Just Want Somebody to Love (Bella Warren Book 1) (16 page)

He leaned on his cart and lifted a bottle of water. “Pretty sure if you can handle it, I can.”

Well all right then. If he wanted to go balls to the walls on his first day out, then let him have at it. Can’t say she didn’t warn him. So perfect. “I think it’s time to find out what’s for lunch.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ll know when I eat it. Unless there’s food out, I avoid the kitchen.”

“Best place in the house.”

“To eat. I don’t cook.”

“Not even a little?”

“Nope. I don’t even do grilled cheese the right way. I toast two pieces of bread, put some cheese between them and microwave it a few seconds.”

A thick swallow passed down his throat. “How do you survive?”

“Kara cooks all the time, so that works great for me. When she’s not here, I’m a regular at The Curve.” The only time Whitney had it tough was the few years between when her mom moved to Texas and before Kara came back home.

“Not too bad of a set up you’ve managed for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

As he lowered and tucked a few empties on the bottom, the sun hugged his body in all the right ways. The best part was how the light highlighted the sculpted muscles of his arms.

Nice.

By the time he slammed the post-hole digger in the ground a few dozen times, she’d bet his arms would be sculpted and throbbing. Sweating, too. Oh, boy. Her throat just went all tight. Drooling was likely on the horizon.

He stood and maneuvered the cart around. “What are we planting after lunch?”

“Nothing. We have some building to do.” And by we, she of course meant him.

His brow lifted. “Now you’ve got me curious.”

They walked around the bend to where the houses were visible again. “We’re building scarecrows.”

“Scarecrows?”

She nodded. “We used to have them. We undress them because rats and stuff get in the clothes and hay over the winter. We can’t leave them standing because then we can’t plow. We stack them to the side. That year we had a burn pile and accidently burned the wrong one.”

“That sucks.”

“Basically, yeah. Anyway, it’s been a while since we had them, and you’re giving extra help. We haven’t had them since Dad died and Mom wants to see them again.” She flopped this on thick. She knew. She didn’t care. “In addition to you being here to help me, Kara is also back to help Mom. Mom can dress them while I still get to help plant and have time for doing the books. It’s kind of unique timing we haven’t had before.”

“I’ve never seen scarecrows on a farm this size.”

Him picking up on that had crossed her mind. “There’s nothing we do that can be considered normal.” Some honesty rose to the top.

He chuckled and glanced to the cart. “I can see that.”

The sun setting couldn’t have come fast enough. Justin set the cursed post-hole diggers he’d been handed some six hours ago against the wall outside the greenhouse. He’d let the poles go, but his fingers were stuck in their gripped position with pain radiating from his knuckles. He wasn’t sure there was any skin left on his palms even though he’d worn gloves. This morning had been good. He’d been half asleep through the first part, but managed. The day looked up when he got Whitney by his side before lunch.

Afternoon was different. She directed him to a pile of lumber on a trailer and gave instructions to his descent into hell. Take a left at the post-hole diggers, right at the lumber that needed to be dragged across the field, and after screwing the posts together, the gates of hell were straight ahead. Tomorrow was going to hurt.

A cool breeze against his cheeks was a relief from the sun. He weighed a couple pairs of gloves down with a shovel to make sure they weren’t blown across the field. He wasn’t up for chasing anything. There were two things he wanted more than anything right now: a hot shower and a big supper.

Make that three. That bottle of ibuprofen Whitney mentioned sounded better and better.

Wade dropped a handful of shovels in with the rest. “Thanks for the help today and for staying so long. No one stays as long as I do.”

“No problem. Whitney said I could leave when I wanted, but I didn’t have much else to do.” Just had to keep thinking about his restaurant. Wade sounded impressed he’d hung in for the day. That had to score him some points in Whitney’s eyes. He just needed to get through this and before he knew it, they’d be back to the good parts that happened in her bedroom. And eventually his.

Wade turned to look at the fields and winced. “Looks like a cemetery with all those crosses.”

Justin followed his gaze and laughed. He’d been so focused on one after another, he hadn’t looked at it as a whole. With the way every ounce of his body ached, he was pretty sure he needed to be buried under one of those crosses.

“Supper should be about ready. You’re welcome to join us.”

