Team Bride (7 page)

“Then may we come? Next week Friday?”

He scratched his neck as he glanced at her.
 

Classic evasive body language. “Or not, if you don’t want us to. I can think of somewhere else.” Not sure where, but this wasn’t a good sign.

“I’m not sure kids will find my place all that interesting. It’s just a farm. Nothing special.”

“Corbin, I’m sorry for asking.” She shot a look at him. Dare she say more? If they were ever to have a real relationship, yeah. “I asked to see your place before and you put me off. Is there something I should know?”

His smile looked forced. “I did, didn’t I?”

She waited.

“It’s just... kind of rundown. My grandfather left it in a mess and I’m working at fixing it up as I can, but it takes time. Time and money.”

What was she supposed to make of that? “Everything takes time and money. Oh, and energy.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I... I like you, Sarah. A lot. I didn’t expect to want to spend so much time with you. More to the point, I didn’t expect you to agree to go out with me more than once.”

Whoa. Sarah’s bike wobbled. She hit the brakes then dropped both feet to the paved path. The self-assured prankster didn’t have all the confidence that seemed to ooze from his pores?

Corbin glanced over his shoulder then turned in a tight circle back to her. “Sarah?” He lowered his bike to the ground and straddled the front tire of hers, watching her. His hands covered hers on the handlebars as he took a deep breath, those blue eyes serious for once. “I think I’m falling in love.”

“You-you are?” She hated that her voice came out in a squeak. He wouldn’t joke about this, would he? He joked about everything else.

His thumbs rubbed the backs of her hands. “I know this sounds presumptuous, but you need to know I’m a farmer. My grandfather left me that piece of land because he knew I always identified with it.” He cracked a grin. “And because I was his only grandson. It’s not a fancy piece of land, and the house isn’t that great, but it’s mine, and I’m not leaving it.”

This sounded like either a warning or a lead-in to a marriage proposal. She searched his face. More like a warning. This was his vulnerability.

Sarah extracted one hand and cupped his jaw. “I’d like to see your farm, Corbin.” If he’d given her a warning, she needed to know what it entailed.

He leaned against her fingers slightly, and for a second she thought he might close the gap and kiss her. He didn’t. “Want to finish this ride and then drive out? It’s almost halfway to Castlebrook.”

If she married this man, she’d be another thirty minutes from work, a long drive on icy rural roads. If she married this man. Now who was getting ahead of herself?

“I’d like that.”

He brushed his lips across her forehead, and she nearly melted into a puddle. “Come on then. Race you back.” He set his bike upright and mounted.

“No fair. Your legs are a meter longer than mine.”

He grinned. “Excuses, excuses.”

* * *

Corbin watched Sarah in his rearview mirror as her car followed his truck down the rutted driveway. He parked beside the house and waved her to the spot beside him.

What would it be like to have her drive in every afternoon after teaching her classes? She’d taken time to change into jeans and a peach sweater after their ride. Did she wear jeans to work? He opened her car door and she slid out, pushing sunglasses up onto her forehead and securing her long blond hair.

His breath hitched. There was nothing like seeing her on his turf — literally — to send his imagination wild. But before he could cut its tether, he needed to read her as she met his life. “Ready for the penny tour?”

Sarah nodded as she glanced around. Her eyes lingered on the house. Had she already catalogued the drooping roof over the veranda and the crooked steps? He always used the door around back. Safer, for one thing.

Her gaze met his. “Sure.”

Corbin took her hand and steered her away from the house. First things first. “A lot of the farm is the way Grandpa left it. I’ve been making some improvements here and there as I’ve had time.” Would she see the potential? Or only that it was rundown?

“What do you think my class will like to see?”

So she was making this trip a two-fer. Corbin exhaled. He’d play along.
 

They stopped in front of the chicken house. “These are always a favorite. Of course, there aren’t any cute fluffy babies this time of year. You could bring them back in spring for that.” If she’d ever want to return. “Baby chicks, piglets, lambs... enough cuteness to make your eyes bleed.”

