What Might Have Been (12 page)

However, that bubbling euphoria was severely dampened when she saw the reminder note waiting for her on the computer keyboard. She'd forgotten all about Luke's financial paperwork.

For the sale of the orchard.

She was an idiot. No, that wasn't precisely true. She was a romantic fool who'd let her body overrule her mind once again. She could build all the castles in the sky she wanted, it wasn't going to change the fact that this time with Luke was fleeting.

He'd be gone before the ink on the sale documents could dry.

Sitting alongside the sticky note were the college applications that she'd been avoiding for weeks. No more. It was time to face the truth and put her plan into action.

It took her an hour to complete three of the applications. Stamping and addressing their envelopes, she set them to the side and changed her focus.

Half an hour later, she finished pulling together the financial reports Luke had asked for. It made her slightly upset to look at them…to see what she and his grandparents had done over the past eight years, what he was throwing away. They were profitable. Actually, they were a successful enterprise. Agriculture wasn't exactly the
easiest way to earn a living, but they'd made it work for them. They'd spent years building a reputation for high quality.

None of that mattered to Luke. Two days ago she'd told herself she didn't care what he did.

Today she had to admit she'd lied. Then and now. She did care. She didn't want to see him give up a heritage that one day he'd miss. She didn't want to see him make a decision he'd regret.

But there was nothing she could do about it. She held no delusions about what was going to happen. As much as last night had meant to her—and, she hoped, to him—he wouldn't change the course that he'd set. He was selling, leaving.

Sadness coursed through her as she closed the program and reached for the pages spitting out onto the printer beside her.

Stacking them together and grabbing the envelopes, she headed for the kitchen. In her current mood she wasn't sure if she wanted to see him there or not.

It turned out, she didn't have to decide. Instead of Luke, Gran sat in the kitchen. She stared out the window at the orchard. Her eyes held a faraway sadness that compounded Ainsley's own melancholy.

“Gran?”

She turned to take Ainsley in, a motion that seemed to take much longer than it should. As if, while she wanted to participate in the world around her, the temptation to sit there staring out that window and ignoring everything was too great.

“Ainsley. Good morning. I'm sorry I didn't make coffee…” She trailed off, leaving the end of her statement
but I didn't feel like doing it
unsaid. That was so unlike the Gran she'd always known.

“Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.”

Dropping the papers onto the counter, Ainsley noticed another stack sitting in a neat pile at the far edge.

She stepped over, a quick glance telling her they were Luke's. For the Realtor. She added hers to the top, knowing that when he finally did come down he'd see them immediately.

With a snap in her step, she returned to the main counter area and quickly pulled together a breakfast of pumpkin spice muffins and coffee.

Sitting down across from Gran, Ainsley was happy to see her eyes more focused. That faraway look scared her. She was afraid that one day Gran just wouldn't come back.

“Gran? I have to run into town. Can you tell Luke that I've left the information he needed with his papers? He asked me to email them to the Realtor but he didn't leave me her address.”

Gran nodded, the ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. “Certainly, dear.”

Ainsley narrowed her eyes, but Gran definitely seemed more coherent. She'd follow up later but right now she needed to get to town and back. Preferably before Luke realized she was gone.

Dropping her applications into the mailbox had somehow become the most important task in her day. However,
while she was out, and if he was hell-bent on selling, perhaps she could have some influence over who ended up with the property.

L
UKE STIRRED IN BED,
reaching out even half-asleep and searching the covers beside him. For what? Who?

His eyes popped open. Ainsley.

Who wasn't there.

Her side of the bed was rumpled. However, the entire bed looked as if a tornado had passed over it, twisting the covers into a lump. It certainly hadn't bothered him last night.

He'd had one need last night. Ainsley. He'd been consumed with the desire to imprint his body and soul onto every square inch of her skin, to leave no doubt that she was his.

And despite everything, he wanted to do it again. Right now. Which made him a little grumpy as he rolled from the bed alone.

Where was she?

Throwing on the first clothes he could find, he headed down the hallway to her room. It, too, was empty, the bed undisturbed.

That soothed the anxious sensation that churned in his stomach. At least she hadn't slipped from his bed to her own sometime in the wee hours of the morning. That idea did not sit well with him—that while he was apparently becoming more and more obsessed with her, she could dismiss him so easily.

No, the authoritative businessman he'd become took issue with the loss of control and power in that scenario.

However, apparently that was not what had happened so…

He backtracked down the hallway and headed to the main floor.

He could hear sounds in the kitchen so that's where he looked first, a smile of anticipation spreading across his face.

Finding Gran at the sink was not what he'd expected. As much as it helped to see her doing the mundane chore she'd handled every night during his childhood, she wasn't Ainsley.

“Morning, Gran.”

She turned to look at him, a smile lifting up one corner of her mouth, as if she didn't have the emotions to fully back it up.

“Luke. Would you like some breakfast, dear?”