He was half afraid that if he sat, he wouldn’t be able to get back up. Time to grin and bear it because he hadn’t seen near enough of Whitney today. He had months of dating to cram into weeks. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Wade led him to the other house on the property. He stomped his feet on the concrete and then stepped in. A group of women stood around a state of the art chef’s kitchen. Six burner gas stove. Two sets of double ovens in the wall. A commercial size refrigerator-freezer combo and counters for miles. He itched to get behind that stove and see what she could do.

Not what he was here for, though, and focused his attention on the woman perched on a barstool. She’d changed from oversized baggy pants into tight cotton shorts gripping her thighs. Instead of big boots, black flip-flops dangled from her toes. By the mud missing on her cheek, she’d also showered. That night and the sweet scent he’d discovered between her breasts flared through him. What sore hands? What achy body? Her. Him. He was ready.

A woman in her mid-fifties smiled his way as she moved around the counter. “Hi, there. You caught us right in a mess, I’m afraid. I’m Jana. Whitney’s mom.”

He tipped his head at the women. “Justin.”

The other woman had been with Whitney the night he’d met her. Dr. Pepper and vanilla vodka if he wasn’t mistaken. She looked to Wade and her nose drew up. Wrinkles creased between her eyes. “You need a shower if you’re going to sit next to me at supper.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wade left a kiss on her mouth. “I invited Justin to supper.” And with that, he headed out the kitchen.

Once Wade was gone, the woman looked to him. Concern, and he was pretty sure disappointment, filled her eyes. “We didn’t really meet before. I’m Kara.”

He pointed at her. “Cookie and cupcake maker?”

Red tinted her cheeks. “That’s me.”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

Jana lifted her shoulder. “I taught her everything she knows.”

Excellent. One compliment, two pleased looks sent his way. He’d be an idiot to think everyone here didn’t know he’d left town, but so far, he liked his odds of soothing any ruffled feathers he might have caused. Now if he could bring Whitney around. Smelling like this wasn’t the way to do it. “Do you mind if I borrow your bathroom to wash?”

“Let me show you the way.” Whitney slid off the chair, and his tongue nearly went with her. He’d thought part of the reason her shorts were so short was because she was sitting. Not the case. That light pink cotton had to be the shortest he’d ever seen in his life.

He followed and tripped over his own feet, catching the attention of the women who’d been focused on their dough. Their brows went up and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. Still growing into these feet, I guess.”

Her mom only smiled, and he got his feet under control and followed Whitney out. Her tight gray shirt fit to the top of her ass. His hands curled into the shape that fit her hips. She was an arm’s length away, but he kept his hands to himself.

He’d like to have some sort of acknowledgement that she’d forgiven him for last time before he got his hands on her. She pushed a door open, flicked the lights, and revealed a small bathroom. He didn’t step inside it just yet. “I was getting fond of the mud and grass all over you. I’m not sure what to think now.”

A smile cracked out of her with a laugh as she shook her head. “You look like hell and you still flirt.”

“I’m a natural born charmer, but don’t go throw yourself in the mud on my behalf. Dirt or no dirt, I never forget all the ways a woman can look pretty.” He started to lean on the wall over her head, but stopped himself before smearing dirt from his shoulder across the white paint.

Red took her cheeks all over again. “You are a mess.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. But with the added part about being adorable too.”

She laughed again, and good, that’s what he liked to see on her. He moved into the bathroom and scrubbed a week’s worth of dirt from his hands. “What’s for dinner?”

“Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, turnip greens, and biscuits.”

Worth attempting to sit for. “Nice. Do we get dessert?”

She frowned. “I think cobbler. I saw her with her cobbler pan.”

“She has a cobbler pan?”

“She has a pan for everything. I always wash the dishes, so unless she’s trying something new, I can narrow the food options by the dishes.”

“That’s an interesting talent.”

“I think so.” She tossed him a rag. “I have to go perform my other talent now—setting the table.”

He finished cleaning and walked through the house to the kitchen. The dough was gone from the counter, the pans too. Jana pulled plates from a cabinet, and he walked over. “I’ll get them.”

“Oh, thank you. The table is just through there. All we’re waiting on is bread, and then we’ll eat.”

