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.
