“Thirty-two.” I laughed. “A little past my prime!”

She snorted with laughter, shaking her head. Her glossy hair fell over her shoulders as she leaned forward and urged, “And that man is forty and single. He’s been alone for far too long. I think you should… I don’t know… Go for it.” Moira watched me closely, waiting for my answer.

“Grant just said no schemes—”

“What else am I supposed to do with my time other than scheme to get two people together who obviously have a thing for each other?”

“You don’t need to help me. This is dumb. He’ll never… He’d never give me the time of day, Moira.”

“He wants you, Keely. Come on—”

“Fine!” I laughed, throwing my hands up. “But what am I supposed to do? Straight up tell him I’m in love with him?”

“If you want.” She shrugged, tilting her head as she contemplated the best course of action. “But he’s a man of few words, right?”

“Right…” I tapped my fingers on the table. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I was really going to do this. I was going to make George Neimons fall in love with me… with the help of a friend who should really be focusing on resting and getting ready to have her baby. “I guess I should just… be in his way?”

“That’s one way to get him to talk to you.” She chuckled.

I noticed her trying to rise from her chair and moved to help her up. She exhaled heavily, giving me a soft smile in thanks.

“Do you want to go upstairs?”

“Not yet. I think I’ll stay downstairs and watch TV for a while. Grant can carry me upstairs later,” she replied, smiling to herself. “He owes me, anyway. Apparently, he carries the giant baby genetics. I feel like a whale.”

“You are a very cute pregnant lady,” I assured her, helping her to couch. I could tell she was in pain, and I felt a little helpless as I tucked a blanket over her legs and handed her the remote.

I spent the rest of the evening cleaning up from dinner. Day eventually ran inside and changed the channel to a cartoon, snuggled up next to his mother while Moira dozed on the couch. I was elbow-deep in dishes when Grant walked inside, carrying his plate.

“Hey,” he said, setting his plate on the counter. “I already said you didn’t have to do the dishes in the evening. I got that covered.”

“It’s fine.” I smiled, drying my hands on a towel.

“Look, I—” He leaned his weight against the counter, crossing his arms as he mulled over exactly what he wanted to say. “How’s Pete doing?”

“Pete?” I replied with a short laugh. “I mean, he’s fine. But you live in the same town as him and I was in California for months—”

“I mean, how is Pete doing with you being home and working for me?”

“He hasn’t said anything to me about it other than to tell me you were looking for someone to help out,” I replied, the words laced with suspicion. “Why?”

Grant shifted his weight, giving me a look.

“What?” I laughed. “Why is everyone so worried about what my brother might think?”

“I know your brother well enough to know that he isn’t too keen on you being around a bunch of single farm hands and…”

“I’m not a kid.”

Grant gave me a tight, knowing smile.

“Is this about what happened with George when he came in?”

“He might’ve said something about being uncomfortable with you here because of your brother.”

I ran my tongue over my lower lip, nodding in understanding. “Pete’s not my keeper. He won’t cause you any problems.”

“I know, I’m not worried about me. I’m not worried about George, either.”