Teacher's Christmas Cowboy (Trinity Falls Sweet Romance - Icicle Christmas #5)

He shook it off and drove on. He was just wishing he could have bought the place, that was all.

There was nothing else there for him.

3

JARED

Jared woke up the next day with the same strange feeling in his rib cage, like something was tugging at him—pulling him back to the house on the edge of the woods.

He hurried through a shower and breakfast, so distracted that his father had to ask him more than once to pass the butter for his toast.

“Someone’s in a hurry this morning,” his mother remarked as he grabbed his jacket and headed out to his truck.

A little pang of guilt hit him as he pulled out onto the road when he realized that he hadn’t helped out with the dishes before leaving.

He and his brother Derek still lived at home. They both worked the family farm, and until Radcliffe put the cottage by the woods on the market, Jared had never had much reason to think of leaving.

But now that their brother Josh was back too, and the workers on his upcoming project were staying in the lower-level guest rooms, it was starting to feel like almost as much of a full house as it had been when they were kids. Josh and his daughter Scout weren’t living with them, but they were at the house every day, and the whole crew was eating Mom and Dad out of house and home and making a steady stream of dirty dishes and full laundry baskets.

Normally, Jared made a real effort to take on some of that burden, especially when there wasn’t much to do on the farm. But this morning he had just run out like he was shirking his self-appointed duties on purpose.

This will be quick. I’ll just talk to this guy and put him on the right path, he told himself. I’ll be home again in time to help Mom with the laundry, even though I left Derek to do the breakfast clean-up.

The curvy lane to the cottage unwound itself in front of him, and before he knew it, he was pulling up the gravel driveway and parking.

Jared swung out of his truck and headed for the front porch. Someone had taken out the mailbox at the entrance. The post was hanging halfway to the ground.

A woman opened the door before he reached the steps. She moved to the railing, wrapping what looked like a hand-knitted cardigan closer around herself as she did.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a clear, bell-sweet voice, squaring her shoulders.

She needn’t have bothered. This little scrap of a woman wasn’t going to intimidate anyone. But the way she held herself spoke of intensity and strength.

Something fierce in Jared reached out to her fearless soul, and he found himself lost in her gray eyes for a moment, blinking at her stupidly.

But he had come here to say something, hadn’t he?

“You just bought this house,” he said, nodding to himself, as if that part had been in question and he was pleased with himself for nailing it down.

“We moved in yesterday,” she said, tilting her head, and sounding just the slightest bit impatient.

The sound of another car pulling up had Jared turning around, hoping for the man of house. But it was just the mail truck.

“Well, I’m guessing you folks aren’t from around here,” Jared said, finding it easier to remember what he had come for now that he’d stopped looking at her for a minute. “There’s a nice fishing hole in the woods beside your house. Everyone around here uses it. We always have. You can’t just put up a fence and cut it off.”

He ventured to meet her eyes again. They were colder now, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

“That’s what you came here to say to me?” she asked after a moment.

“It is,” he said, crossing his arms in front of him and planting his feet so she would know he wasn’t going to disappear on her.

But her eyes darted to the side of him.

He turned again to see the mailman was standing there with a couple of envelopes in his hand, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Of course it was George Culpepper, who probably should have retired ten years ago and only stuck around to spread gossip. The whole town would know about Jared’s confrontation with the woman by this time tomorrow.

“Your, uh, box is all jammed up,” George said, helpfully stating the obvious, and holding out the envelopes for her.