Pretty as a Peach, Page 3

  Wavy brown hair a little too long but no, on second look, not really, and bright hazel eyes. Tanned face and cut cheekbones.

  His jaw is stubbled and locked hard.

  And… he’s glaring at me.

  CHAPTER 4

  Colt

  I am absolutely frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. Of all the negative thoughts I’ve had about Darby McCulhane over the last few weeks, I was not prepared to have every one of them just melt away the first time I met her because she’s so beautiful.

  Like she’s a knockout.

  A stunningly gorgeous creature.

  Definitely not what I’d stereotyped a female agronomist to look like.

  She has the most unusual shade of blonde hair I’ve ever seen.

  Or is it red?

  The early morning rays from the sun coming through the glass door almost make it seem as if her hair is glowing pinkish-gold. Maybe even the color of a ripe peach.

  I shake my head and blink my eyes. She stares back at me with eyes the color of a glacial lake, but they aren’t frosty in the slightest. Freckles are spattered over her nose and cheeks.

  We just stare at each other. It’s obvious she knows who I am. Just as I surely know who she is.

  I had hoped to avoid this confrontation, but I had stopped by the vet clinic when I saw Laken’s truck out front just to see what she was up to. She told me Darby and her daughter would be coming by this morning. The minute I heard that, I made a quick exit strategy just to avoid this very situation. I was not ready to come face to face with the woman who had become somewhat of an enemy to me even though we didn’t know each other at all.

  “Why are you two just staring at each other?” a small voice says, and my gaze drops to the little girl standing in front of Darby.

  Laken had told me at some point in passing conversation that the kid’s name was Linnie and she looks exactly like her mother. Same strawberry-gold hair, blue eyes, and freckles. Her blue eyes are magnified times ten by the thick glasses she’s wearing. As if on cue, she pushes them up her nose with her index finger.

  She’s staring at me with open hostility, which takes me aback, but then she turns to level the same glare at her mom as she waits for an answer to her question.

  Her mother doesn’t answer, so I’m prompted to break the silence. “I’m Colt Mancinkus. Laken’s younger brother.”

  My gaze goes back to Darby and I can tell by the way her eyes go round in surprise she didn’t actually know who I was. Her cheeks turn red as it dawns on her I might not exactly be happy to meet her. I’m quite sure Jake filled her in on my reaction to her grant application because I sure showed my butt to him the day I confronted him about it.

  Before the situation can get any more embarrassing, we’re saved as Laken comes in from the back. Her voice is a combination of surprise and wariness as she takes us all in, just standing there staring at each other in silence. “Oh… Hey… I see y’all have met.”

  Darby seems to be frozen in place, probably feeling as uncomfortable as I do. And the best way to alleviate this awkwardness is for me to implement my original exit strategy.

  I give a polite nod to Darby. When I do the same to Linnie, she just rolls her eyes at me. “It’s nice to meet you both, but I’ve got to get going.”

  I start to walk past the two girls even though Laken calls behind me, “Colt. Don’t go just yet.”

  I don’t even bother to turn around and look at my sister. No way in hell I want her to facilitate some kumbaya meeting between Darby and me. I just call over my shoulder as I open the door to walk out, “Sorry, but I’ve got things to do. Catch y’all later.”

  Just before the door swings shut behind me, I think I hear Darby say something like, “Take these boxes, Linnie.”

  I can imagine her handing off all the Sweet Cakes boxes she had been carrying to her daughter. In my wild imagination it’s so she can follow me out to talk. I make haste toward my truck, which is parallel parked in front of the clinic right behind Laken’s. Escape is close as I open the driver’s door, but I’m stopped by Darby’s voice calling out, “Colt… can you talk for a minute?”

  With a sigh, I shut the door and step back onto the sidewalk to face Darby. I grimace over the fact she looks even more beautiful in the sunlight, and I don’t want to have any positive feelings toward this woman right now. It’s easier to be mired in the negativity.

  Still, I manage to put a bland yet polite smile on my face. “What’s up?”

  She studies me for a moment as if trying to figure out the best approach to take. Darby doesn’t know me at all, only that I’m not happy she applied for the grant. She also knows her family and mine may ultimately be merged at some point if Laken and Jake were to get married. This makes things a little sticky between us.

  Finally, she says, “I know you’re angry with me. And I’m sorry for that. Had I known you before I applied for that grant, things might have been different.”

  I can’t help raising a skeptical eyebrow. “So now that you know who I am and how important this grant is to my family, are you going to withdraw your application?”

  This takes her by surprise. She blinks repeatedly at me while her mouth opens and closes as she tries to answer. I put her on the spot, but I’m genuinely curious as to what her position might now be.

  I’m slightly disappointed when she says, “I don’t know. I still don’t know you and why the grant is so important. But I need you to know it’s important to me as well.”

  I can’t help but scoff. “Yes, because you need to write a paper about it. I’m sure you must be in a very dire situation.”

  She narrows those beautiful eyes at me, which are now very, very frosty. “It may not be dire, but it goes directly to my livelihood. I need this degree in order to provide a good life for my daughter and me.”

