Harvest Moon (Virgin River #15)(18)

“I can’t, Rory. I have to do my homework with Courtney. She came all the way out here to help me with my math.”

“How long does it take to do spelling words?” Courtney asked.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Amber answered with a shrug. “He’ll get ’em all right.”

“Then let’s do ’em,” Courtney said, barely recognizing herself. But he’s in a wheelchair, she thought. And even that doesn’t give you slack from homework?

During homework, Courtney found out that Rory had muscular dystrophy. When she asked if he’d get out of that wheelchair pretty soon, Amber said, “There’s no cure. Yet.” Courtney was afraid to ask any more questions. After homework, they went out to the barn where they kept one cow and two horses. There were also chickens and a couple of goats and a few dogs, one of whom seemed to move a little slow. “She’s pretty much ready to whelp,” Amber said. “The family’s got a bet going—want to get in on it? Her last litter she dropped seven pups.”

Courtney bet nine.

Hawk, Amber’s dad, was a skinny old farmer. They caught up with him while he was hosing off his tractor out by the family’s big vegetable garden. It was hard to tell if his name was the shortened version of his last name or due to his hawkish nose. He was a little hunched but strong, like maybe he’d been working real hard for a lot of years. Yet when he met Courtney, he turned out to be a little silly.

“I been looking forward to this,” he said, putting out his calloused hand to her. “Been dyin’ to see the hairdo!”

“Dad!” Amber scolded, clearly mortified.

“What? I been dyin’ to. Must take commitment, eh?”

Courtney laughed. “Sort of.”

“Courtney,” Amber said pleadingly. “He swore he wouldn’t make fun.”

“I didn’t make fun,” her father protested. “I can’t help wondering what it feels like. Can I touch it?”

“It’s just hair,” Courtney said, leaning her head toward him.

“So it is. I just have to ask—what did your dad have to say when he first laid eyes on it?”

“It totally freaked him out,” she said almost proudly.

And Hawk smiled knowingly. “Knew there had to be a good reason.”

When Lief saw that window of opportunity—Courtney making a homework date with a girlfriend from school—he was ready to get back to that Victorian on the premise of a tour and some free garden stock. It had only been a couple of days, but Courtney didn’t provide many such opportunities. He realized he’d never thought ahead enough to ask Kelly for a phone number.

The tour and veggies were an excuse, though he did find the property curious and interesting. But really, it was the brokenhearted blonde with the delicious mouth who drew him. And bless her little soul, Lief was almost glad she was overcoming lost love. That would buy him some time. Although he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, he had so many complications in his life to sort out. First of all, it wasn’t likely Courtney’s behavior was going to improve if Lief introduced a new woman into their already tenuous relationship. And any woman getting involved with them would probably be horrified by Courtney’s sass if not her style. Add to that, it had been years since he’d been attracted to a woman other than his wife and didn’t even know where to start. He used to be good with women; it never took much effort to hook up. He really hoped it was like riding a bike…

Yeah, it would probably involve years of therapy for himself and Courtney before he would even get up the courage to chance a kiss.

But when he thought of Kelly, he thought of someone whose beauty and warmth enveloped him, someone he longed to hold, to sink into, to possess. There was a softness and allure to her that made him feel as though he had no will of his own. The second she’d walked into Jack’s he’d felt it, and to his surprise, he’d kept feeling it long after she was out of sight.

But it surpassed sweet comfort—he also thought of sex. Urgent sex. She was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time. He had a feeling he could be completely reborn in her arms.

He drove out to the house, parked in the front and rang the bell. She came to the door looking as if she’d just had a wrestling match with the Pillsbury Dough-boy—tendrils of her hair escaping a scarf that tied it back, something floury on her cheek, her apron stained pink here and there. She was drying her hands on a towel. “Lief!” she said. “You’re about the last person I expected to see!”

He nodded. “That’s because I said I would call. But—I got away without a number. If you’ll give me one, I’ll leave now, drive to the bar in town, call you and drive right back. So it doesn’t look like I’m imposing on—” He sniffed. “What is that wonderful smell?”

She smiled at him and he realized at once that it was really too easy to bewitch a chef—just smell her cooking and she was as good as captured.

“I’ve been baking. The rhubarb crop is in and apparently I’m the only person in a hundred square miles who can make a good rhubarb pie. And then there’s rhubarb jam.” She shrugged. “It was going to go bad if I didn’t.”

He almost swooned from the aromas. “Thank God you came to town,” he said.