A Risk Worth Taking (2 page)

“Glad
you’re back. Been way too quiet around here without you,” Casey said, finally
letting me go and straightening his shirt.

Pots
banged together in the kitchen and someone—a male—let out a string of curses
followed quickly by an apology. I gave an exaggerated eye roll. “You were
saying?”

Casey
grinned. “Guess Mazie’s getting the newbies to do the dishes again.”

“Must
mean food’s almost ready,” Frank said, rubbing his hands together and setting
off toward the kitchen.

Before
I could move to follow, Casey reached out and wound his arm around my neck,
pulling my cheek against his collarbone. But I was too familiar with Casey’s
tricks to be caught. I ducked out before he could yank me close enough to press
his knuckles to my scalp.

“You
get faster up there in the big city?” he asked.

“Or
you got slower living down here in the country,” I shot back.

“You
two are relentless,” Frank said.

“Not
our fault,” Casey protested.

“How
do you figure?” Frank asked.

“The
way I see it, if you and Dean hadn’t stuck us together since we were in diapers,
we might’ve been able to curb the sibling rivalry long enough to be nice to
each other.”

“So
it’s my fault, then?” Frank demanded.

I
stifled a smile. It was an old argument between them—one that both men seemed
to enjoy since neither ever got legitimately mad at the other over it.

Frank
went on, his voice rising, “I should’ve let you be raised by strangers instead
of your own uncle? Your own flesh and blood?”

“Of
course it’s your fault, Frank,” Casey said, the details too long gone for him
to be ruffled by the reference to his parents’ accident. “But I wouldn’t have
it any other way. You and Summer and the rest—you’re my family.” He punched the
older man lightly on the arm and Frank scowled, but I saw the expression
smoothing into something like affection as Frank turned away.

I
exhaled, some of the tension inside me melting off at being surrounded by
people I loved. They might not be blood, but Frank was the only uncle I’d ever
known, Casey more like a brother. I wouldn’t trade them for anyone.

As
I stepped through the doorway, my eyes fell on the empty seat at the far end of
the table. The one right next to my dad’s usual spot. A sharp pang shot through
my gut but I shook it off. I wouldn’t think of her now. Not with all the hustle
and bustle and familiar faces waiting. I could think of it in the quietness of
my bed tonight—and every night after if needed.

“Summer!”
Mazie, our housekeeper, pushed past the others crowding the kitchen and hurried
forward, holding her arms out. I stepped into the circle of her arms and
inhaled the scent of garlic and dish soap that was Mazie Pagonis.

The
older woman squeezed tight and then quickly pulled away with a frown. “You’ve
lost weight, Paidi mou,” she said, her Greek accent faded after so many years
on Virginia soil.

I
smiled. Paidi mou, in Greek, meant ‘my child.’ It had been Mazie’s pet name for
me since I was little. “I’m fine,” I assured her.

Mazie
clucked her tongue, going on as if I hadn’t spoken. “You’re wasting away. Good
thing I made pasta tonight. It will stick to your insides. Casey!”

Behind
her, Casey jumped. “What?”

“Carry
the bread rolls to the table.” Casey moved toward the counter but Mazie stopped
him with a reproachful look. “Wash your hands first.”

“Yes,
ma’am.” Casey switched directions, heading for the sink.

“It
smells delicious,” I told her.

“Good.
I expect you to eat like it,” she said.

Mazie
hurried away, rattling off instructions to the nearest body to help her with
the heavy lifting. Pans and platters were lifted from the oven by willing arms,
all belonging to hungry crew unlucky enough to have arrived early for the meal.
Mazie didn’t believe in idle hands.

Dean
Stafford employed only one year-round, full-time man to help oversee the
affairs of Heritage Plantation—although Frank Connors could make enough noise
for ten men on his own—but many part-timers came and went during the growing
season. And the standing rule was that if you were here at closing time and
your belly was empty, there was always a place at the table for you. It wasn’t
a surprise most of them made sure to be here come quittin’ time. Mazie’s
cooking wasn’t something to miss.

“Hey,
Summer,” someone called.

“Hey,
Joe,” I said, smiling and waving as a stocky Puerto Rican carried a steaming
dish to the table for Mazie. His dark hair had been buzzed short, something he
always did in the summertime. “How are Leslie and the kids?” I asked.

“Jealous
I stayed here for dinner,” he said with a wicked grin. I laughed. “Leslie’s
working at that new jewelry store in town. She says you should stop in and say
hi. Says it’s been too long since you two caught up.”

“I
will. I haven’t seen her since … last Thanksgiving.”

He
set the dish down and lowered himself into a chair beside it. “Has it been that
long? Huh.” I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t press it. “Time flies,” was all he
said.

I
let it go.

When
I’d come home for Christmas break and found out about my parents, I’d shut
myself off from everyone in order to deal with the shock of their divorce. I
hadn’t really reached out to anyone from my old life since. Now, there was no
escaping it. I’d known that when I’d come home. Still, I would probably put it
off as long as possible. Even with Leslie, my best friend from high school. I
loved her, but that girl asked way too many questions. I wasn’t ready with
answers just yet.

By
the time my dad came through the back door, black earth covering his hands, I’d
greeted everyone and given hugs. Not a single person mentioned my absent mother
or asked me why I’d come home instead of staying in the big city like I’d
always told them I planned. I appreciated them for that.

“Dean
Stafford, you better wash that grub off before going near my dinner table,”
Mazie said, shaking a sauce-covered spoon at Dad.

Dad
wiggled his fingers menacingly, and Mazie backed away muttering Greek phrases
better left un-translated. Dad laughed as he went to the sink and stuck his
hands under the water.

