Page 9 of A Little More

Cameron nodded. “Good. Someone should have let you know how hard it was.”

His dad had died from cancer, the stress from running the farm without Nash accelerating his death. No one needed to remind Nash that leaving wasn’t an option now. He owed it to his dad, to himself, to make the farm a success. The new country store would allow him to live out his dream as well.

It was crooked.Lexi stared at Charlie’s tie. One inch to the right. Again. She’d already straightened it once after his failed attempt. They’d managed to make it to the beautiful French restaurant, order drinks, and his tie had cocked back to the right.

“And then, after they begged me to take them on as a client, they still don’t have their tax documents together.” Charlie took a sip of his wine. “Can you imagine how I reacted? We’re past the deadline.”

Lexi focused on his face. Not the tie. “I assume you were happy you won’t have to file their taxes?” Really. A crooked tie didn’t mean anything.

He leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes focused on her. A soft, weak color compared to Nash’s. “No. I filed an extension to save them some money for filing late.”

He continued to explain the consequences of filing a tax return late. Not the best date conversation, but it was what grown-ups talked about. Taxes and withholdings. Politics. Although she would never bring up the President again. That had brought a flush to Charlie’s typically pale face.

And then her mind had skipped right back to Nash. The one place she’d tried to lead it away from by accepting this date with Charlie. The ploy to trick her brain into substituting Charlie for Nash hadn’t worked. Now, all she’d done is compare him to Nash.

He lost in every category she’d assessed. Except for the fact, she wouldn’t lose her job for dating Charlie.

“What project are you working on?” Charlie asked with what seemed to be genuine interest. “Still having to deal with that redneck I met?”

And there was the judgment. “He owns his own businesses. Several. He’s hardly a redneck.”

“Of course.” He took a bite of his salad. “Have you had to go visit the site?”

“I went down a couple days ago and am going down again Tuesday for three or four days. He wanted the building up and running at the end of the summer.”

“Just don’t work so hard that you don’t have time for me.” He winked and toasted her with his glass, alone, before taking a sip.

She barely managed a smile. Why had her friends insisted they’d be a good match? She’d been flattered when Charlie first asked her out. He was attractive. Successful. Career driven.

But he wouldn’t take her through the mud just to make her smile.

“Charlie.” She waited until he finished picking the olives out of his salad and looked up. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Crossword puzzles. You?”

Her heart deflated when she realized her answer. “Same.” Her shoulders sagged under the disappointment. How lame could she get at thirty-four? “Wait.” She sat up straight. “I do like looking at old houses online, seeing how I could fix them up or researching various types of house styles.”

“You’re not planning on moving into residential, are you? Commercial architecture is your strong suit. I’ve seen your buildings, Lexi. They’re amazing. I’m not sure you could make the same level of earnings in renovations.” When he started into the topic of profit margins, Lexi zoned out.

But what if she was amazing renovating old homes, too? Working with her hands and imagination to bring something back to life. Walking into an old room and picturing how happy the first occupants had been. What they would have seen. But she hadn’t taken the leap of faith.

Testing the waters with karma, she took a sip of her wine and then said, “I’ve thought about buying a home, something old, and restoring it.”

Charlie smirked. “You strike me as more of a modern, high-rise girl. Sleek lines. Simple design.”

Damn. She sat back in her chair, not caring that she slouched. He’d described her current apartment. It was really starting to piss her off that she’d lived up to her own predictability.

Her job had left her unsatisfied for the past couple years, but more so since she’d driven to see Nash. The trip, past the fields and soft, rolling hills, with the afternoon sun shining bright, beckoned her. As she’d driven home, past fields of crops, cows, some horses, all she could question was if those people were happy.

Or if she was happy.

3

Nash watched the crosswalk, looking for either of the two women he’d insisted join him for an early dinner. A risky move, inviting both his high school friend and Lexi, but he’d promised Cameron he’d check in on his cousin, Juliana, and there was no way he’d leave Atlanta without seeing Lexi.

The first woman appeared. Juliana Campbell.

“Nash!” She squealed. He leaned over so she could wrap her arms around his neck. “I think you’ve grown since Christmas.”

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