Page 8 of Pining for You

“Did I mention Bradley’s oldest sister is expecting a baby, her third, or that his brother’s wife is expecting again—this will be their fourth child. His parents are interested to see how long Bradley’s going to hold off before he gives in and gives them children. After he gets married, of course.”

I stole a glance at the big guy standing quietly beside me. His beard couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips, similar to my own. We both knew Mrs. B was matchmaking. Which was better than her telling Brad about my patchy past, I supposed.

"Chloe here is single too. Did I mention that?"

My face heated as Marilyn’s statement changed the situation from amusing to even more awkward. Like I was looking for another relationship. Ever. "I finished with what I could do here, so I'll leave the rest of the tree work to the professionals."

Brad apparently wasn't feeling the awkwardness because he kept chatting. "My boss said your father wants us to go out to the Tamblin place next. Have you checked it out yet?”

Shit. I’d forgotten Dad had asked me to check over there too. I’d intended to go right after checking in on Marilyn but I wasn’t about to admit that I’d let this delicious stranger distract me. “That’s next on my list.”

He pursed his lips, nodded, and with another glance around the yard, said, “Let me check the ash here, see if there’s anything I need to do right away, and then we can head over there together. That way I can make up my quotes for your dad for both places.”

I acknowledged deep inside myself that I was very interested in finding out more about Brad. Not for a long-term relationship. I didn’t do those anymore. But I wasn’t against hooking up for the occasional fling.

I'm sure he had suggested we join forces at the Tamblin place out of practicality and not a similar interest in me. Given the ease with which Marilyn shared all my secrets earlier, he'd probably put two and two together with all the gossip about me around town. If he hadn’t, a quick surf of the internet would give him more dirt than truth. No way was he interested, even if he had held my hand a little too long.

"You can have that second cup of coffee while you wait," Mrs. B suggested, her eyes twinkling as she glanced between us. "How about I fix you up a to-go cup, Bradley."

"Thanks, Mrs. B," Brad said. Why did it feel like he was agreeing with more than an offer of a cup of coffee? "Chloe, I shouldn't be long. My assistant, Nash, will be along soon, and then we can go."

"All right," I said. “I’ll go check on the chicken coop and see if it’s a simple fix.”

I wandered out back, putting physical space, and the house, between us. Brad was attractive, and I liked the idea of someone who wasn’t intimidated by my height or my ability with a chain saw. My body heated at the thought of him making love to me, but at the end of the night, he’d walk away. Or I would.

No way would a guy ten years younger than me would want to stick around with a forty-three-year-old about-to-be-unemployed woman. Which made him perfect fling material, though I was surprised at the disappointment filling me.

4

BRAD

After an awkward silence while I tried to decide how Marilyn had convinced me to let Chloe drive, or why it mattered at all, I hit on a topic that should work for both of us.

"It’s a pity they let the park go," I mentioned as Chloe drove her half-ton toward Ramblin’ Tamblin’s, an abandoned campground at the north end of the island, a little under a mile from the Bordon place. "It's such a great location. "

It was a lovely spot, positioned on a finger of land that jutted out into the lake in its own private mini-peninsula. I assessed the birches and aspens, scattered amongst Douglas firs, Sitka spruce, a few ancient poplars. John was right. Some of these trees needed serious attention, but damn, the area was perfect for camping.

"According to my dad, it’s because the Tamblins expected their sons to take it over when they got too old, but the boys didn’t want any part of it, or Port Paxton, once they graduated. "

"I get that. My brother and two of my sisters couldn’t wait to move away either. They couldn’t stand small-town life." Something in her tone told me she understood the Tamblin kids—had she felt a similar pressure to take over one of her family’s businesses? Was that why she’d come back? "The location does make it a prime target for the big storms we've been getting."

"Climate change." Chloe sighed. "As for the Tamblins, I swear the only upkeep they do now is…"

"When they call us for tree service," I finished, as if we'd planned it.

She laughed. "For the record, Mr. Tamblin didn’t phone you, my dad did.” She stopped talking while she maneuvered her truck around a fallen branch. “Back in 80s, when those huge RVs became popular, he had people begging him to update the campground for them. But it meant updating the electrics and the roads to handle them, along with the sewage system.”

“All of which costs big money and the owner wasn’t willing to part with a cent.” I knew the story; after all, I’d grown up around here too. "That’s shortsighted for a businessman. Nobody wants to rough camp anymore.”

“Including me." Her grin lit up her face and took my breath away.

"I hear you,” I managed to choke out. “That’s why I’m an arborist, not a lumberjack. I couldn’t handle working in those logging camps.” Or clear-cutting land the way the big corporations did these days. I was about to ask her what she did when not helping her father, but Marilyn had mentioned she was about to be out of job, so that might be a touchy point. “How come I haven’t run into you before now? Especially since we do so much work with your father.”

Her smile changed to a frown as if a storm cloud had covered the sun. “As Marilyn said, I just moved back last year and I haven’t had much time to socialize.”

Really touchy subject. As much as I wanted to ask, from where, I decided not to. “I’m surprised your father hasn’t considered buying out the Tamblins and setting it up as his own business. Or finding a buyer for them and pitching himself as the property manager to the new owners.”

“Dad’s got a good head for business, but he knows his limits. Promotion and the new-fangled social media that would be required to establish a new venture isn’t his thing. Even with my business degree, I’d probably be more of a burden on him than a help.” Her lips thinned, and I suspected there was a story there, but her walls were now up and I wasn’t about to poke what could turn out to be a porcupine.

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