Page 49 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

“Wood and a couple screws. You wouldn’t think, would you?”

“Nope,” came the chorus. They all three shook their heads. Owen would have laughed if he didn’t feel so defeated.

“I guess we should break the bad news to Mom,” Brad said, putting his hands on his knees and hoisting himself up. The sun was almost completely buried below the horizon, the ridge in front of them dark blue and contrasted against the now-pink sky.

“The only real tragedy here is the loss of perfectly good pie,” Alan said. He shook his head sadly and stood as well.

“I couldn’t fit another bite in my stomach if I tried,” Owen admitted. “I don’t know how you two don’t weigh three hundred pounds apiece with the way Marge cooks. I’d eat y’all out of house and home if I lived here.”

Alan laughed, clapping Owen on the back. “She’ll love to hear that. But it won’t soften her on the dessert. That woman’s more annoyed by this barn and that darned shutter than any of us. Can’t understand why it won’t just give. If it were up to her, we’d level it, and replace it with something stronger, something prefab, though.”

“I’m with her there, but man does that sting the balls giving up like that,” Owen said, soaking in the last of the day.

This was what he’d moved there for—the epic colors, scents, and tastes from nature, the pride that came with tackling a problem that he could fix with his own bare hands. Or not, in the case of the shutter. Finally, the sun and its heat disappeared below the horizon and he made his way back inside.

Paige still slept in her chair. Owen couldn’t hide the smile that turned up his lips each time he laid eyes on her. There was something about her that called to him no matter how much he tried to logic his way into forgetting about her, setting her free to travel, to live.

Brad came up beside him. “That’s the sweetest she’ll ever be,” he teased.

“Isn’t that true for all of us?” They glanced at the kitchen at the sound of commotion, watched as Alan reached for the glass pan still half full of key lime pie, only to be swatted away by Marge.

“No, sir. That shutter fixed?”

“Well, we all three tried—” he began, but she shook her head, put up her hand.

“This’ll be here until you take care of it.” She smiled, her lips tight, and walked out of the room. Alan reached for the pan again, stealth and soundless.

“Don’t you dare,” she called out from the living room where she tucked the blanket tighter around her daughter.

“She’s good,” Alan muttered. “Too good.” He sulked out of the kitchen, shoulders hunched.

Owen understood, but not about the lost pie. He’d never come across a project he couldn’t get a handle on, least not a simple one that even a novice handyman should be able to rectify easily. Then there was Paige, this conundrum of a woman who lay curled in a ball in an armchair, his heart somewhere wrapped up beside her. Two unsolvable challenges clanked around in his head, the shutter the least of them.

She wanted him around, but she was leaving, so what role did she envision him playing in her life? He wasn’t leaving Banberry, even for her. He loved to travel, would love to see the world, but he needed roots for once in his life. The farm offered a home base at least. Would that be enough for her or was he just a fun distraction while she healed?

Running his hands through the sides of his hair, he wished he had some clarity about what to do going forward. He’d only gone three days thinking Paige didn’t want him in her life and that damn near killed not just him, but his fence as well. He didn’t want to get further along with her, more wrapped up in the possibilities he imagined, only to be crushed when she left in the end.

Brad came up behind him, drawing him out of his circular debate with himself.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get her fixed,” Brad said. By the way Brad’s glance shifted to the window he meant the barn, but Owen only thought of Paige, of her next appointment with the doctor so they could poison her to try to save her life, her ability to have children.

“I know we will,” he replied. “We have to.” He gathered his now-clean tray and reached out to shake Brad’s hand. “Thanks again for dinner, brother. It was nice to catch up with you guys.”

“Come around tomorrow, huh?” Brad asked. Owen narrowed his eyes, confused. “I don’t think I can handle my sister whining about seeing you anymore. Stop by so I don’t have to.”

Owen nodded.

Everyone was pushing him towards Paige—even she was pulling him in, kissing him and making him believe they were more than their brief affair on the mountain outcropping. Still, he got the sense that if he got any closer, it wouldn’t be a good thing for either of them when, notif, she decided to leave again. Not especially since he’d just inadvertently been handed the family he’d longed for his whole damn life. What happened when he lost them, too?

He told Brad he would stop by anyway, knowing that healthy decision or not, he couldn’t stay away from Paige if he tried. To hell with his heart and his future.

He walked back to his farm in the darkness, the now-present trail known to him by memory already, the crispness in the air causing him to draw his arms around his chest. He knew what he wanted, even if it killed him. In that way, he guessed he hadn’t changed much since joining the Marines.

As he got to his door he glanced up at Paige’s bedroom above the garage, darkened and shades drawn since she was moved to the main house for the next couple weeks at least.

She just might be the end of him.

But what a way to go.

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