Conversation
flowed between mouthfuls of pasta, everyone laughing and teasing and easy in
each other’s company. It was oddly un-awkward considering it was my first
company meal with the empty chair.

Around
a mouthful of garlic bread, I heard the screen door kick shut and shot Casey a
curious look. He didn’t answer, opting instead for another forkful of
casserole. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. I watched as Casey’s
gaze was drawn over my shoulder.

“Someone’s
late to the party,” I said, turning in my chair. I expected to see another
familiar face joining the group, someone I knew from past summers on the farm.
I was surprised to find a stranger instead, though that wasn’t what had my eyes
widening and my torso stuck in the swiveled position.

This
guy was not the usual farmhand variety. At least, not the kind they grew in the
foothills of southwestern Virginia. Definitely not from Grayson County.

He
was tall and lean, muscular in all the right places if his fitted white shirt
was any indication. His sandy brown hair was just long enough to fall onto his
forehead, making his face look younger than the rest of him. But those eyes,
blue and deep and full of knowledge—of what I didn’t know—were what held my
attention.
I bet they’re even better close up,
I thought
.
He
caught my gaze and held it for two beats before I realized I was obviously
staring. I broke away, but not before the rest of the table noticed our
exchange.

Out
of the corner of my eye, I saw Casey and Joe share a look that had me wanting
to reach over the table and knock the grin off both their faces. Heat rose to
my cheeks, and I made a show of cutting my food, carefully placing it on my
fork, and putting it in my mouth. The clink of my silverware echoed in the
stretched silence.

I
prayed my face wasn’t as red as it felt. Checking out a hot guy was one thing.
Doing it in front of my dad and all his boys was quite another.

“Ford,
‘bout time. You better get a plate before it’s gone,” Casey said, breaking the
silence. I sent him a grateful look from underneath my lowered lashes. He’d
tease me for it later, but he wasn’t letting me suffer for it now. I owed him
one.

“I’m
on it.” The voice that responded was low and held just a hint of humor. I
pretended it wasn’t on my account.

The
newcomer, Ford, made his way toward the stack of empty plates on the counter,
and conversation resumed, slowly at first but building quickly to the crescendo
of noise it’d been before. I tried to see where the new guy planned to sit,
uncomfortably aware of the empty chair next to me, but he went first to the
sink and ran soap and water over his hands.

I
took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Ignored Casey trying to wink at me.

“Look
at that,” Mazie said, with a pointed look at my father. “Washing his hands
without being asked. I want three more like him.”

Dad
scowled but Ford laughed, a deep-in-the-belly sound that made it difficult not
to turn and watch while you listened to it. “You better be careful what you
wish for. I’ve been told it’s hard enough handling one of me.”

Mazie
giggled. It made my brows raise. I’d never in my life heard Mazie giggle. I
looked at Casey but he was forking casserole into his mouth and ignoring me.
“You let me be the judge of that,” she said.

“Unless
you want the job?” Casey whispered at me across the table, wiggling his
eyebrows.

“I’ll
tell everyone here how you got that rash last fall,” I hissed back. He shut up.
Joe snorted and opened his mouth to say something but one look from Casey made
him think better of it.

I
went back to my dinner. Mazie appeared at my side, fussing at me to take a
second helping. Despite my resistance, another spoonful of food was deposited
onto my plate and Mazie walked off with a satisfied smile.

Casey
shook his head. “You’re going to weigh three hundred pounds by the end of the
year,” he said.

“Not
if I work it off beating the crap out of you.” Trading jabs with Casey was the
easiest way to recover from public embarrassment.

“That’s
a fight I’d like to see.” Ford’s tone was casual and friendly but something
about it—about him—made everything he said feel very … personal.

The
chair next to me scraped back and Ford sat down. I turned just as he scooted
forward, and, for a split second, our faces were only inches apart. I blinked,
startled by the closeness of the most striking gray-blue eyes I’d ever seen. I
was right. Definitely better close up.

“Oops.
Sorry.” He gave a lopsided grin and scooted himself back, putting a respectable
distance between us.

“It’s
okay,” I muttered.

Ford
turned his attention to his steaming plate and dug in. Across the table, Casey
grinned in a way that made me want to throat-punch him. He was enjoying this
way too much. Ass.

While
Ford ate, I tried not to ogle the parts of him that filled my peripheral. But
it was hard not to notice the broad shoulders and hard jawline. After a few
moments, he grinned and turned toward me. Feeling caught and determined to play
it off this time, I did the same.

“I’m
Ford.”  He stuck his hand out and I shook it, the gesture awkward when we were
sitting this close. Wow, he had big hands. Rough and calloused. What was his
job here? Shit, was I supposed to be saying something?

“Um,
hi.” My cheeks warmed all over again. I raised my chin, giving his hand an
extra-firm shake. “I’m Summer. I live here.” Smooth.

He
held my hand longer than necessary, but I didn’t pull away, wanting to beat
him.

Finally,
Ford retracted his hand from mine and picked up his fork, though he made no
move to eat “I know. Casey’s told me a lot about you.”

Without
the distraction of his touch, I regained my composure enough to manage a mock
glare across the table. “Is that right? Should I be worried?”

Not
that it mattered what Casey said about me. I’d left school to get away from a
lot of things about my life, including a guy. Especially a guy. I wasn’t
looking for another one. So who cared what this one thought?

“I
think where Casey’s concerned, you should always be worried,” Ford said and
despite my internal lecturing, I laughed.

“Hey
now,” Casey said. “You two have known each other three seconds and you’re
already ganging up on me? Dean, I want to file a complaint on the new guy.”

At
the far end of the table, my dad shook his head at Casey and then went back to
his conversation with Frank.

“You
work here?” I asked Ford. He nodded. “When did you start? I don’t remember
seeing you here for winter break.”