“Great.” One word and his fifteen-year-old brother had managed to express just how much he resented being here. If Leif had it his way, he’d be in his room right now, playing video games, texting and making plans with the same messed-up kids that’d gotten him suspended three times so far this school year.
Tough luck.
“I want to make sure everything is accounted for this time.” Dane stood, hands on his hips, waiting for any indication that his brother was getting the message.
Leif glared at him. “Well, you’ve got the clipboard. You tell me.”
He shook his head, refusing to take the bait. “Here you go.” He handed the clipboard to his brother. “This barcode should match the ones on the boxes. And these specs, too.” Both things he’d told Leif the last time they’d received a shipment of jars. Had that stopped Leif from signing off on forty boxes of the wrong-sized jars? Nope.
Leif took the clipboard, but continued to glare at Dane. “I get it, okay? I messed up.”
“That’s not what this is about.”Not entirely. “This is your business, too. I was sixteen when I started working on the farm. You’re almost sixteen now, you’re old enough to work part-time and get a feel for the way things are done around here. I have faith in you and, for now, I’m only asking for a couple of hours a week.”
“A couple of hours?For now?” Leif shook his head. “Whatever. If I got arealsummer job, I’d get paid. I’m not getting paid for this.”
Dane kept his mouth shut. He’d been exactly like Leif at that age. This was when it helped to know how Leif thought. Things like pointing out they had a roof over their head, food to eat and that they didn’t want for a thing wouldn’t register with Leif. He figured cutting off his little brother’s internet or taking away the smartphone Leif had glued in his hand twenty hours a day would get through to him. Butactuallydoing those things would make Leif even more insufferable—something Dane couldn’t handle. Picking worthwhile battles had become a regular occurrence for Dane. He might not have signed up to parent his little brother, but since their father had decided to take an indefinite leave of absence from the family, it was up to Dane to step up.And bethe oneto bear the brunt of Leif’s temper—as always.
Dane had enough issues with their father without bringing Leif into things. Some were legitimate, others weren’t. But he didn’t have the patience to sort through which was which at the moment. Like it or not, Leif needed to learn about responsibility. As it was, he had none. When the school year ended and summer vacation started, Leif would have plenty of time on his hands. If his brother wasn’t occupied and productive, he’d wind up hanging out with the wrong crowd—again. Leif might not thank him for it now...Hell, he might never thank me for it. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t going to give up on his little brother the way their father had given up on...everything?Not going to happen.
“Allof these?” Leif asked, scanning over the paper, flipping the page, then eyeing the boxes stacked around the yard by the barn.
“Yes.” Dane had already checked off the order so he knew they were two boxes short. Hopefully, Leif would catch that, too. “Questions?”
“Yeah, like, why are you being such a di—”
“Leif.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You can get this done or insult me and go back to whatever it is you do in your room all day.” When Leif looked ready to set aside the clipboard, he added, “Minus your Wi-Fi and phone. Your call.”
“Seriously? That’s not a choice.” Leif shot him a final glare, then started matching boxes with the inventory list. “Whatever.”
One thing his little brother was teaching him? He wasn’t ready for fatherhood.
Dane headed for the barn, found the dolly and pulled it into the yard—ready to load up the boxes Leif marked with a red checkmark. He’d stacked five boxes onto the dolly when his gaze wandered to the main entry, an old truck lumbering slowly through the gate. A truck he knew.
TansyHill.Here?
He ran a hand along the back of his neck. Was he really surprised?
He wheeled one load of boxes into the barn, unloaded them quickly and went back for more. He started stacking boxes when the crunch of gravel alerted him to Tansy’s arrival.
“Hey,” Leif said, shooting a look at Tansy.
Dane nodded and took a deep breath before turning to face his neighbor and what would likely be an interesting and spirited conversation.
“You can’t be serious? Like I’d ever goanywhere with you.”
One look at Tansy and her razor-sharp words came back to him, just as clear as they’d been all those years ago. He could still hear the laughter in the high school gymnasium and see that smile on her face—that holier-than-thou smirk that immediately put him on the defensive even after all these years. For five seconds, it almost felt like hewasback at the homecoming pep rally, in the Honey High School gymnasium—holding an old borrowed boom box over his head with the entire school watching while she’d rolled her eyes at him and walked away. An all too familiar clenching twisted his stomach. Instead of continuing this stroll down worst-memories-ever lane, he needed to stop thinking about their awkward, embarrassing past and focus on the here and now.
Easier said than done.
Tansy looked harmless enough in her tan denim overalls, her thick auburn ponytail swinging in time with each step. In all his years, Tansy Hill was the only woman who had ever managed to make a ponytail seem sexy to him. He didn’t like admitting it, but she was. Sexy. And pretty, as always. Not that he’d ever say so. Besides, pretty or sexy or not, he knew that look. Tansy was a woman on a mission. The way she all but stomped across the gravel parking lot had him bracing for battle.Fine by me. Over the years, he’d learned the best way to disarm the woman was to distract, redirect and irritate. Turned out, it was surprisingly easy for him to do.
“Miss Hill. What a...surprise. You. Coming here.” He held his hand out in greeting, turning on the charm. “Nice overalls. Bees, huh?” He asked, nodding at the bee buttons adorning her overalls.
She glanced between him and the buttons, once and again, then said, “Mr. Knudson.” She shook his hand, her grip silky soft and surprisingly strong.
“I didn’t know they made bee buttons.” He upped his grip to match hers. “But you’d know.” It wasn’t enough that Tansy was a fanatical bee naturalist, all of her clothing had some sort of bee detail—always had. “You still have those rain boots with the bees all over them—?”
“Mr. Knudson.” She tried again, her grip tightening as she attempted to steer the conversation. “I was hoping you had a minute to discuss this morning’s paper?” She pulled her hand from his.
