Page 39 of Buried Roots

Owen glances at me, shaking his head. “That was a dare. And I take my dares very seriously, you know that, Kota.”

Kota?I let out a laugh that I swear sounds like a cackling hyena, and I push away the prickle of dread skittering up my spine.

After the two engage in some catch up conversation, Owen tells Dakota, “I’m taking over Violet Moon’s vet hospital. Dr. Thompson is retiring.”

Dakota goes wide-eyed but blinks it away. “So, you’re coming back here for good?”

“I am.” His tone is quiet and a bit strained, and my prickle of dread becomes more of a nasty wave.

Dakota said she never got over her high school sweetheart, and by the look in her eyes right now, it seems like she has it bad for Owen.

Oh, god, please tell me I’m wrong about this. But Jeb mentioned drama.

The band plays Adele’s “Someone Like You” and Frankie comes over. She looks almost unrecognizable with her dark hair pulled up with curls, makeup, and a simple yet elegant forest green dress. She looks at Owen and Dakota when she says, “Wasn’t this your prom song?”

“Indeed, it was.” Dakota gently takes Owen’s hand. With that classic country drawl, she says, “May I have this dance, Mr. Brooks? For old time’s sake.”

So, Dakota and Owen were together. I feel a painful zing.

Owen flashes me a look, his eyes filled with concern, but I say, “You kids go have fun,” through a lump forming in my throat.

Owen turns to Dakota and mumbles, “Uh, sure.”

Once they’re dancing, Dakota cups his jaw and uses her thumb to wipe something off his cheek.

With my chest tightening and my palms clamming, I don’t want to be here another second.

My brain feels like it’s in a woodchipper as I try to process everything that’s happening. Clearly, Dakota is still in love with Owen, and although he seems hesitant with her, he loved her for a very long time.

And I feel betrayed by Frankie even though I know, logically, I shouldn’t. It hurts that she doesn’t want me for her son, even though she’s right. I repeat that to myself.

Frankie is right.Who am I to get in the middle of Dakota and Owen? In six weeks, I’m back in New York, a place Owen never wants to live. Dakota and Owen both love it in Violet Moon, and they have a real chance of a happy life together.

I grab my purse and slip away. I need to distance myself from Owen, starting now.

14

The Restoration

MymeetingwithMayorRosen went amazingly well. Now I have an offer on the table for the farm—as long as it passes the Georgia state inspection—which includes the clause for the animals. I also have a deadline—August 6th, which is in exactlyfourweeks!

But with the city’s name behind it, I now have additional crews to work more quickly.

So far, I’m three days in, and I’ve managed to avoid Owen. It’s helped that I’ve been slammed, and he was gone for a few days, returning to Atlanta to pack up all his things before moving back to Violet Moon for good.

After Mr. Livingston worked with the local banker to secure me a historical restoration loan two days ago, the mayor helped me find additional contractors who don’t mind coming in from Atlanta to get Bo’s Château whipped into shape in no time. Because the landmark will have new purpose, we’ll have to do a renovation along with a restoration so it can be functional as a destination resort.

The contractors are highly reputable, and I’m pumped to knock things down. Today, a demo crew made up of volunteers from Violet Moon is taking out the kitchen walls, opening it up to the dining and living areas. Then they’re going to take out the back wall and weathered patio so they can be replaced with sliding glass doors and brick pavers.

I flip into professional mode when I meet Owen outside, despite my pulse going into overdrive. He’s offered to help me until he starts at the vet hospital in three weeks. Today’s job is messy, so Owen and I are on cleanup duty while the crew takes sledgehammers to the place.

Owen says, “Wow. It’s going down fast.”

“It’s almost scary, isn’t it?” I blink away the dust from my eyes. “The rebuild, however, is much more painstaking.”

“I bet.”

Owen and I glove up and begin the fun job of picking up ripped-out boards. We try not to get stuck by nails as we haul them to the dumpsters that now sit in the roundabout driveway. It’s also our job to sweep out drywall dust so the place is in decent shape for tomorrow’s crew, who’ll start framing the new back wall. I take window measurements and place a rush order for the day after tomorrow. I can’t afford a delay in materials.

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