Page 22 of Call It Love

Reid exhaled, clearly frustrated. He shot me an apologetic glance. “Maybe this isn’t?—”

But I cut him off before he could make an offer he couldn’t retract. A deal was a deal, something Jordan needed to honor. “You any good with a shovel?” I asked Jordan.

He shrugged.

I studied him for a few beats before trying a different tactic. “Tell you what. Do you know how to drive?”

That got a very different reaction. Jordan’s eyes flicked up to mine. “Yeah. I ain’t got a license, though.” He cast a wary glance toward Reid, as if suddenly aware that hisadmission might land him in more trouble. “I’m only fifteen.”

“Old enough to drive a UTV, though.”

For a second, Jordan appeared curious. But just as quickly, he seemed to remember he wasn’t supposed to be interested in anything. He tossed his thin shoulders in a quick, dismissive shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

“All right then. Tell you what. Let’s go for a drive around my farm. You pick the direction we go, and I’ll tell you more about what we do here. If anything catches your interest, we can start you there next week.”

Jordan hesitated, then shrugged again. Reid took that as his cue to leave. The sound of his retreating SUV filled the space between Jordan and me until the dust settled, and only the distant calls of birds took over.

Jordan avoided my gaze, scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground. His guarded wariness reminded me of Anna. Different circumstances, but the same sort of unspoken weight pressing down on both of them.

I jerked my head toward the barn. “Come on. UTVs are back here.”

Without a word, he trailed behind me, clearly indicating he wasn’t ready to be friends. That was fine. While I wasn’t here to be his friend, I wanted him to know this would be a safe place for him, something my gut told me he needed. Also something he had in common with Anna.

I led him to the two off-road vehicles parked near the back of the barn. Their frames were still coated in dust and mud from hauling debris after the storm. Maybe after we were done, Jordan could help me hose them off.

“Pick one,” I told him.

He hesitated, as if he thought it was a trick. Finally, he ran a hand over the closest one. “This one, I guess.”

I tossed him the key I still had in my pocket. His reflexes were sharp, and he caught it easily, his fingers tightening around the metal with surprise.

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. It will make my life easier if I know you can drive it safely.”

We both climbed in, and with one more puzzled look at me, he started the engine, the low rumble filling the barn.

“Which way?”

“Your call.” I readjusted the cap on my head and leaned back as if I didn’t have a care.

“Weird,” I heard Jordan mutter, but for the first time, it didn’t hold any malice. Carefully, he backed the UTV out of the barn and eased us forward across the open grass toward the field of trees in the distance.

“Silver Creek Farm covers over five hundred acres,” I told him casually. “It’s been in my family for over two hundred years. It started off as a mill where folks from miles around would bring their wheat or corn to be ground. Supposedly, one of my great-grandfathers hauled the stones from Virginia after the American Revolution. The land was considered payment for his service.”

Jordan didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was listening, so I continued. “The old mill is still along the back of the property. Eventually, the farm shifted to livestock like cows and chickens, and anything else a family would need to live on. After World War II, when the housing industry boomed, people wanted nice lawns with pretty shrubs and flowers. We had the space, so my great-grandfather began planting more domesticated versions of trees and flowering shrubs. Over the years, as the landscaping business has grown, so has what we offer.”

“That’s what you do? Sell trees and shit?”

I cut him a quick glare. “Language.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“But yes. We sell young trees and shrubs and also supply some flowers, mostly for planting, but I supply the local flower shop as well.”

Jordan seemed to let that settle. “That’s…different.”

I smirked. “Expecting more cows and pigs and chickens?”

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