Page 72 of Heart Set on You

“I see a lot of you in her, you know.”

“You do?”

“I do. Her strength, her warmth. She’s empathetic and kind just like you. And you’re both a little stubborn.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. I’ve never had to work harder in my life to win a girl over.”

“Then you were flirting up the wrong girls,” Rylee teases, her voice low and silky.

“You know how important you are to me, right?” I ask her.

“I think I do, but maybe you should show me,” she says. “Quietly.”

I shift behind her, my breath against my neck. “Very,” I whisper.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Miles

The next morning after breakfast, Rylee’s Gramps heads out to the farm and Cara stops by to pick up Gran and take her to a hair appointment.

Alone in the old farmhouse, Rylee and I take our second cups of coffee out to the porch and sit together on the swing, looking out over the countryside. The trees are so full and green they look like a movie set. Everything out here feels more alive, more vibrant. We sit quietly, the morning sun warming our skin. I’ll miss this on Tuesday when I’m back in Los Angeles inhaling the smog, sitting in traffic, dealing with the ever-present paparazzi. Fresh country air, pecan pies and good people. I think I could get used to this.

“You’re killing me in that sweatshirt right now.” She’s wearing my hoodie, the one I gave her the day she was soaked from the rain. Fuck. There’s something about seeing her in my clothes that does something to me.

Rylee eyes me over her coffee cup with that look in her eyes she gets when she catches me staring at her. “I am, am I?”

“You know you are, country girl,” I say with a flirty look in my eyes then decide to change the subject before things get too heated. It’s the way it’s always been with her. Things go from zero to sixty in seconds. “This is a pretty great place for a child to grow up. I can see why you love it so much,” I say, pushing the swing back and forth with the tip of my toe.

“Over there is where my brothers and I would play capture the flag. And see that rope swing on that tree? That’s where I broke my arm. This farm is where I’ve made most of my memories.”

She points to a narrow, dirt path that disappears into the field. “That path right there is where my brothers would sneak off with their girlfriends. I used to bust them from my bedroom window.”

“And what about you… did you sneak out to meet your boyfriends too?”

“No. I was too afraid to get caught. I never wanted to upset my grandparents. They were busy enough trying to keep my brothers in line. Besides, I didn’t date much.”

“Why is that?” I ask because it’s her and everything about her fascinates me.

“A whole bunch of reasons,” she says, nuzzling her head against my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head.

“Tell me just one.”

“Hmm… okay.” It’s quiet for a moment while she ponders the question. “I think I felt like it would be a distraction. I wanted to keep my grades up. I wanted to spend my weekend on the farm harvesting or helping with the animals. And Gran always needed help in the kitchen.”

“I’m guessing you’ll be doing a lot of that when you move back. Helping in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, there will be a lot of that.”

I want to ask her what makes her happy. I want to tell her that she doesn’t have to move back to the farm. I have other questions too: What are your dreams? If you could do absolutely anything, what would it be? But what I really want to say to her is stay with me.

“It’s bittersweet,” she says, looking up at me, making me want to brush the tips of my fingers over the freckles on her nose.

I think I know what she means. This farm was the perfect place to grow up, until that fateful day when her parents were killed. I’m not sure anything I say can make that kind of pain go away so I instead pull her body against mine. She leans into my arms.

Later that night, she takes me to the Sunny Side Up, a diner not far from the farm. It’s one of three restaurants in Deer Lake – there are far more churches in town than there are places to eat. In addition to the Sunny Side Up, there’s a pub and a fish and chips place, which I find odd for a small town in Tennessee. As soon as we pull into the parking lot it’s pretty clear that word has gotten around that I’m in town. I can feel the eyes on us, hear the hushed chatter as we get out of Rylee’s Gramps’ truck. It doesn’t bother me. We may as well give them what they’re hoping to see.

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