Sarah ran her free hand down the wire mesh. “That will turn all my students into vegetarians for sure.”

“Not usually. Given a balanced worldview, kids usually figure things out. Besides, most of them are addicted to chicken strips and hamburgers. It doesn’t hurt for them to know where those come from.” She hadn’t ordered vegetarian at the Water Wheel, had she? No. Chicken Cordon Bleu. Whew.

“So, those birds.” Sarah pointed into the pen. “They’re headed for nugget land?”

“Nope. The meat birds are already sold or in the freezer. Those are my layers.”

“Layers?” She looked up at him.

“They lay eggs, which I sell to Loco-to-Go and a couple of stores.”

Sarah nodded and turned away. “What else?”

He showed her the pasture where the pigs rooted, surrounded by an electric fence. Hmm. He’d have to make sure the kids understood not to touch that. Over the knoll, the sheep pasture. This year’s lambs had already been sent to the abattoir, and the young pigs wouldn’t be much longer. The horses followed them along the corral.

“No cows? And here I thought they were a farm staple.”

“Grandpa kept an old milk cow. She’s over in the far pasture with this year’s calf.”

“Interesting. I’m not seeing what will keep the children’s attention for long, though they’ll like the horses.”

How about her own? He wished he could see what was going on behind those deep brown eyes.

“Kids like to run and play and experience nature. At least I sure did.” Maybe they needed more structure. Corbin pointed to the area behind the house. “Let me show you the garden and orchard.”

She fell into step beside him again, her fingers still tangled in his. “What kind of fruit trees?”

“Apples. Several heritage varieties and some newer ones, too. We’re in the midst of picking.” He reached up, plucked a Honeycrisp from a tree, rubbed it on his T-shirt, and handed it to her.

Sarah took a bite, removing a chunk of the red skin and white flesh. Her eyes widened. “Wow, that’s good.”
 

Corbin grinned. “They’re so much better fresh than when they’ve been packed in a controlled-atmosphere cooler for months.” At the side of the orchard, he pointed out the garden area. “Pretty much everything is off now. I’ve still got some tomatoes and greens in the hothouse to send fresh produce into town until the frosts are heavier.” Thankfully he’d run the tractor and rotovator through the garden last week, tilling in the hay he’d used as mulch as well as the weeds that had been left.

“How many people work for you out here? All this looks like it needs a full crew.”

Is this where he told her he didn’t really have a life? “Just me, most of the time. I have someone a couple of mornings a week through the summer to help with the weeding.”

She turned to face him. “Really?”

Better be honest. “That’s all I can afford at the moment. I’m trying to do some repairs, too. Grandpa let things slide the last few years.” Last few decades, really.

“It must keep you busy.” She crunched into the apple.

“It does.” He eyed her. Was she wondering how she might fit in? “But I love it. I can’t imagine living anywhere else with any other career.”

“You’re not kidding, are you?”

Corbin grinned. “Quite a shock, eh? Yep, I can be serious. And this is one of those times.” Should he take her in his arms and show her he could be serious about two things at once? Maybe better not.

Her gaze around the orchard seemed more speculative.

He held his breath.

“Okay. Any thoughts on what will keep my students’ attention here for a couple of hours?”

Corbin dared to breathe. “I was thinking... I have an old cider press. Think the kids might like to make apple juice? They could each take a liter bottle home.”

“Really?” Sarah turned to him with a smile. “That sounds like the ticket. Now we just need to pick a date.”

He’d picked one already. Her.

Chapter 8

Sarah followed Corbin into his farmhouse, a classic style with dormer windows above the front porch. The kitchen floor was covered with ancient pitted linoleum and the cupboards looked to have been made with plywood, but renovators paid good money for salvaged sinks like the one under the six-paned window.

He stood in the middle of the space, hands fisted at his sides, staring past her. Nervous. Vulnerable.

“Wow, Corbin, you have so much potential here.”

