Page 3 of All Because I Found You

“So that means you’ll come with me to the barn?”

“That means we’re done here.”

Raelyn gasped. Usually, her upbeat personality made people warm to her instantly. This guy was a hard one to crack.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and stepped back to close the door. When he did so, she caught a proper glimpse of him, and the familiar blue of his eyes unlocked a memory from over a decade ago. Fifteen-year-old Raelyn desperate to get a glimpse of Morgan Bay’s high school star quarterback and the boy she had the biggest crush on… until tragedy struck, and he vanished.

“Ryder Douglas? Is it really you?”

Chapter 2

His name on this pretty woman’s tongue had him reacting before thinking. He slammed the door in her face and stepped away from the door. She knew who he was, which begged the question… Who was she? Not that it would be a far cry to think someone would remember him. It was a small town after all, and what had happened… well, people didn’t just forget.

It was why he avoided venturing out during the day, sticking to grocery shopping at night and only for the things he couldn’t have delivered. He’d been able to keep a low profile for eleven years, and the last thing he wanted was the town to know he was here.

Some people knew, of course, but they kindly had kept his whereabouts to themselves. No easy task in a small town that could win an Olympic gold in gossip.

A tiny part of him felt bad for shutting the door in the woman’s face. His mother would surely be disappointed in him. She didn’t raise him that way. Always hold the door for a lady, say please and thank you, and mind your manners. She wasn’t here to correct him, though he wouldn’t count her out for watching over him wherever she may be. It was the only solace he had in a rather lonely existence.

He turned from the door and headed to the kitchen, where he was making jam from the fresh strawberries the farmhands had picked yesterday. Luckily, he hadn’t lost many crops during the hurricane. It was a small blessing.

He sat at the kitchen table and grabbed the melon baller—Mom’s go-to kitchen tool. Fitting, since it was her recipe. Scooping the top off, he then cut the rest of the strawberry into pieces, dropping them into a bucket.

The process was painstakingly long, but it helped pass the time as well as gave him purpose. Mom’s jam had been a staple in the community before her death, and he felt it was his duty to keep it alive and well. A lot had changed since that day, but the farm stand was still running and selling produce and Mom’s jams, thanks to Gene, a family friend, who took over the business and kept tight reins.

Ryder got lost in the cutting, and by the time his bowl was filled, an hour had gone. He halved a lemon, squeezing the fresh juice over the strawberries before adding the sugar and leaving it to macerate.

Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he stood and stretched his back. It still bothered him occasionally, despite how much he’d worked on strengthening his core.

He made his way toward the living room and stopped in his tracks when his eyes caught movement on the porch. The girl from earlier rocked back and forth in his chair. Her head tilted toward the sun, her black sunglasses covering her eyes and her dark brown hair spilling over her shoulders.

Had she been here the whole time?

Not knowing what to do, he headed to the kitchen, hoping she’d leave. He needed to wait an hour for the strawberries, though, and usually he spent that time going out to the sunflower field and cutting a new batch to put for sale at the farm stand.

He would not let some woman stop him from his daily routine. Slipping into his boots, he headed out the door.

The woman jolted to her feet, practically knocking the rocking chair right off the damn porch.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, but he kept walking, not even bothering to throw a glance in her direction. “Wait!” she called after him, her voice getting closer as she repeated the command over and over.

He saw the shoes on her feet. There was no way in hell she’d be able to keep up with him once he got to the field. He kept walking, and when he was halfway to the end of the field, surrounded by the flowers and bees, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cutting sheers.

“I was wondering if you’d ever stop.”

The voice had him spinning around. Shock wracked his body as the woman stood in front of him, hands on her shapely hips and a pout on her plump lips. Her brown eyes drifted up to his face, and her mouth parted slightly, enough for him to know his hair had revealed more than he cared for.

He bent his head forward, letting the dark auburn waves fall back over his cheek. “What do you want?” His voice clipped out in almost a growl, but it didn’t seem to deter the brunette.

“I told you what I wanted.”

“And I told you no.”

“I know, but see, there’s a problem with that. I can’t take no as an answer.”

“You do realize this is private property and you are trespassing?” Maybe the fear of breaking the law would get her to get back in her damn car and leave.

“Is it?”

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