Page 11 of All For You
“We… um… didn’t get that far. I’ll see if I can book a room for him here while he’s home. Or maybe there’s a rental in town I can set up.” She paused, and I noticed the glassiness of her eyes. “I was just so happy he was coming home, and now I’m afraid I ruined it.”
“Can I ask why you didn’t tell him anything before now? From what I’ve heard, I realize Owen isn’t the easiest person to get ahold of, but it might not have been such a shock if you’d been able to tell himsomething.”
“I tried, but he’s so stubborn and refused to listen when I brought up anything not related to baseball. I stopped trying. I should have insisted, I guess.”
Taking her shaking hand, I squeezed it gently between mine. “He’ll come around.”
She shakes her head but smiles at me at the same time. “You’re a sweet girl. Are you headed back to the farm?”
“Yeah, I’ll take one of the UTVs. I need to go over the books with my dad.”
“You work too hard,” she said like a scolding mother.
“You sound like Dean.” He had become friends with most of the town, including Owen’s mom. “I’ll see you later, Miss Beverly. If there’s anything we can do, just let me know.”
I hurried around the side of the house, where we stored the UTVs. There was a path that connected the bed-and-breakfast to Sunny Brook Farms, which made it easier for us to travel back and forth.
While most people were ending their day, mine was still going strong. The workload of a farmer was never-ending.
But even after arriving back at my family’s house and going through the financials with my father—something I was struggling to comprehend—I couldn’t help thinking about how Owen’s world was just flipped upside down.
I was so distracted that, instead of making up an excuse like I usually did, I agreed to join Jenna out for drinks tonight. Something I’d only ever done once since I turned twenty-one three years ago.
Chapter Four – Owen
“Another?”
The bartender stood before me as I sipped at the beer he handed me over an hour ago. I wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with, but my mind was still spinning from the secrets my mother spilled this afternoon.
I stormed out after learning she lost the house I grew up in and had been working for the Easterlys for the past year, before which she’d held a few serving jobs after my high school graduation. I’d been sending her money for years, but she refused to touch any of it.
Driving around earlier, I thought about going to the bank to try to salvage the house, but a quick drive past the property showed me how in disarray it was. The roof had caved in from the large oak tree in the front falling over. The same tree I’d fallen from while climbing it when I was ten and broke my collarbone.
Just thinking of that accident left my shoulder twinging. That was another tribulation I was going to need to deal with soon. I’d scheduled time with one of the team’s new sports medicine therapists to work on my shoulder for the upcoming season. I kept the prolonged aches and pains from my coach as long as I could, but he pulled me aside at the end of last season and requested I take care of it. Looking back, it wasn’t so much a request as it was a demand. The team had a lot of money invested in me.
“Yeah.”
Spinning around on my stool, I took in the crowd, noticing that the old bar filled up quickly. In my mental solitude, I’d ignored all the noise. It was a trick I learned on the field, a way to help me focus.
A group of women stood at a high-top table, and the second my eyes skimmed past them, they immediately started preening. One fluffed her hair, and another adjusted her top. The other three had their backs to me.
Running a hand through my own hair, I continued to take in the crowd, ignoring the women’s come-hither stares. I instantly regretted not wearing my ball cap. Though, most of the townspeople I grew up with knew me better with it on than off. But to this new crop of Ashfield dwellers, I was fresh blood… and a celebrity. Seemed Colton’s appeal had worn off.
“Shit,” I mumbled as a group of guys started approaching. I didn’t recognize any of them, but by the suits they wore, my guess was they worked for the bank or a law firm in town.
Unfortunately for them, I was not up for making new friends today—or, well, ever.
“Hey, man.”
“Hey,” I replied kindly, because the last thing I wanted to do was cause a PR nightmare. Thankfully, the bartender set the refreshed beer in front of me, giving me something to do with my hands and my mouth.
“You’re Owen Ramsey, right?” the shortest of the trio asked, his eyes lighting up in the process. As nice as it was to be amidst a fan, I was not in the right headspace to make a lot of conversation.
“I am,” I said, lifting the new glass and taking a sip of the amber lager.
“Wow. I knew you grew up here, but I never expected to see you in person. I’m a big fan.” He continued to list off some plays and data like he was reading directly from my stats sheet.
One of the other two men seemed interested as well, while the other looked off and winked at the women who had been vying for my attention not a full minute before. Out ofthe three, he was what most women would call handsome. He resembled someone from a cologne advertisement I’d seen in a magazine at the airport. His blond hair was slicked back, and he had an end-of-the-day shadow along his jawline.
