Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(87)

“Maybe we should talk after you’ve had a chance to shower.”

“No, we’re going to talk right now, Darla. We, you and I, aren’t going any further. We don’t fit. It wouldn’t work. It’s not what I want.”

“It’s a bit more than that,” she said, standing but keeping her distance as she wrinkled her nose. “There’s another woman in the picture. You were cheating on me with one of your employees.”

“That’s the thing, I wasn’t cheating on you because I haven’t made any kind of commitment to you, not even a slight, tiny, superficial commitment. None. At all. And you and I are not dating, not seeing each other, not getting more serious. We don’t want the same things, we’re never going to want the same things and I’m tired of this cat and mouse.”

“Then why did you lead me on?”

“Lead you on?” He frowned. “How did I do that?”

“You kissed me! You took me to dinner. You told me to visit any time I wanted to.”

“Aw, Jesus—when you first showed up here, I was open to the idea of dating a beautiful woman, so sue me. I checked you out while you were checking me out—but it never got off the ground. Darla, it worked for about a day. It isn’t working. We don’t even like the same things!”

“I’m willing to give you another chance,” she said. “Obviously you have to get rid of that female.”

“You’re amazing,” he said, laughing in spite of himself. “Does that usually work for you? That non-listening thing you’ve got going on? I don’t want another chance. I want us to part friends with the realization that we would have to have a lot more in common and like each other equally in order for there to be any kind of relationship beyond a very casual and very distant friendship. Apparently I don’t have enough ‘like’ in this equation because I’m not interested. No more dates, no more visits, no more talking about a future that is never going to happen.”

“Well,” she said, a tear coming to her eye. Tom suspected they were very well-trained tears. “That was blunt to the point of cruel.”

“That’s how it has to be, apparently. If you could let it go at I’m not interested, we could shake hands and say a pleasant goodbye.”

She seemed to shake a bit, like anger was coming to the surface. “What the hell kind of woman do you want?”

Big mistake, Darla, he thought. Big. “I want a woman who pitches in,” he said. “A woman who doesn’t sit and expect to be waited on while a seventy-four-year-old grandmother cooks and cleans and serves her. I want a woman who can pet the dog even if he gets a little hair on her expensive clothes. Someone who can feel special wearing boots that cost far less than a grand and I want a woman who eats, for God’s sake! How about a woman who isn’t trying to sell my family orchard out from under me and put my grandmother in a home? That would work.”

She was stunned silent for a second. Finally she said, “Oh. My. God!”

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “I’m going to shower while you gather your things together. Then I’ll carry all your luggage to your car for the last time, shake your hand or even give you a polite hug as I say, ‘Nice seeing you, drive safely.’ And then you’re going to leave and we’re both going to get on with our lives. Is there any part of that you don’t understand?”

Another moment of silence. Then, “You are a beast. I had no idea. I barely escaped you!”

“I’ll be about fifteen minutes,” he said. “You take your time.” And he left her.

As he showered, he thought one alternative for her, if she wanted to make a dramatic exit, was to throw her stuff in a suitcase, lug her own damn luggage down the stairs and burn rubber out of the orchard. Junior was on hand to make sure the gate would be closed behind her.

In the end, it didn’t happen that way, of course. Forty-five minutes later she found him in the kitchen and, true to form, all she carried was her small pocketbook. “I’m ready,” she said soberly.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be happy to get your luggage.”

As he loaded the last of the luggage into her trunk, he saw Junior near the barn and gave him a sign, pointing to the gate. Junior took his quad down the lane and opened it. Then Tom held the door for her as she got into her shiny car. He held out his hand and she took it.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Tom,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t fit into your plans. I’m very disappointed, in fact.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and said, “Drive carefully.” And he closed her door.

Then he watched the most superficial, manipulative woman he’d ever known leave his orchard.

* * *

When there was a knock at Nora’s door, it took her a while to answer. She had Fay on her hip. And there stood Maxie, holding a large container of something. “Oh, Maxie, why are you here?” she asked.

“A couple of reasons,” she said. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” she said, standing back.

Maxie went straight to the kitchen, just a few steps really, and put her soup on the counter. “I wanted to check on you, of course. And I brought you soup, though I really want you to come to the house for dinner tonight if you can… And I needed to leave the orchard—Tom was on a mission to send Darla away. I didn’t even want to be in the house.” She shook her head. “That girl…”