Always On My Mind (The Sullivans #8)(13)

He purposely kept his mind blank as he cleaned up the floor, then did the dishes and headed into his bedroom to hit the sack. He could hear Lori banging around in her room, knew she was pissed off at him, and tried not to feel guilty about his behavior. Hell, if she’d have been the male college-aged kid he’d planned to hire, he wouldn’t have been worrying about being nice or trying not to touch his new farmhand. And he sure wouldn’t be practically tiptoeing around in his own bedroom because he was worried about waking her up when she’d obviously been hard hit with the need for rest.

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he have considered letting her stay even for one night? Tomorrow, he decided, one way or another she had to go.

Grayson was just pulling back the covers when he heard something that had him stilling.

Crying.

She was crying, damn it.

Grayson clenched the covers tightly in his fist as his heart—the one he swore he didn’t have anymore—broke for her.

He had no idea what, or who, had hurt Lori Sullivan. But given how strong she’d proved herself to be all day long, he knew it had to be bad if it could force her to the point where she couldn’t hold back her sobs.

Especially since he knew the last thing she’d want would be for him to hear them.

It took every ounce of his self-control not to go to her, and in the end, the only thing that kept him from leaving his room for hers was the absolute certainty that she would hate for him to see her with her walls down, vulnerable and hurting.

And by the time her bedroom finally fell silent a short while later, Grayson knew he wasn’t going to make good on his promise to himself, come tomorrow.

He was going to let her stay.

Chapter Six

So much for everything looking better in the morning.

Because even though Grayson had let her sleep in past sunrise, when Lori got out of bed to deal with the call of nature she was shocked by how much everything hurt. She’d danced for hours every day for nearly her entire life, yet she still ached from the cleaning and stooping and kneeling on the floor. All for someone who didn’t appreciate any of it, and who clearly had never uttered the words “thank you” before.

Why had she ever thought it was a good idea to start over in Pescadero? Instead of renting a car at the airport and driving into the boonies, she could have hopped onto another plane and headed off to Hawaii. She could be lying on the beach right now sipping drinks under an umbrella with the sound of soothing waves lulling away her sadness.

Only, she’d always hated lying around on the beach. Besides, she would have gone absolutely crazy in Hawaii with all of those happy couples on their honeymoons and anniversaries walking hand in hand and kissing in the moonlight.

She hadn’t bothered to blow-dry her hair last night after her bath. She could jump into another quick bath and blow-dry, but why should she when she was just going to get all dirty and sweaty again cleaning and cooking and dealing with chickens? It was much easier just to run a brush through her hair and pull it back into a ponytail. She gave another thought to pulling her makeup bag out of her suitcase, but what was the point of that, either? The farm animals wouldn’t care what she looked like.

And she certainly wasn’t trying to attract Grayson. In fact, it would be better if she didn’t look pretty. That way, he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about her and actually start looking at her as a woman, rather than a farmhand.

Still, it was weird to forgo makeup, considering that even when her brothers had dragged her out camping a couple of times, she’d brought the basics with her. But as Lori studied herself in the mirror, she was surprised to realize that she didn’t look half bad with a perfectly clean face, apart from the fact that her eyes were still a little puffy and red around the edges.

She still couldn’t believe she’d cried last night—that she’d actually lain in the guest bed and sobbed into the pillow to make sure the sound didn’t carry to the rest of the house. Her twin sister Sophie had always been the crier—over sad books or when someone got hurt or even when one of their brothers did something really great like win the World Series or an Oscar—but never Lori.

She’d rather hug or kiss or dance. Anything but cry.

She tried to tell herself that they had been angry tears. Frustrated tears. Exhausted tears. But it was no use, not when she knew there had been plenty of self-pitying tears mixed in, too. And those were the ones that she absolutely wouldn’t stand for.

Lori Sullivan wasn’t someone who felt sorry for herself. She didn’t have time for that nonsense.

Moving quickly, she pulled on her jeans and T-shirt from last night and looked through the shoes in her bags. Mostly heels. The closest she had to farm-appropriate shoes was a pair of ballet flats. She sighed at the thought of just how quickly they were sure to get ruined in the dirt and mud and grass, but slipped them on anyway. Just then, she finally looked out her bedroom window and her breath caught at the view of Grayson’s land in the morning light.

My God, it was beautiful here. She’d noticed the beauty yesterday, of course, but every moment since she’d gotten on the plane in Chicago had felt like such a battle, and she’d been so tired that she hadn’t really seen Pescadero clearly.

With wonder, she drank in the open sky, grass so green it almost hurt her eyes, and—

Oh my. Grayson was working without his shirt on, sweat gleaming on his incredible muscles as he chopped wood like a man possessed.