Page 24 of Lime Tree Hill

That was news to Tayla. But then, her father wasn’t one to discuss business with his daughters. “Why’s that?”

“To be honest, it’s more of an opportunistic offer than a realistic one. But as we’re not privy to the deal Mitch made with your parents, we don’t know what we’re up against. Still, considering the state of the orchard, its location, and Barry’s ill health, it’s worth a look. With Cherry Grove landlocked by Lime Tree Hill, ittends to put most prospective buyers off, and that’s before they’ve even seen the place or the financials.”

Andrew was right. The orchard was in a state, especially compared to the slick operation that was Lime Tree Hill. But every time someone mentioned it, Tayla couldn’t help but take it as a direct criticism of her parents. That hurt more than she let on.

He slid the sale and purchase agreement across the desk toward her. “Take a look.”

Tayla scanned down the page, stopping at the scribbled figure with its attached zeros. It was a lot lower than Mitch’s offer; however, Mitch’s offer had a tight string attached. A marriage. Or at least, it did.

She looked up at Andrew, keeping her expression neutral. “Is there any room for upward movement?”

“We won’t know unless we try.”

“Who are the Stone and Pip Group?”

“A local company run by Chris Stone. They own orchards all over the province, growing apples and stone fruit for the high-end export market. Ruby mentioned a possible problem with Mitch settling. I thought we’d start the ball rolling just in case. What date is settlement due?”

“Three weeks, Thursday.”

“Okay. How about you take a few days to mull it over? In the meantime, Chris is keen to meet up tomorrow, suggested we discuss it over dinner if you’re free. But don’t hold your breath for a higher offer. The guy’s pretty cut and dried when it comes to business.”

The following morning, Tayla awoke to a drizzly dawn. She snuggled down in her bed, rolled onto her back, and surveyed her surroundings. She’d experienced so much in this room. Written poetry, shared secrets with her diary, hidden under the covers witherotic novels—even shared her first awkward kiss with a boy from school who came to help her with a science project.

Mitch popped unbidden into her thoughts. He might be hot as the Sahara and able to charm a snake out of a basket, but their cozy chat in the rain aside, the man was ruthless when it came to serving his self-interest. And to think she’d once considered him boyfriend material; dreamed of his kiss, his touch. She shuddered at the stupidity of her hopelessly romantic teenage self.

Tayla drifted back to sleep and woke again around eight, surprised to see the sun streaming through the windows. She’d go for a run later,but first, she needed to call Ruby about the Chris Stone update.

Mitch wandered along the banks of the river with Edward in cold pursuit. The pug never hurried for anyone, but the pace gave Mitch time to ponder. Thinking back to the game of touch, he cracked a grin at the thought of Tayla lying on the ground with him on top of her.

At first, seeing her in those skimpy shorts, sporty tank, and high ponytail, Mitch had made an assumption he had no business making. But his opinion had soon changed. Light on her feet and a fast runner, she’d definitely held her own on the field.

He opened the gate and strolled over to the Whitman homestead, a small brown paper bag in hand. The sight of her feeding chickens and collecting eggs in the henhouse slowed his stride. In contrast, Edward ran on ahead to greet her.

“Edward. Here boy.” She crouched to pet him. “Hey, beautiful boy. What are you doing here, fella?”

“Afternoon, Tayla.”

She stood to full height at the sound of his voice. “Mitch. What can I do for you?”

Her frostiness caught him off guard until he remembered she’dbeen pretty buzzedthe night before. “I guess a pat and a hug like you gave Edward is out of the question, so I’ll settle for a coffee.” He offered her the bag, then reached down and picked up the basket of eggs.

She looked inside at the berry pie dusted with powdered sugar. “What’s this for?”

“It’s humble pie.” He flashed his best boyish smile, the one he kept for special occasions. “An apology, for landing on top of you when I tripped.”

She brushed past him and walked toward the house. Mitch followed. The days were cooler now, and he noticed goosebumps on her arms. He doubted he was the cause, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“It’s true,” he said. “My foot caught on a clod of dirt. My knee’s still stiff.”

“Come in.” She held the door open. “So you’ve been baking?”

The kitchen seemed bigger without Barry and Jean, and it smelled faintly of lavender. He missed their casual chats over the fence. “Not me, Maisie’s Bakery.But they made it especially for you.”

“Is that right?” She opened the fridge to put the pie away and grabbed a bottle of milk. “Thanks. I love berry pie.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

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