  I wish she wouldn’t have brought her kid into it because that is actually something that would pull at my heartstrings if I let it. I’ve got to stay focused, though, on the fact my family and our farm is more important than any need that she may have. Before I can tell her that, she asks me, “What exactly would you use the grant for?”

  I wasn’t prepared for this question, and I haven’t discussed my plans for a winery with anyone. I think the fear of failure has me hesitant to even voice my plans out loud. Ridiculous, I know, but there it is.

  I start to tell her it’s none of her business, but she steps in closer and lowers her voice. Putting a hand on my arm, she says, “I’d be glad to help you with whatever project you have.”

  There’s no stopping the sarcastic bubble of a laugh that wells up. “And just how much farming experience do you have?”

  I know the answer to this already as Laken had told me enough about Darby McCulhane. She grew up on a commercial farm, which was mostly mechanized production. I doubt she’s ever put her hands in the dirt before.

  My surly attitude is not appreciated. Her hand drops from my arm, and she takes a step back while lifting her chin in an aloof manner. She doesn’t reply to my question. “Well, whatever it is you’re doing, I wish you the best of luck. And I wish you luck on the grant as well.”

  My jaw locks tight. I can’t wish her luck back because I might jinx myself and not get the grant. And that would be unthinkable.

  Darby stares at me for a moment. When she realizes I’m not going to wish her luck back, she understands I’m being a complete jackass. She gives me a curt nod before turning on her heel. A strange sensation bubbles up within me, and I realize I’m being swamped with regret over my manners. My mother raised me better than this. Before I can stop myself, I’m calling out, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a jerk about this.”

  Darby whips around to face me, her face awash with surprise, but hesitant to believe my words.

  I take a step toward her, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “I just take all of this very personally since it’s my family’s livelihood and has been that way for eight generati
ons.”

  Darby’s eyebrows raise upward, and she whistles through her teeth. “Eight generations?”

  I nod with a smile. “We were deeded the land from the King of England.”

  Darby steps in and tilts her head, lifting her chin slightly. “Seriously… what are you going to use the grant for?”

  My eyes cut over to the clinic door as if I expect Laken to be leaning out and eavesdropping. I don’t see her, so I turn back to Darby and decide to let her in on it. “I’d like to plant grapes. I want to open a winery on Mainer Farms.”

  There is no mistaking the look of respect on Darby’s face. “Now that sounds like a cool plan. Have you ever grown grapes before?”

  I give a shake of my head. “I’ve done a lot of research, and I talked to a man who owns a winery a couple of counties over yesterday. I feel confident I can do it.”

  Darby nods in what seems to be agreement in my abilities even though she doesn’t know me from Adam. “Well, I’d be glad to talk about the sciences behind it anytime you want. I’ve actually got a good friend I completed my master’s program with who works at a vineyard out in California if you want me to put you in touch with him.”

  This is all kind of weird. Ten minutes ago, this woman was as close to a mortal enemy as I had, and now she’s offering me help on starting a vineyard. Well, not to help but at least to advise. Proves to me Darby McCulhane is good people despite my initial perception about her.

  Beautiful and good people. Quite the combination, and it means I can’t stay mad at her.

  CHAPTER 5

  Darby

  I do a slow pace up and down the heavily scuffed tile floor in the Department of Agriculture building. I received a surprising and unexpected phone call two days ago that the expansion grant board had a tough time deciding between my application and Colt’s. They asked me to come to Raleigh for a formal interview. While I have not seen or talked to Colt since our first meeting four days ago, I can only assume he received the same request.

  I’m not pacing because I’m nervous. It’s just how I’ve always been… unable to sit still for any length of time. I’m not in the slightest bit worried about this grant because Jake doesn’t actually need it. When I boil it all down, the application process is what’s most important to my thesis.

  The door to the boardroom where I was instructed to be at ten o’clock this morning opens, and I turn to face whoever may be coming out. I have no clue who’s going to be interviewing me today—whether it’s one person or several. Clasping my hands placidly in front of me, I put a confident smile on my face.

  To my surprise, Colt Mancinkus steps out of the boardroom. The minute his eyes land on me, an easy smile comes to his face.

  He pulls the door shut behind him and says, “I take it they’re interviewing you next?”

  My return smile is just as easy. “And I take it you just had your interview.”

  Colt takes a few steps toward me and lowers his voice as if to conspire. “It was a piece of cake.”

  I lean in toward him and give a mischievous wink. “Well then, perhaps you’ll share some pointers with me.”

  Colt lets out a deep, rich laugh of amusement. It makes his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners as they sparkle with brilliance. Frankly, it amps up his hotness factor. “Not about to give you any help for this grant, Miss McCulhane.”

  I didn’t expect him to give me any help, and it’s all in good fun right now. While we’re both chuckling, I take a moment to really look at Colt. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a gray and red plaid flannel shirt. He’s got on cowboy boots and a thick brown leather belt with a large silver belt buckle. The only thing missing that would make him look more cowboy than farmer is a cowboy hat, but it would be a travesty to cover up that thick, wavy hair.

