at the house, will you?”
He smelled like he had yesterday—sweat, dirt and something...Jake. Great. Now her car smelled like Jake.
She drove up the gravel road.
“How was your day?”
Was there amusement in his voice? “It was fine.”
“Did you find another place to stay?”
“You know very well I didn’t.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was grinning.
“The guest cottage is still available.”
“And I’m thankful for that.”
“What about bad karma?”
She took a breath. If her parents were here with her, or Raj for that matter, they would tell her it was wrong to stay. They would remind her that she couldn’t in any way support the killing of animals. She looked ahead as the house approached.
If she didn’t stay, Jake would continue his business. Her presence was of no consequence to him, but to her it was the difference between finishing her research degree and having this month of freedom or starting all over again with a new rotation.
She chewed her lip. “Do you kill them on the premises?”
He snickered. “You’ll be happy to know we don’t. We take them to a slaughterhouse.”
She breathed out. At least that was something.
“Does that mean your karma is safe?”
She smiled. “I’m pretty sure this life is ruined, but you may have saved my next one.”
Meera pulled into the carport next to the house and turned to look at him. “Why cattle ranching?”
“Excuse me?”
“This is such a beautiful property. You could do so much with it—why do you raise cows?”
He bristled. “You ask too many questions.”
“I’m a naturally curious person, and surely it’s not a personal question. Have you always raised cattle here? I thought I saw horse stables earlier.”
He sighed. “Every generation has made its own mark on this land. My dad boarded and trained horses. Wasn’t very profitable, so I went into cattle ranching. I like cows and steers—they’re good animals, just need to be fed, and they do that mostly by themselves, grazing in the fields during warmer months. Horses need to be groomed and brushed and exercised and on and on every day. I do have a few horses left over from my father’s days. Mostly, I lend them out to the town for events or when we need to get a tractor out of a ditch.”
He stepped out of the car, then came around the other side and held the door open for her. The British were known for manners, but Raj had never held a car door open for her. She was surprised and pleased at the gentlemanly gesture.
“Do you want to come inside and have dinner? We made some delicious steak and cheese.”
There you go again. She shot him a look of daggers. He was grinning.
“Oh, just go ahead and have a good laugh at my expense.”
“What’d you expect?”
“How about some courtesy and kindness to a visitor? This is my first time in America, I’m all alone and I can barely remember which side of the road to drive on. Why must you be so unkind?”
“You do know we Americans threw the British out of the colonies.”
Aaarrghh! This was useless. Her shoulders sagged; it had been a long day and she was tired. Why was she trying so hard? This was a bad plan. Perhaps Raj was right and my expectations are too high. Tears stung her eyes, and she turned to walk to the cottage. She didn’t want to give Jake the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
She felt him grab her hand as she passed him. A jolt sizzled through her arm, and she froze, unable to explain the energy vibrating through her.
“Listen—come inside, have a cup of tea. I bought you a box of English breakfast when I went into town earlier.” His voice was soft, somewhat apologetic.
A cup of tea did sound good. She could come up with a new plan, a way to salvage her ruined trip.
As she walked into the kitchen, Meera noticed the warmth, the smell of food mixed with dish soap. Pots and pans were laid out to dry on the butcher-block counter. Noisy clanks came from a dishwasher. She ran her hand over the large wooden dining table, where everyone had been eating breakfast earlier. It was scratched and dented in several places.
“I need to sand and restain this old thing.” She looked up to see Jake’s eyes following her.
“I like it—the table has character. Mum’s kitchen is always polished, not a pot or pan in sight. Her appliances are those quiet ones that make this really eerie vibrating sound. We have a formal dining room where we eat, which feels a little sterile sometimes.” She touched the dents in the table, enjoying the sensation of the little dips in the wood. “This feels like a home.”
He smiled. “It is home, at least for the month you’re here.”
She felt as if someone had wrapped her in a warm blanket on a cold day. She liked the sound of a noisy, cozy home.
He walked into the pantry and came out holding a kettle and a box of tea bags. He handed them to her, and she noticed his lips curve shyly at her thanks. He could be a sweet man, when he wanted to be.
She went to the sink and poured water into the kettle. She would take a private moment to drink tea and think about what to do. To her surprise, Jake sat down at the table. She set the kettle to boil and pulled out two cups.
“I have a teapot somewhere, but I couldn’t find it.”
She gave him a small smile. “I can make do.” She steeped the tea in the mugs then poured some milk and a little sugar into both, the way she liked it. She handed him a cup, and he took a tentative sip.
“This isn’t half-bad. I think my mother took her tea this way.”
His mother? She wanted to ask but decided not to.
“Listen, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time, but don’t worry. The town will come around.”
She shook her head.
“That’s what I thought this morning, but I don’t think they will. Dr. Harper had me go talk to Marty Jenkins about why Derek couldn’t play. Marty just told me he hit his head all the time when he played and nothing happened to him. Then I went to see Derek’s coach, who said Derek had to toughen up and that if I didn’t clear him, he’d make sure I couldn’t show my face anywhere in Bellhaven.”
Jake’s eyes crinkled, turning an interesting shade of green.
“The icing on the cake was when I walked into a
