His Small-Town Sweetheart. Amanda BerryЧитать онлайн книгу.
was through waiting for stuff. She’d waited for Jeremy’s proposal. She’d waited for a promotion. The only things waiting had gotten her were no boyfriend and no job. And not enough money to stay in LA.
As she walked far enough away that the house disappeared behind a hill, she took in a full breath and spun in a circle. Seventeen years and she still felt most at home here, where she’d played as a child. After her parents divorced when she was fourteen, her mother had taken her to LA, and the twins had stayed with Dad.
Even though this path was a little overgrown now, she followed it, just as she’d traveled it almost every day until she was fourteen.
Best days of her life. She wanted to recapture that time and forget all the crap that came after. Deep in the wooded part of their land, right where it abutted the Ward farm, was where she and her best friend would meet. She headed toward the tree, hoping their creation was still there.
When her heel sank into the ground slightly, she stopped and pulled off her shoes. Her toes curled into the damp grass. It felt wonderful, liberating. How long had it been since her feet had been in grass? As she approached the fence, she looked around. Didn’t her father say that Sam Ward was in charge of the farm now?
A little thrill went through her heart. She went to the post where it was easiest to climb the fence. It wasn’t as easy as when she was a kid, but she got over and wouldn’t be embarrassed if someone saw her do it with her skirt hitched up over her knees. Back then, she’d worn jeans or shorts and a T-shirt that might or might not have been washed since the last time she wore it. Her mother had put her hair into two braids to keep it from getting too tangled. She’d always come home wearing more mud than a hog trying to get cool in the summer heat. Band-Aids covered her knees. Her nails were broken and dirty. A happy little mess.
Now her nails were perfectly manicured. Her knees were smooth and clean with only a few scars from her childhood adventures. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders, tangle-free with the right products and a straightening iron. Her skirt and blouse were feminine with flowers, the way Jeremy had always liked her to dress. Maybe she should go shopping...
As she rounded a bend, she saw it. After all these years, it was still there. The slab of wood they’d built up in the tree and called a tree house. She stopped in front of the tree and dropped her shoes to the ground. Glancing around and seeing no one, she smiled and grabbed the rope.
* * *
Sam Ward had never minded chores, but he was getting tired of finding damaged fencing along his property borders. John Baxter was usually good about it; if he found it first, he fixed it. But the new guy who’d bought the place to the south loved to drive his four-wheeler in his fields, but not actually keep up the fencing or anything else.
As Sam walked the fence bordering the Baxter property, Barnabus, his big, shaggy dog, trailed along behind him. Suddenly Barnabus lifted his head and gave a sharp bark before trotting into the woods.
Sam whistled, but the dog kept going. Probably a squirrel or something, but it could be a larger injured animal. He had sheep in the field at this time of year, but even a squirrel would be a welcome interruption into the monotony his life had become. Since his recovery from his valve surgery, he had been feeling ten times better than earlier this spring, prior to the operation. The tedium hadn’t bothered him before, but now he felt as if he’d been wasting his life out here all these years. Some days he wished he could just move away and start over. But this was his family’s farm, passed down to him by his parents.
A flash of white in a tree caught his attention. He quickened his pace down the old trail. If that new neighbor was littering on his land, he’d need to have a talk with him. But as he got closer, what Sam saw in the tree made no sense.
A slender young woman in a floral skirt and blouse stood on the platform that had once been his tree house. Her black hair lifted and floated on the wind. As he drew closer, he noticed the high heels at the base of the tree.
“You’re trespassing,” he called up to the clearly insane woman in his tree.
“No, I’m not. I built this place with my own two hands.” She turned and leaned forward against a thick offshoot of the trunk. She had the smile of a garden fairy, full of mischief. He couldn’t tell her eye color from so far away, but he could tell her eyes were light.
“I built that tree house almost twenty years ago.” He squinted as the sun moved to shine into his eyes.
“Sam?” Her voice sounded incredulous. “Oh, my God. Sam Ward, is that you?”
“Great,” he muttered, “the crazy woman in my tree knows my name.”
She pushed away from the trunk and started down with the use of the rope.
“I wouldn’t use that rope,” he said and moved closer.
“Why not? It got me up here.” Her skirt blew in the breeze and he caught a glimpse of her long legs and pink boy-short underwear before he could look away.
“Because it might—”
Before he could finish the sentence, the rope snapped in two. He rushed forward and grabbed the woman around the waist to stop her from falling to the ground. Her back pressed into his front. Her hair smelled floral and like expensive perfume with rich undertones, making him want to lean into her and draw in more of the scent.
He set her down in front of him. She spun immediately and pressed the length of her body against him and hugged him around the neck, pulling him down to her height. She was at least a half foot shorter than him. Even if she was crazy, his body responded to the soft curves pressed into his hardness.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said. Her tone made it seem as if she was ecstatic to see him. No one was that happy to see him. She must be certifiable.
She finally pulled away. Maybe she’d finally noticed he wasn’t holding in return. “Sam, it’s me.”
He looked into the crazy lady’s light green eyes. Surrounded by her dark lashes, the green reminded him of spring and new growth.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?” She smiled, and her eyes sparkled. Her lips drew his attention.
Aware of how close they were standing, he took a step back. “Should I?”
“Are you scared I’ll give you cooties or something?” She laughed, and it tickled the air around his ears pleasantly. “I cross my heart and hope to die that I have not been infected.”
When she crossed her heart with her finger, his gaze took in her breasts and waist and hips. By the time he lifted his eyes to hers, she had her eyebrow raised and was watching him with such an intensity that a spark of awareness flowed through him.
“Oh, I think he might have it, folks,” she said in a game show–style voice. “Come on. You never were as fast as I was, but I thought since you grew up so damned tall... When did you get that tall?”
“Nikki?” He couldn’t keep the awe from his voice. The corners of his mouth twitched into a quick smile. This couldn’t be the same tomboy with hair falling out of her braids and dirty jeans. She’d been straight as a rail and proud of it.
She grinned. “I go by Nicole now. Mom thought it sounded more mature, and who was I to argue with her?”
“You left.”
“All right. Apparently it’s going to take you some time to catch up. Yes, my mom and I moved to California when I was fourteen after the divorce. I’m back now. Staying with Dad until I can get back on my feet.”
“Are you sick?” He took a partial step forward, searching for signs of sickness. His own brush with illness was still a fresh wound, though he was almost completely healed.
Her brow furrowed and she shrugged. “No, just having issues with life in general.”
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. His brain was still trying to reconcile the beautiful woman in front of him with