“No, no. I'll just grab a cup of coffee.” He reached for a mug and poured from the pot on the counter. Turning to lean against the worn Formica counter, he crossed his arms and took his first hot, invigorating sip.

“Have you seen Ainsley?”

“Yes, dear.” Reaching over, Gran patted his arm with a still-damp hand, leaving four thin strips of water against the dark gray of his shirt. “As a matter of fact, she asked me to let you know she emailed those numbers to the Realtor before she went into town.”

He let that sink in for a second. She'd been busy this morning. “Do you know where she was going?”

“She didn't say.”

“I wish she'd waited for me. I have to run into town later. We could have gone together.” With a shrug, Luke turned to press a quick kiss to Gran's papery thin cheek. “I'm going to go call into the office first, though. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not a thing.” This time when she smiled up at him the expression seemed a little easier, a little fuller. “You're a good boy, Luke.”

While her compliment warmed him from the inside out, it also made him slightly uneasy—Gran seemed to be living in her own world lately, and he wondered if he was missing something important.

 

G
RAN OPENED THE DOOR
beneath the sink, pulling the trash can out on the little runners Ainsley had installed for them several years ago. She was such a sweet girl. Always finding ways to help, to make life easier.

It broke Gran's heart to see her so sad after everything she'd been through. If there was a girl who deserved a little happiness, it was Ainsley. Gran understood the pain of losing a child too early… But she'd had her Brian to get her through. Ainsley had no one.

No one except Luke.

They were so perfect together. How could they not see?

Shaking her head, Gran picked up the last plate from breakfast and scraped the remains of her picked-apart muffin into the trash…on top of the papers Ainsley had prepared for Luke's Realtor.

Some people just needed a little help.

 

A
INSLEY RETURNED FROM
running errands and posting her applications to find Luke gone. He wasn't in the house and she didn't figure that he'd gone outside to wander the orchard alone. Every time he'd wanted to see the farm he'd taken her with him—he needed her expertise. So she assumed he'd also headed into town on some errand.

The house was quiet. Too quiet after days of tension—both sexual and antagonistic—between them. She almost missed the charged energy now that he was gone.

She poked her head into Gran's room only to discover that she was taking a nap.

Going back downstairs to the office, she settled into the business of running the orchard. While she was honored to do it, the time she'd spent making arrangements for Pops had put her severely behind on the day-to-day operation of running a business.

She'd just gotten started when a loud knock on the front door startled her. They almost never had visitors, not to the farmhouse anyway.

Opening the door, she studied the three people standing on her front porch. Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid, a couple
that she knew rather well because they owned a peach farm in the area. And a tall woman with a slick blond bob, blood-red fingernails and a tailored gray pantsuit that most certainly did not belong on the farm.

Ainsley focused on the woman. “Can I help you?”

“We're meeting Mr. Collier.”

“I'm sorry, he's not here right now.”

The frown that puckered the blonde's lips didn't even budge the smooth plane of her forehead. “But we have an appointment to view the farm.”

Suddenly the pieces all fell into place. She should have realized immediately. Ainsley turned her gaze to the Kincaids and smiled. If someone had to purchase the property they were as good as any. She knew they could handle the orchard, would probably keep their workers on and wouldn't mind if Ainsley wanted to stop by and visit every now and then.

The question, though, was where was Luke? It was totally out of character for him to miss something like this. While he hadn't needed to use his phone often since he'd been here, she'd heard his BlackBerry calendar beep at him off and on, reminding him of responsibilities back home that he would miss.

He had the technology and wasn't afraid to use it to keep his schedule in line. And even if he ultimately ignored the reminder, he always glanced at the screen to make sure it was something he could dismiss.

She had two choices. Tell them they'd need to reschedule, or conduct the walk-through herself. She was probably the best person to show them around anyway.
Luke was still learning the finer details of running the orchard.

Joining the trio on the porch, Ainsley did what her conscience dictated. “I'll tell you what, why don't I show you around? Luke's probably just running later in town than he expected.”

The experience was bittersweet. On one hand, she enjoyed showing off what they'd built here, especially to fellow farmers who would appreciate the changes and upgrades they'd made. But on the other hand, she was showing what had become her home to someone else who wanted to own it. The orchard was a piece of her life that she wasn't ready to give up. Admitting that was difficult because there was nothing she could do to change the situation.

She'd always tackled problems head-on. This was one that had no visible solution. She didn't like the loss of control.

“We've upgraded a lot of the equipment over the past few years. Most everything is current. We have six employees on staff year-round and of course we hire seasonal workers for thinning and picking.”

Mr. Kincaid stopped at the packing shed and watched as they prepared the harvest for shipment to the client. She could tell as he inspected their equipment, the procedures and their workers, that he knew what he was doing. But then she'd already known that.

He asked her several questions, including some about the current staff. “Have you asked them if they're willing to stay?”

