Promises Under the Peach Tree (Harlequin Superromance) (5 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

A
LLY
F
INLEY
’
S
HEART
skipped a beat when she spotted the only thing tying her to crappy Heartache, Tennessee. The small town was suffocating her as surely as her parents’ angry silences and the cold lack of love in her house. She had one, just one bright spot in her life these days.

Ethan Brady.

She watched him walk up the path toward her from her seat on one of the ladders used for picking. His broad shoulders rolled with his easy walk. Everything about Ethan was low-key. Fun. He never stressed about school or let a bad grade ruin his whole week, and he knew the location of every swimming hole in the county. Bonus? He was totally gorgeous.

From his light hazel eyes and ready smile to the lock of hair that tended to fall over one eye, he was the boy at school all the girls wanted. He’d never been a player, though. He told her once that too many people dated “like a recreational sport.” And while she thought she got what he meant, she worried that those kinds of confidences meant he’d lumped her in the “friends only” category forever.

“It took you long enough,” Ally called out to him as he drew closer. “I could have slept a whole hour more if I’d known you wouldn’t be here until after ten.”

She’d been in love with him since he moved to town when she was in eighth grade, but he’d never paid attention to her until last spring when they were paired up in a remedial math class. Ethan had been failing the class and she’d let her grades slip because poor marks were a way to get back at her parents for making her life hell lately.

After that class, Ethan had finally seemed aware of her existence. But he still looked at her in a “friend” way, which sucked.

“No one twisted your arm,” Ethan muttered, setting down a bushel basket beside an old wooden ladder propped up against a peach tree.

Ally tried not to let that sting. She’d stayed up late to paint her fingernails and woken before the sun rose to hang out with him today. But he was either totally uninterested or...

God, she hoped there was another explanation, even though nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just in a bad mood, but since when was Ethan ever a downer like that? She was usually the one with a black cloud hanging over her head.

“You’re right. Guess I’m starting to let the perpetual bitch-mode at my house infect me.” She zipped her lip and went to work picking some low-hanging fruit on the tree next to Ethan’s.

She’d gotten good at giving the silent treatment, a ploy her parents used so often her house was a mausoleum most of the time. But anything she said would only reveal how much she was crushing on Ethan. Besides, she could use the quiet to gather her thoughts and study him.

Lanky and tall since ninth grade, he’d gotten bigger muscles last year. His dark hair brushed his eyebrows as he worked, his profile stark and serious.

Hot.

“I had to milk my parents’ cows,” Ethan said finally, the look of disgust on his face so dark and surly that it made her laugh.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He started to pick the fruit faster, his tone sharp and aggravated.

“Sorry. Uh—that is, you don’t like milking cows?” There hadn’t been a lot of working farms in Heartache even a few years ago, but recently, some hipster families had moved into the old places to try and revive them with new, organic techniques.

Ethan’s farm was one of those. His parents gave tours of the place and spoke around the county about the “green” approach.

“It’s straight out of the Dark Ages. There are machines for that.” He chucked peaches in the basket hard enough that they were going to bruise. “And I didn’t come to this godforsaken town to be slave labor for a crappy farm where the equipment breaks down every few days.”

“Tell me about it.” At least this—anger—she could identify with. “You think
I
want to live here?”

He shrugged. “You’re a Finley. Your grandfather was the mayor for forever. Your dad runs the building-supply store. I figured you must like it well enough.”

“Do you like the same stuff the rest of your family does?”

“Good point.” He rubbed one of the peaches on his T-shirt and took a bite, a little river of juice running down his chin.

“My parents barely speak, and when they do, it’s to yell—at each other or at me. I took a crappy job sweeping up hair in a salon just to get out of the house.” Actually, the job wasn’t that bad. But the point was, she’d had to take it or she would have lost her mind being in that house. Even her grandmother had stopped inviting her over since Grandpa died, robbing Ally of that escape, too. “And then they’re surprised when I’m screwing up my senior year of school? I doubt
they’d
get an A in physics when the stress is so thick at the dinner table you can’t ask for the butter without stirring up some ancient resentment involving the butter dish.”

Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “For real?”

“True story. Swear to God.” She crossed her heart. “Apparently the dish was a wedding gift and my mom wrote all the thank-you notes. That was like...a million years ago. But she’s still pissed.”

“That sucks.” He wiped the peach juice from his chin on the back of his wrist. The scent of the fruit hung in the air, the buzz of summer bugs winding up as the day heated.

“Big-time. We were having corn on the cob that night. I didn’t even get any.” She was trying to make a joke, but he was looking off in the distance toward the barns, the only buildings you could see from the orchards.

“Less than a year and I’m out of here.” Ethan cocked his arm back and launched the peach pit into the air. He leaned one shoulder into the tree and gazed down at her with moody hazel eyes.

Ally’s heart beat faster. What would she do once he was gone? The thought of him was all that had gotten her through the worst summer of her life. The stress in her house was literally eating her from the inside out. Or so it seemed when the sores opened up on her arms from where she’d scratched them. She’d started wearing tons of friendship bracelets on each arm to hide the marks.

“I’m not waiting that long.” She blurted the words before she even considered what she was saying.

“What do you mean?” He frowned, but at least he was paying attention.

She swallowed hard. A buzzing started in her ears and it wasn’t from the bees that hummed lazily around the fruit. Her fate seemed to hang in the balance, every moment of her life just a prelude to this moment and Ethan Brady’s hazel eyes.

“I mean I’m getting out of this place soon. Like...after the Harvest Festival.” She couldn’t call herself a Finley and not help out at the Harvest Fest, a tradition her grandfather had reinstated during his long tenure as mayor of Heartache. Besides that, there was a dance at the end of the Harvest Fest and—call her shallow—she’d dreamed every year since Ethan had moved to town of getting to dance with him there. Maybe this year would be her chance.

“You’re really going to...run away?” A gleam of emotion flickered in his eyes, but she couldn’t tell if it was admiration at her plan or contempt for being childish.

“Not run away. Leaving town. Quitting school.” The more she thought about it, the more Ally liked the idea. She’d had enough of trying to please parents who were determined to be miserable no matter how hard she worked. “I’ll be eighteen in December anyway, so I can be on my own legally then. I’ve got enough credits to graduate by the end of the year.”

She sounded smart. As if she’d actually thought through this insanity. Or maybe it was Ethan’s surprised smile that was making her feel proud of herself for the plan.

“Wow.” He shook his head. “I never pictured you as the kind of girl who would ruffle the family feathers.”

Defensiveness straightened her spine.

“Is that so?” Her skin started itching and it was all she could do not to scratch.

“You just always seem so...I don’t know. Perfect, I guess. Like the kind of girl who wouldn’t get into trouble.” Ethan took a step down the ladder and then another until they stood on even ground.

Where he was still so much taller than her.

“You’re wrong, Ethan Brady.” She felt shaky all over, but in a good kind of way. He’d never been this close to her. “I wouldn’t be getting into trouble. I’d be leaving it behind.”

What could her parents do once she turned eighteen anyhow? Besides, Ethan was the one good thing in her life and if he left this town, she didn’t want to be in it.

He shook his head as if he didn’t quite believe her. That easygoing smile she’d always loved returned to his face.

“I don’t know about you, Ally,” he teased, picking up a lock of her brown hair and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

Her heart stopped.

Then started again at a jackrabbit pace.

“Maybe you ought to change that,” she challenged him, hoping it sounded as flirty as she wanted it to.

His smile widened.

Ally drew a deep breath and took a gamble.

“So...you want to come with me?”

* * *

Where were you today?

Wiping the flour off her hands onto one of Gram’s old aprons,
Nina read the text from an unknown number with a Tennessee area code. She’d been baking for hours and the kitchen currently smelled like hazelnut from the batch of Linzer torte cupcakes she’d made. Gram’s old oven was bigger than modern models, and it worked as well as Nina recalled, but she still couldn’t make nearly as many at a time as she could with professional-grade equipment.

