Bull, scrabbled against the floorboards beside him, trying to stand despite his arthritic hips. Troy sank back down and put a hand on the dog’s back. “It’s okay, boy. Relax.”
He watched Angelica’s slow, reluctant walk toward his house. Why she’d applied to be his assistant, he didn’t know. And why he’d agreed to talk to her was an even bigger puzzle.
She’d avoided him for the past seven years, ever since she’d jilted him with a handwritten letter and disappeared not only from his life, but from the state. A surge of the old bitterness rose in him, and he clenched his fists. Humiliation. Embarrassment. And worse, a broken heart and shattered faith that had never fully recovered.
She’d arrived in her grandfather’s truck, but the old man had no use for him or any of his family, so why had he brought her out here for her interview? And why wasn’t he standing guard with a shotgun? In fact, given the old man’s reputation for thrift, he’d probably use the very same shotgun with which he’d ordered Troy off his hardscrabble farm seven years ago.
Troy had come looking for explanations about why Angelica had left town. Where she was. What her letter had meant. How she was surviving; whether she was okay.
The old man had raved at him, gone back into the past feud between their families over the miserable acre of land he called a farm. That acre had rapidly gone to seed, as had Angelica’s grandfather, and a short while later he’d moved into the Senior Towers.
In a way, the old man had been abandoned, too, by the granddaughter he’d helped to raise. Fair warning. No matter how sweet she seemed, no matter what promises she made, she was a runner. Disloyal. Not to be counted on.
As Angelica approached, Troy studied her. She was way thinner than the curvy little thing she’d been at twenty-one. Her black hair, once shiny and flowing down her back in waves, was now captured in a careless bun. She wore baggy jeans and a loose, dusty-red T-shirt.
But with her full lips and almond-shaped eyes and coppery bronze skin, she still glowed like an exotic flower in the middle of a plain midwestern cornfield. And doggone it if his heart didn’t leap out of his chest to see her.
“Down, boy,” Troy ordered Bull—or maybe himself—as he pushed up into a standing position and hopped over to get his crutches.
His movements must have caught the attention of Lou Ann Miller, and now she hobbled out the front screen door.
She pointed a spatula at him. “You get back in that chair.”
“You get back in that kitchen.” He narrowed his eyes at the woman who’d practically raised him. “This is something I have to do alone. And standing up.”
“If you fall down those steps, you’ll have to hire yet another helper, and you’ve barely got the charm to keep me.” She put her hands on bony hips. “I expect you to treat that girl decent. What I hear, she’s been through a lot.”
Curiosity tugged at him. People in town were too kind to tell him the latest gossip about Angelica. They danced around the subject, sparing his ego and his feelings.
What had Angelica been through? How had it affected her?
The idea that she’d suffered or been hurt plucked at the chords of his heart, remnants of a time he’d have moved mountains to protect her and care for her. She’d had such a hard time growing up, and it had made him feel ten feet tall that she’d chosen him to help her escape her rough past.
Women weren’t the only ones who liked stories of knights in shining armor. Lots of men wanted to be heroes as well, and Angelica was the kind of woman who could bring out the heroic side of a guy.
At least for a while. He swallowed down his questions and the bad taste in his mouth and forced a lightness he didn’t feel into his tone. “Who says I won’t treat her well? She’s the only person who’s applied for the job. I’d better.” Looking at his cast, he could only shake his head. What an idiot he’d been to try to fix the barn roof by himself, all because he didn’t want to ask anyone for help.
“I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll know if you raise your voice,” Lou Ann warned, pointing the spatula at him again.
He hopped to the door and held it for her. Partly to urge her inside, and partly to catch her if she stumbled. She was seventy-five if she was a day, and despite her high energy and general bossiness, he felt protective.
Not that he’d be much help if she fell, with this broken leg.
She rolled her eyes and walked inside, shaking her head.
When he turned back, Angelica was about ten feet away from the front porch. She’d stopped and was watching him. Eyes huge, wide, wary. From here, he could see the dark circles under them.
Unwanted concern nudged at him. She looked as though she hadn’t slept, hadn’t been eating right. Her clothes were worn, suggesting poverty. And the flirty sparkle in her eyes, the one that had kept all the farm boys buying gallons of lemonade from her concession stand at the county fair...that was completely gone.
She looked defeated. At the end of her rope.
What had happened to her?
Their mutual sizing-up stare-fest lasted way too long, and then he beckoned her forward. “Come on up. I’m afraid I can’t greet you properly with this bum leg.”
She trotted up the stairs, belying his impression that she was beaten down. “Was that Lou Ann Miller?”
“It was.” He felt an illogical urge to step closer to her, which he ascribed to the fact that he didn’t get out much and didn’t meet many women. “She runs my life.”
“Miss Lou Ann!” Angelica called through the screen door, seemingly determined to ignore Troy. “Haven’t seen you in ages!”
Lou Ann, who must have been directly inside, hurried back out.
Angelica’s face broke into a smile as she pulled the older woman into a gentle hug. “It’s so nice to see you! How’s Caleb?”
Troy drummed his fingers on the handle of his crutch. Caleb was Lou Ann’s grandson, who’d been in Angelica’s grade in school, and whom Angelica had dated before the two of them had gotten together. He was just one of the many members of Angelica’s fan club back then, and Troy, with his young-guy pride and testosterone, had been crazy jealous of all of them.
Maybe with good reason.
“He’s fine, fine. Got two young boys.” Lou Ann held Angelica’s shoulders and studied her. “You’re way too thin. I’ll bring out some cookies.” She glared at Troy. “They’re not for you, so don’t you go eating all of them.”
And then she was gone and it was just the two of them.
* * *
Angelica studied the man she’d been so madly in love with seven years ago.
He was as handsome as ever, despite the cast on his leg and the two-day ragged beard on his chin. His shoulders were still impossibly broad, but now there were tiny wrinkles beside his eyes, and his short haircut didn’t conceal the fact that his hairline was a little higher than it used to be. The hand he held out to her was huge.
