“Nope.”
“We were what? Ten?”
“Thirteen.”
“But you don’t remember.” Felicia laughed so loud Mary-Beth was sure it was intentional to draw Tanner out of the house. His bike sat near the barn, but he was nowhere to be found. The lights were low in the house and the curtains drawn. “You said you’d marry that boy one day because anyone who would choose you over winning a football game deserved your undying love.”
She took a deep breath and decided it was time to make her friend understand why she didn’t want anything to do with Tanner McCadden. “That was a boy who chose me over a game. The man didn’t.”
The words were bitter and raw and nauseating. Her stomach tightened, and she returned to work for no other reason than to move forward, the way she’d been moving forward since she’d left behind the dream of a life that would never be.
For the time it took to finish unloading and for Felicia to roll out the plans Declan had drawn for her, she didn’t speak.
As if a flood of questions burst through the dam of caution, Felicia crossed her arms and faced Mary-Beth. “You don’t know that he chose football over you. You don’t know that he wouldn’t choose you now. You don’t know if he’s the boy from childhood, the guy from high school, or a new man. You don’t know anything. And you’ll never know anything until you speak to Tanner McCadden.”
“No. There’s no reason. Why would I ever want to speak to him? There’s nothing between us. He chose being a football star over us.”
“Because, Mary-Beth Richards, you need to figure out if you’re still in love with Tanner McCadden. That’s a question anyone should want to know the answer to.”
“I know I do.” Tanner’s deep voice demolished the hint of calm Mary-Beth had managed to hold on to for the last twenty minutes. She turned to find the tall, handsome, wide-eyed heartbreaker waiting for her answer.
Chapter Four
The sunrise erupted over the mountains like a beautiful bomb. Tanner had forgotten how colorful and alive his hometown was in the Blue Ridge Mountains where the mystic haze settled in during the early hours and the smoky fog at night. The animals, insects, trees, people… All were vibrant and memorable. Once, he’d thought after a few years of pro ball, he’d retire here with Mary-Beth to raise their children. He’d play long enough to make his father proud, secure his financial future, and enjoy the fame but then return to take over the family business, supplying much-needed funds. Now, he wanted to be anywhere but McCadden Farm and the impending wedding. Especially after Mary-Beth let him know the answer to Felicia’s question directly. Mary-Beth had no love for him, and Felicia was out of her mind for ever asking her. She’d moved on. Of course she’d moved on! She was getting married to another man…
He shoved the barn door open and faced the first stall that once housed his favorite horse. She’d been gone for years, though. His freshman fall semester at college, he’d received an email stating that his favorite equine companion had succumbed to illness. That was a dark year. The year he’d lost his ability to play ball, he’d lost his future, and he’d lost his relationship with his father.
Brushing off the past and the thought of Mary-Beth getting married, Tanner took the new horse out to the pasture to graze and run while he mucked the stall. Hard work used to make him feel like he was worthy. His father had taught him at an early age the value of manual labor, and he’d taken that with him while working his way through college and ultimately landing a job at the University of Tennessee as an assistant coach. He’d thought that would be a consolation prize for his father, but he had never attended a single game.
Tanner found the wheelbarrow in the same place they’d always kept it and chucked in a five-prong pitchfork he found hanging on the wall. That was new. While he was at it, he grabbed the broad shovel, stable broom, and work gloves. If he was going to do the job, he might as well do it right.
The two other horses in their stalls neighed, as if ordering him to tend to them, too. Based on the amount of manure and wet straw, they all needed attention. How long had the farm been in this condition? His father hadn’t been gone long enough for this kind of neglect. The familiar pinch at his sternum warned him of the grief he still hadn’t allowed himself to feel over the loss of his father, and now wasn’t the time. Not when so many witnesses were watching and gossiping on the farm.
He drove the pitchfork into the bedding and dumped the wet straw and manure into the barrel then scraped any clean hay to the side. After thirty minutes, he realized there wasn’t enough clean hay left to make it worth the effort and decided to chuck the rest of it.
Despite the cool breeze outside, the barn was warm. He removed his outer layer, hanging his flannel shirt on the nail sticking out of the pole, and returned to work. An hour passed with two stalls done. His white tank was drenched in sweat, and he was parched.
“It’s been a while since you worked on a farm.” Mary-Beth’s voice shattered his quiet morning with the promise of anger and bitterness he didn’t need. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I need the fertilizer that Felicia left in the storeroom. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
She bolted down the center of the barn to the back corner, with her brown and golden waves bouncing from a ponytail and her boots scraping the floor.
“You lift that nose any higher, and you’ll hit the peak of the roof.” He couldn’t help himself. The resentment surfaced, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with an ex-girlfriend he’d be forced to face daily until his brother came home.
“Me? You’re the one who doesn’t want to grace any of us with your almighty presence. I mean, come on, I never took you for a coward until now.”
Her bottom lip quivered, but she bit it into submission the way she always had when she was so angry, she could cry. She hurried away and opened the storage room door.
She didn’t have the right to be angry. That firmly rested in his end zone, so he tossed the pitchfork to the ground and marched after Mary-Beth. “I’m not avoiding. I’m working, trying to get this farm back into shape. The barn roof needs repairs, the stalls are disgusting, the house is falling apart, the pasture is overgrown, vegetable garden dead, not to mention the fact it’s almost time to harvest and none of the equipment is running. So, excuse me if I don’t have time to help plan your wedding. No one’s going to help get this place back into shape but me.” His anger boiled to the surface along with the stinging taste of Mary-Beth marrying another man.
“Not my wedding,” Mary-Beth mumbled.
His heart reached his throat with a leap of unwanted joy. “What?”
“Ms. Horton—Mayor Horton to you. It’s her wedding to Mr. Strickland. I assumed you knew by now.” She tugged and yanked at the oversize fertilizer bag that didn’t budge.
Energy that he wasn’t expecting renewed, as if he’d taken a dip in the lake. The southern gentleman way he was raised wouldn’t allow him to ignore her need, despite how he felt about her, so he crowded in between her and a shelf to reach the fertilizer. The storage room was even more confining and hot than the barn. He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Where does it need to go?”