She looked at him and knew that she had to be completely honest. “Until I opened the door, I didn't realize who the interested buyers were, Fred. If I'd known I might have asked, but I'm not involved in the actual sale.”

The pity that crossed his face almost made her angry. “I'm sorry this is happening, Ainsley. Everyone wishes Brian had left the farm to you.”

In everything that had happened, in all the times she'd wished things could be different, owning the orchard had never been her desire. “I don't, Fred, but I appreciate the thought. The farm belongs with a Collier, and I'm not part of the family.”

“The hell you aren't.”

She'd never heard the other man, soft-spoken and particular, use that kind of language before. He was a throwback to a generation where men simply didn't swear in the presence of a lady.

She smiled, and said, “Thanks. But this is the way things needed to be. If you buy, I'll be glad to know the farm's in good hands.”

“Could I convince you to stay on?”

It was a possibility she hadn't even considered. However, it didn't take her long to know what her answer would be. “Thank you, but no. It's time for me to move on, too.” There were too many memories here.

She couldn't stay. Not this time. Not without Luke.

They finished their tour back at the front porch of the house. She offered them a glass of lemonade but they declined. They'd already seen the house many times over
the years, and didn't really care about the home anyway. The Kincaids were interested in the trees.

Ainsley waved goodbye as they drove away.

Luke's red Jag, the shiny paint dulled by a thin coat of dust, sat in the driveway again. Wherever he'd gone, he was now back.

And he hadn't bothered to come and find her.

A frown playing around her lips, she turned into the house to find him but got only as far as the study. She could hear him behind the closed door, the timbre of his voice and the escalating tightness of his tone suggesting that whomever he was talking to, Luke was not happy.

She thought about interrupting him for a second but changed her mind when his words blasted through the door.

“Damn it!”

She backed away, deciding there was plenty of time to tell him that he'd missed a meeting with a potential buyer. It sounded as if he had enough problems to deal with for now.

He finally appeared in the kitchen just as they were finishing dinner preparations; his pinched face and shuttered eyes confirmed her suspicions. Half of her wanted to ask, wanted to offer him an ear for whatever the problem was. The other half secretly hoped it had something to do with the sale of the orchard.

However, she wasn't holding her breath.

She settled for “Is everything okay?”

He glanced at her for the first time since he'd entered the room and it was amazing. She watched as the
gathering cloud of his frustration and anger melted away, like sugar into hot water.

He crossed to her, laid his palm against the small of her back and leaned down to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

She was startled and a little embarrassed—Gran sat not three feet away at the table. Luke pulled back, looking down into her face with the same sweet smile on his lips and said, “Fine now.”

Ainsley's heart kicked beneath her ribs.

Turning back to the simmering pot on the stove, she smiled over her shoulder at him. “Glad I could help.” But beneath the surface, countless emotions bubbled just as fiercely as the food she was cooking.

He was sending her mixed signals and she did not have the experience to handle them. Not from Luke.

She glanced at Gran to gauge her reaction. But the older woman seemed to be unaware of what was happening right in front of her, her eyes focused on something only she could see.

“Oh, the Kincaids and your Realtor stopped by this afternoon to tour the orchard.”

“What?” Luke stopped halfway to sitting down in his seat at the table. If she hadn't been so surprised at the shocked expression on his face, the way his body was half-folded in on itself, suspended in midair, might have been humorous. Her stomach tightened with apprehension instead.

“They said they had an appointment with you today. You were in town so I showed them around.”

Storm clouds gathered in his eyes once again, turning the bright green to a tumultuous green-gray. He dropped into the waiting chair, the wood rocking back with the force of his descent.

“Damn it,” he muttered, sounding more irritated than outraged this time.

“Thanks for covering for me. Her message must have gotten lost in the shuffle. At least I hope that's what happened.” His hands bracketed his face, his fingers massaging from his temples to the bridge of his nose. He folded his hands over his face, but his muffled words were still audible. “Ever have one of those days? Nothing seems to be going right.”

She resisted the urge to reach for him, to lay her hand across his and tell him everything would be okay. Instead she offered him a chance to share the burden of his bad day. “Anything I can do to help?”

Lifting his fingers from his face, he looked at her from between his open palms. “No.”

That was it. No explanation. No thanks for the offer. Nothing else. Just a simple, concise, no-wiggle-room no.

She'd slept in his bed twice now. In less than a week she'd gone from being lonely to sharing her life with Luke. Again. Whether she'd planned on it or not.

They shared a house, a breakfast table and a bed. What they didn't share was anything important. That bothered her more than she was ready to admit, because admitting it meant she wanted more from him. More from their reunion than she had any right to expect.

Unfortunately, she couldn't seem to stop herself from wanting it anyway.

As she sat down across from Luke and watched him wolf down the food she'd prepared, Ainsley could see herself doing this every night for the rest of her life. Eight years ago, she would have been content with that. With simply being in the sphere of Luke's world.