She was just starting to reply
Who is this?
when another text popped up on her screen.

I thought you were coming to the Harvest Fest meeting?

“How does Mack have my cell-phone number?” She glanced at her grandmother who sat at the kitchen table stirring sugar into her cup of tea.

The spoon clinked against the side a few times before Gram looked up from the newspaper.

“He messaged me about an hour ago to ask for it,” Gram admitted, shifting her raised knee on the pillows Nina had stacked on a hassock for her. “He said you were supposed to be at a meeting, I think?”

Mischief sparkled in her blue eyes as she peered over the frames of her reading glasses.

Nina sighed. “I suppose you have the number for half of Heartache in that phone.”

Gram dragged her cell closer, the purple-and-pink floral case brighter than most teenagers would carry. “Can I help it that I like technology?”

“No. But you could warn me when you give people my number,” Nina grumbled as she plunked out a message for Mack into her sleek phone, the high-tech model a “business” expense purchased by her now ex-partner. The silicone case was black with the white-and-red Cupcake Romance logo.

You said you’d give me the notes.

“I’ve missed having Mack around.” Gram took her glasses off and slid the chain off them so that it dangled freely. Then, she dragged it across Taz’s head, inciting the cat to go into full-on hunter mode to chase the chain. “Even after you left, Nina, he still came by sometimes to say hello and ask if I needed anything.”

Taz practically did a backflip trying to catch the chain, and Nina smiled to see Gram having fun with her pet. No doubt it got lonely for her here.

“He likes taking care of people,” Nina admitted, setting down her phone when the timer buzzed for her latest batch of cupcakes.

In fact, Mack had liked taking care of people so much that he’d forgotten about his love for Nina when his best friend’s girlfriend had needed comforting. Not that she was bitter about it anymore. But it had hurt at the time.

“It’s more than that, and you know it. He’s a good man.” Gram laughed when Taz managed to yank the chain away completely and fought it with all his feline-might. “Did he talk you into helping out with the festival?”

“How did you guess?” Nina slid the last two trays of cupcakes into the oven and set the timer again.

“He’s a smart man with a lot of new responsibilities. You just rolled into town with a barn full of baking equipment and too many hours on your hands.” Gram shrugged. “Wild guess?”

“You’re right and I’m happy to help, Gram, but I can’t attend a bunch of meetings where people spend hours arguing about whether to use a pumpkin or a cornucopia in the festival ads. Things like that make me crazy.” When she’d started Cupcake Romance with Olivia, they’d divvied up duties according to their strengths, with Nina doing most of the work in the kitchen and Olivia being the face of the business and keeping the books.

Then again, in that instance, avoiding boring meetings hadn’t worked out so well for Nina.

“You always did prefer to keep busy,” Gram observed, retrieving the eyeglass chain from Taz and securing it back onto her glasses. “Just like your mom and dad. It was as if a whirlwind was blowing through this house when you all came to visit.”

Nina wanted to argue that she wasn’t anything like her parents, but her phone distracted her.

Notes are on their way. We volunteered you for all the jobs no one else wanted since you weren’t there to say no.

“Seriously?” Nina started typing a protest, but she punched the keys so hard with her finger that she typed more errors than anything.

Gram tugged aside the sheer curtains at the window near the table. “Were you expecting someone, love? There’s a car coming up the driveway.”

“Really? Why would he text me if he was stopping by anyhow?” Nina’s hand went automatically to the apron ties around her waist and undid them. Then, catching herself, she refastened the tie. Damn it, what did she care what she looked like?

Just because they were going to try to forgive each other for the past didn’t mean he wanted any more from her than that. She’d been wrong to flirt with him out by the barn earlier. It was as if she’d fallen into some autopilot mode, which was weird since she’d never exhibited a flirtatious side with anyone else she’d ever met.

“It’s not a
he,
” Gram clarified. “I believe it’s Scott Finley’s wife.”

Bethany? Too surprised by the unannounced visit to be embarrassed at jumping to conclusions about Mack, Nina brushed the extra flour off the apron and moved toward the door.