Artist Amelia Britton battles her older brother for the right to remain on the family farm—their inheritance after their parents’ tragic deaths—she faces a looming mortgage, weather threatens to destroy her crops, and the man she secretly loves only sees her as Craig’s little sister.
After serving his country in Afghanistan, Lucas Dwyer expected to return home to his family’s farm, but the bank foreclosed. Undeterred, he begins combining-for-hire to support his younger sister in college. His best friend convinces him to discourage local guys from dating Amelia. Craig wants her back in the city, farming is too hard for a woman alone. Only one problem—Lucas has fallen in love with Amelia.
With family, the bank, and the weather conspiring against them, can Amelia and Lucas ever hope to grow the love blooming between them?
Karen slid the door open.
Gentleman Jack squirmed into an attentive sit on the floor beside Lia. Though he was a bird dog, he often imitated a guard dog. One twice his size. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close for a hug. The last thing she needed was pity from Lucas. Jack would help her put on a brave front.
The moment the door moved fully aside, Lucas rushed in. Jack raced over and danced at his feet, following Lucas to her as if to say, Thank God you’re here. I don’t know what else to do with her.
Lia dropped to a cushion on the floor, sat cross-legged, and motioned for Lucas to sit on the one facing her. Hope danced a nervous cha-cha in her stomach.
She was a woman—who wanted a man, who wanted her—just for who she was.
Her heart danced pirouettes and high leaps in a ballet where she was a ballerina and Lucas, her cavalier.
“You need to get this through your head. I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” she said huskily.
Once outside, Lucas let go of a deep breath. It was one thing to have a poker face, but quite another to have a poker voice.
With Craig worried about Amelia, rightly so after the events of the day, Lucas considered the best way to express his feelings for Amelia to her brother. To blurt out, “I love your sister,” would be weird.
“If I say, ‘I love your sister and want to marry her,’ he’ll laugh his ass off, or worse yet, when he finds out what just transpired, he’ll want a duel at dawn. How did a man born and raised in the country come to equate vast open spaces, glorious sunsets, and fresh everything with an inferior lifestyle?”
“Are you speaking to me, young man?” An older man approached on the sidewalk. His cane tapped against the pavement as he walked.
“No, sir. Talking to myself.”
“Crazy are you?” the man asked as he continued walking.
“Continue on, then,” the man said as he passed. “Try telling her about it rather than talking to strangers.”