He followed her pointing finger and stepped into a big dining room. Whitney followed Kara around the table, putting down forks as Kara placed napkins. Her mom was in and out, bringing dishes to the table. He got in line and set plates with each chair, and by the time they were finished, everyone was in the room and reaching for a seat.

He sat and a tight pull of pain jerked on his back and legs. He managed to hold in any groaning and went right to fixing his plate as her family did around him. If he didn’t eat and get out of this chair soon, they would have to leave him here all night.

Jana lowered her plate. “I understand you’re in town visiting Brandon?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not sure how long, but at least a few weeks.”

“We appreciate your help, but be sure to spend some time with him too.”

“Since he’s out so late every evening, he sleeps through most of the morning. We’re on opposite schedules. I’ll see him this evening for a little while.”

“I bet he is up late every evening,” Jana commented. “Poor thing, he likes to make sure the bar is run as he wants and won’t hire any help.”

Poor thing, Justin’s ass. His brother wouldn’t hire help because he wanted to be alone. Considering his talk about needing to see family and shit, it didn’t make much sense. “Pretty much.”

“What do you do, Justin?” Wade picked a biscuit off the top of a basket.

“I co-own a chain of restaurants with Brandon. We started them together years ago, but I handle the majority of the details now.”

“Oh really?” Jana perked up. “That’s so interesting. What’s the name of it?”

“Rawlings Steakhouse.”

The table went quiet and everyone stopped eating and stared his way. The ball of pride that swelled in his chest filled like it did every time he got this reaction. People never expected that a couple thirty-somethings could own a popular restaurant.

Jana glanced to Whitney. “Isn’t that the one Jep and Sara send beef to?”

Whitney glanced around the table. “I’m not sure.”

He glanced to Whitney, hoping for an explanation. Their crowning glory on the menu was the steak because he and Brandon visited every cattle farm looking for the best organic beef they could find. That farm was J&S.

Jana gestured at him with her fork. “You use J&S for your beef?”

“That’s right.”

“I thought so.”

Whitney smiled his way. “Uncle Jep and Aunt Sara are partners in J&S. Dad’s brother and sister took over the cattle farm from Grandma and Grandpa after they retired.”

Oh, damn. Blindsided. He kept his grip loose on his fork. He didn’t care how busy Brandon was when he got back to the bar. Customers were going to have to wait while he explained. “My brother and I went over to their farm in north Texas years ago, and they were the best by a landslide.”

Jana beamed. “Yes, they are.”

So one brother and sister ended up with a money-making cattle ranch and the other brother got this old farm. Sounded like a story there.

Jana pointed at him with her fork. “Since you’re spending all that money on beef from Jep and Sara, you should look at investing in better vegetables and quit shipping in that other mess.”

“Momma,” Whitney answered.

He reached under the table and patted Whitney’s thigh to subtly let her know it was okay. Her leg jerked under his hand in the same moment he froze. He hadn’t meant to touch her. Not like that. Not so intimately this soon. He cleared his throat, kept his hand to himself, and focused on the question. “We looked into that a while back. It’s hard to find farms close enough to the restaurant to make it work. Or they ship to a distributor and then we get it from them. The lag between shipping makes it even more difficult to get crisp, fresh produce.”

“Look into WW Farms. They ship direct to grocery stores for local produce. They don’t use a distributor, but I know the owners, and I bet they would be willing to work out an arrangement.”

He searched his mental Rolodex for that farm, but couldn’t place it. If they weren’t shipping to a distributor, they wouldn’t have been on his radar. “I’m not familiar with them. If you have their contact, I would be interested. Customers knowing we have a direct line to someone American-made is part of our brand.”

Jana pointed at Whitney and then to Wade across the table from him.

Whitney smiled. “I’m the second W. Wade is the first. Mom and dad started with this farm and eventually took over Grandma and Grandpa’s few corn fields for ethanol. When Wade and I inherited everything, we wanted to do more and expanded into organic farming with the boom of public demand. We didn’t want the come-out-and-spend-a-day with your family atmosphere Chester Farms is known as to be associated with the commercial crops. The size of those farms can’t function with people showing up to pick, so we operate as WW Farms.”