know why this town bothers with a newspaper. Talk spreads like poison ivy. Trust me—you so much as walk down Main Ave with a girl, and the local busybodies will have you coupled up in no time. Dare to have dinner with her in public, and you might as well start ordering wedding invitations.”
Colton let out a laugh, then lifted his ax. “Don’t worry, don’t think I’ll be here long enough to give the gossip line any romantic fodder.”
Although he couldn’t help the dollop of a memory that dropped in just then—of Kate Walker standing next to him, fingers wrapped around that beater and cheeks rosy on either side of her smile. Morning sunlight had brushed gold streaks into her hair and dotted matching flecks in her eyes.
And there, just for a moment, all thought of ditching Iowa had thinned away into nothing.
But why? Because for a few minutes a pretty girl had made him forget about everything he’d lost in the past year? No, he wasn’t about to lose his focus. Get back to LA. Choose a writer. Get the book done. Figure out what’s next.
Seth’s phone rang out again, and this time he lifted it. “Sorry, probably the insurance company. Gotta take it, but I promise I’ll take my turn with the chopping after.” He moved away.
Logan lifted his ax. “Actually, Colt, speaking of your not being here long . . .” The sound of splitting wood erupted.
“Yeah?”
“My dad seemed older today. Don’t you think?”
“Bruises and a sling could do that to anyone.” But Logan had a point. Back in college, Colton used to think his friend’s dad looked exactly like John Wayne from those old westerns one of his foster dads used to watch. Same height and bulky build. Same etched face that seemed more laugh lines than wrinkles.
But this morning, he’d appeared . . . tired.
Colton swung his ax.
“Did you see Dad’s backyard? The tarp covering the roof? And apparently the depot he works at received more damage than anyplace in town. Then there’s this restaurant. I think Seth has it in his head that he’ll be opening up next week. But he’s got to rebuild a wall. Fix plumbing. Have an inspection.” Logan stilled. “There’s so much. Too much. And with campaign season heating up . . .”
Colton read the frustration in his friend’s eyes.
“I can’t stay.” Logan leaned one elbow on his ax. “But you could.”
Whoa, wait . “Logan—”
“My father needs help. Seth needs help. I’d stay if I could.”
But Colton couldn’t stay either. He had a book to write and a career to revive. He couldn’t put all that off to . . . what? Be a handyman in Nowhere, Iowa? Even if he did genuinely feel for Case and Seth and all the residents of this little town, he couldn’t. “Sorry, man. I don’t think . . . ” He fumbled for an excuse, settled for lifting his ax.
“Why not? What do you have in LA to go back to?”
The force of his ax burying itself into the tree shook through him, pain slamming up his bad shoulder.
And Logan’s words—stinging.
Of course I have things to go back to. His condo. What was left of his career.
Which is what?
The book project.
Which you could do from anywhere.
He looked at Logan again, took in the desperation clinging to his features. He was just trying to help his family. Which was so . . . Logan. How had the guy held on to his good streak after all he’d been through? Losing his mom and then just a few years later, so suddenly, his wife. Thrust into single parenthood while juggling his speechwriting career.
And it wasn’t just his family Logan reached out to. How many times over the years had he come through for Colton? Especially this past year, after the injuries. And he’d never once asked Colton to return a favor.
Until now.
The pain in Colton’s shoulder pulsed now. It’d be weepingfor ice by tonight. Nevertheless, he lifted his ax once more. And realized he didn’t have a choice.
“How could you not tell me, Rae?” Kate
Colton let out a laugh, then lifted his ax. “Don’t worry, don’t think I’ll be here long enough to give the gossip line any romantic fodder.”
Although he couldn’t help the dollop of a memory that dropped in just then—of Kate Walker standing next to him, fingers wrapped around that beater and cheeks rosy on either side of her smile. Morning sunlight had brushed gold streaks into her hair and dotted matching flecks in her eyes.
And there, just for a moment, all thought of ditching Iowa had thinned away into nothing.
But why? Because for a few minutes a pretty girl had made him forget about everything he’d lost in the past year? No, he wasn’t about to lose his focus. Get back to LA. Choose a writer. Get the book done. Figure out what’s next.
Seth’s phone rang out again, and this time he lifted it. “Sorry, probably the insurance company. Gotta take it, but I promise I’ll take my turn with the chopping after.” He moved away.
Logan lifted his ax. “Actually, Colt, speaking of your not being here long . . .” The sound of splitting wood erupted.
“Yeah?”
“My dad seemed older today. Don’t you think?”
“Bruises and a sling could do that to anyone.” But Logan had a point. Back in college, Colton used to think his friend’s dad looked exactly like John Wayne from those old westerns one of his foster dads used to watch. Same height and bulky build. Same etched face that seemed more laugh lines than wrinkles.
But this morning, he’d appeared . . . tired.
Colton swung his ax.
“Did you see Dad’s backyard? The tarp covering the roof? And apparently the depot he works at received more damage than anyplace in town. Then there’s this restaurant. I think Seth has it in his head that he’ll be opening up next week. But he’s got to rebuild a wall. Fix plumbing. Have an inspection.” Logan stilled. “There’s so much. Too much. And with campaign season heating up . . .”
Colton read the frustration in his friend’s eyes.
“I can’t stay.” Logan leaned one elbow on his ax. “But you could.”
Whoa, wait . “Logan—”
“My father needs help. Seth needs help. I’d stay if I could.”
But Colton couldn’t stay either. He had a book to write and a career to revive. He couldn’t put all that off to . . . what? Be a handyman in Nowhere, Iowa? Even if he did genuinely feel for Case and Seth and all the residents of this little town, he couldn’t. “Sorry, man. I don’t think . . . ” He fumbled for an excuse, settled for lifting his ax.
“Why not? What do you have in LA to go back to?”
The force of his ax burying itself into the tree shook through him, pain slamming up his bad shoulder.
And Logan’s words—stinging.
Of course I have things to go back to. His condo. What was left of his career.
Which is what?
The book project.
Which you could do from anywhere.
He looked at Logan again, took in the desperation clinging to his features. He was just trying to help his family. Which was so . . . Logan. How had the guy held on to his good streak after all he’d been through? Losing his mom and then just a few years later, so suddenly, his wife. Thrust into single parenthood while juggling his speechwriting career.
And it wasn’t just his family Logan reached out to. How many times over the years had he come through for Colton? Especially this past year, after the injuries. And he’d never once asked Colton to return a favor.
Until now.
The pain in Colton’s shoulder pulsed now. It’d be weepingfor ice by tonight. Nevertheless, he lifted his ax once more. And realized he didn’t have a choice.
“How could you not tell me, Rae?” Kate
Similar Books