  I compare his attire to mine, and I realize I’ve made a very crucial mistake in this interview already. Colt looks every bit like a farmer from North Carolina. I’m wearing a black business pantsuit with four-inch stiletto heels and a cream silk blouse under my jacket. I look like I’m ready to attend a banker’s meeting or something, and I know deep within my heart I’ve put myself at a disadvantage dressing this way.

  To my surprise, Colt gives a nod to the boardroom and says, “There are four board members in there. They’re all nice, and my interview took about fifteen minutes. They’re just going to ask you the reason for the application and some more details about how you intend to use it. Nothing you can’t handle.”

  My chin pulls in as I blink at Colt’s magnanimous gift of information. “Thank you. That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”

  Colt just shrugs and puts one hand in his pocket. “I figure what will be will be. It does no good to worry about it. As my pap told me yesterday, all I can do is try my best.”

  “Now that sounds like some great advice,” I tell him. “And I need to get by Chesty’s to meet your grandpa. Laken and Jake have told me a lot about him.”

  Colt nods and smiles in a way that makes my belly flutter a little. “Come on by Saturday if you want. I’ll be working and will gladly buy you a beer.”

  “You work at Chesty’s?”

  “It’s a long story, but the condensed version is I need the money,” Colt tells me without an ounce of bitterness or hardship in his voice. More like steely determination, and that intrigues me. “I’ll fill you in over a beer. Promise.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  The boardroom door opens once again, and we turn to look that way. A middle-aged woman with a blonde bob peeks out, her eyes first going to Colt and then to me. “Miss McCulhane?”

  “That’s me,” I tell her pleasantly. I grab my purse from the bench where I had set it earlier. Hitching it over my shoulder, I walk toward the woman.

  “Knock ’em dead,” Colt calls out. I level a grin back at him over my shoulder, marveling how we have suddenly become friends even though we’re both competing for the same grant and Colt was pretty bent out of shape about it.

  I’m a little flustered as I walk into the boardroom, again not because I’m nervous about this interview but because that short conversation with Colt has thrown me off a little. There’s no doubt Colt was being all neighborly just now, but there’s also no doubt we were flirting a little bit. This is confusing to me as flirting is probably the last thing in the world I want to do with the man. And yet, it had just come out of me so naturally.

  I give a small shake of my head, and walk down to the end of a long conference room table where the blonde woman points. After I take a seat, they introduce themselves. I nod with a polite smile to each of them.

  Then the questions begin. They spend a few minutes going over some of the details in my application, focusing in on the fact I intend to split the orchard into three parts and use different applications of micronutrients, so I can figure out the best method to increase the yield and quality. I can tell my scientific approach is intriguing to them.

  “And what exactly is your experience with farming?” one of the board members asks me; a tall, thin man with slicked-back gray hair and a tan, weathered face. I imagine he farmed for many years before becoming a board member at the Department of Agriculture.

  I give a little cough to clear my throat, putting my hands on the conference room table where I clasp them loosely. “I grew up on a large farm in Iowa. We mostly produced corn but also some wheat and soybeans. My bachelor and master’s degrees are in agronomy, and I’m in the process of completing my PhD in the same field.”

  The board members nod and jot down some notes.

  The blonde woman, who introduced herself as Belinda Caldwell, gives me a challenging look. “Does this grant, and the planned peach orchard, have anything to do with you getting your PhD?”

  I’m nodding in full disclosure before she even finishes her question. “I’m focusing part of my thesis on the orchard. The grant application will also be a part of it.”

  Miss Caldwell nods, jots something down, and looks back to
me. “And what are your plans after you get your degree? Or after you get the orchard planted?”

  “I intend to stay at Farrington Farms for several months after the planting. But I’m also going to apply to some companies that specialize in crop sciences. There are several good ones right here in Research Triangle Park, but I would be applying to some in other states as well.”

  They asked this question because they want to get an idea of my commitment to the project, so I add on, “Before I leave, though, I would oversee hiring an operations manager to take my place in managing the orchard. It is a long-term project for Farrington Farms that we do not intend to give up.”

  One of the other board members gives a slight cough to grab my attention. When I cut my eyes his way, he asks, “Why is your project for the peach orchard more important to the community than Mr. Mancinkus’ project to open a vineyard on Mainer Farms?”

  This question does catch me by surprise because it has nothing to do with how the grant should be awarded. And I cannot even think to lie, but give them the most honest answer I can. “I don’t believe the peach orchard is more important to the community than the vineyard. If you are going strictly by community standards, I believe the Mainer Farms’ grant application should be given a higher consideration than mine. I understand they’ve been farming the land for eight generations, and I’ve been living in Whynot, North Carolina for all of two weeks. I have no standing in this community. My commitment is only but words I can give you. Mainer Farms has real history, and I expect it has a direct impact on the economy in the area.”

  Miss Caldwell blinks at me in surprise. She tilts her head and says, “I have to tell you, Miss McCulhane, you were actually our top contender coming into this interview process. You sure you want to stick to that answer?”