into bed. Then stared at the popcorn-textured ceiling until exhaustion dragged him under around dawn.
Forcing himself to sit, elbows propped on his naked thighs, he buried his aching head in his hands. The rural silence rang in his ears, competing with the throbbing beat of his pulse. Fingers pressed against his closed eyelids, he listened to the birds singing outside.
What the devil are they so happy about?
Oh, yeah. They didn’t have to face a distrusting wife and a scheming attorney in an hour.
Groaning, he stood and headed for the shower, hoping the Sheltering Arms didn’t skimp on the water pressure. Twisting from the waist, he tried to unkink the knots threaded into his spine. He thought longingly of his king-size mattress at home.
His feet stilled as Lindy’s words filled his memory. Being tied to man who’d rather fold himself onto a bed too short and too narrow to be the slightest bit comfortable than share a king-size bed with me.
That lumpy old guest room bed was the last place on earth he’d wanted to be. He’d ached to lie beside his wife, to comfort her, love her. But he’d been afraid of her reaction, worried she wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. And after the way he’d failed her, he certainly wouldn’t have blamed her.
Fighting off the memories, Travis showered and shaved. He had to admit, being named in Lionel Lewis’s will had piqued his curiosity. What was the old man up to?
He’d find out soon enough. Gathering his keys and wallet, Travis picked up his cell phone. Amazingly he’d forgotten to turn it back on after the funeral. Probably the first time in years he’d been unreachable for more than an hour.
He switched the phone on. The voice mail icon flashed, indicating a full mailbox. Before he could retrieve his messages, the phone vibrated.
“Monroe.”
“Travis, thank God.”
Travis heard the anxiety in his brother’s voice. He was in trouble. Again. “Who’d you screw with this time, Grant?”
“Whoa, man, don’t take my head off. I was beginning to get worried. I must’ve called you at least a dozen times yesterday, but you never answered.” He sounded concerned, but Travis knew better. The only person Grant ever worried about was Grant.
“I turned my phone off.”
“Holy crap. She must be a knockout.”
“What are you talking about?” Travis paced the small confines of his hotel room, wishing he’d waited another two minutes to turn his phone back on.
“Well, if your phone’s off that must mean you’ve finally put an end to your monklike ways. So, who is she?”
Angry blue eyes flashed through Travis’s memory. “God, Grant. Are you ever going to grow up?”
“God, Travis, are you ever going to lighten up?”
Travis wrenched loose the tie he’d just knotted and roughly freed his top button. Everything about his life was constricting these days. “I don’t have time to play games. What kind of trouble are you in?”
“Not trouble, exactly.”
“What then, exactly?”
“Dad fixed me up with the spinster daughter of some business associate. Promised her old man I’d take her to the Spring Fling at the Country Club tonight.”
“Which business associate?”
“Burt Tanner.”
The leather strap squeezing Travis’s brain tightened. Had Winston Monroe lost his mind? A blind date between Grant and their banker’s only daughter?
“Grant, what does your social life have to do with me?”
“I need you to take the wallflower. I’ve got a hot date with your old flame.”
Grant hooking up with Julia Wellborne? Could plague and pestilence be far behind?
“Did you make this date before or after you found out about your date with Tanner’s daughter?”
“What does that matter?”
“After. That figures, you selfish jerk.”
Grant tried to interrupt, but Travis spoke over him.
“You don’t have a choice, Grant. If you stand Susan Tanner up, her father’s gonna be pissed. Monroe Enterprises needs his financial support to complete the Downtown Renovation Project.”
“I don’t need a lecture.” Petulance filled Grant’s voice, proving his words a lie. “I need you take the dog to the party.”
“What you need is to learn that your actions have consequences. If you screw this up, you’ll blow a ten-million-dollar deal. A loss like that’ll devastate Monroe Enterprises, and if the company goes under, not only will you lose your free ride, but our employees will be out of work.”
Travis pinched the bridge of his nose. Hundreds of people in danger of losing their livelihoods. He couldn’t allow Grant’s selfishness to destroy all those innocent lives.
“Spare me the St. Travis crap.” Grant’s words remained hostile, but the resignation in his tone assured Travis his brother wouldn’t stand Susan up. But the poor girl was in for the worst date of her life. If he were in Atlanta, Travis knew he’d probably step in, just to save her the embarrassment.
“For once in your sorry life, just do the right thing.” Travis severed the connection. Taking a deep breath, he tried to rein in his temper. He thought about the unsigned resignation letter in his desk. One of these days, he was going to sign the damn thing. Then Grant would have to learn to cover his own ass.
He scraped his free hand through his hair and sighed.
Watch 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…”