His eyes latched onto hers like a drowning man might grab a life ring. “You think?” A lilt of hope.

“So much character. Such good bones.”

“I haven’t had time to do much inside yet. I’ve been focused on getting the farm to pay for itself. I thought I might start on the house over the winter, but I’m not even sure where to begin.”

Sarah had watched enough HGTV to have an answer for that. “Is the foundation solid?”

That cut off his words. He closed the few steps between them then reached for both her hands. “I don’t know. Is it?”

Her breath hitched. He wasn’t talking about the house anymore. She clutched his fingers. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not asking you to marry me. I know it’s much too early for that.”

No kidding. Sarah swallowed hard.

“But, well, this is what you’re up against.” He disengaged his hands and looped them loosely around her waist. “Do you want to keep moving forward and see where we end up? Or do you want to run while the running’s good? Farm life isn’t for everyone.”

Someone must have hurt him. Who would have guessed his bravado masked such insecurity? She slid her hands up his chest and felt his muscles tighten before she cupped his face between both hands. “I haven’t seen any reason to run yet,” she whispered.

His eyes asked permission as he gathered her more tightly in his arms then tugged her against himself. “Sarah...”

She tipped her face to his and closed her eyes as his lips caressed hers, softly at first then with more intensity. How long had she been waiting for this? Possibly her entire life.

* * *

Corbin cradled Sarah against his chest and deepened the kiss. Thrill at her acceptance — no, her matching desire — shivered through him. This moment would change his life forever. He knew it clear down to his toenails.

Sarah. She’s the one.

It would be easy, so unbelievably easy, to forget everything but her in this moment. He lived far from the road, far from town. There was zero chance in the world anyone would come in his driveway and discover them here.

But, no. That wasn’t the next course to lay on the foundation they’d built thus far. He managed to remove his mouth from hers and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder with a groan. “Oh, Sarah.”

She held him tightly as their breathing slowed in unison. “Corbin, I—”

He feathered his lips down her throat. “Yes, fair lady?”

“I want you to kiss me again.”

“Gladly.” But he’d keep better control this time. He tasted her mouth and sealed it possessively with a kiss then took a step back, catching her hands in his.

Sarah’s eyes blinked open, looking a little dazed.

He probably looked the same. He trailed his fingers through her hair to smooth the muss he’d made, and she leaned into his touch. “Sarah, I love you.” Had he ever spoken sweeter words?

She met his gaze, brown eyes filled with wonder. “I love you, too.”

He’d certainly never heard anything sweeter.

“Want to stay for supper? I have burgers, and we can fire up the grill.” She’d have to leave soon after, though. The temptation was going to kill him.

“I’d like that.” She smiled tremulously. “Will you show me the rest of the house first?”

Corbin took a deep breath. Bathroom. Bedrooms. He couldn’t do it. “You go on and have a look, and I’ll get food started.”

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he smoothed his thumb over them.

“Go ahead. Snoop wherever you like. The stairs are just off the living room.” He turned her and gave her a tiny nudge in the right direction.

“Okaaay.” She glanced over her shoulder before ambling into the other room. Her hand slid across the antique oak table then she disappeared through the archway.

Corbin dared to breathe. Pretty sure he’d tossed his boxers in the laundry hamper and made his bed. She might find a layer of dust in some of the rooms, but not much out of place.

Her footsteps halted, and he forced himself to lean back against the counter rather than check what had caught her attention.
God? Is this for real? What have I done to deserve her?

A woman’s love wasn’t deserved; he knew that. No more than God’s love was.
Thank You, Jesus.

The stairs creaked as she ascended, and Corbin turned to his fridge. He’d cooked up a big pot of potatoes yesterday, enough to make hash browns all week. He could make a big salad with lettuce from the greenhouse and some of the ripe tomatoes sitting on the counter. He’d picked up buns... yeah, he was good. No dessert, but then he hadn’t expected to invite her out today. He’d planned to put that off for a really long time.

Corbin began preparations as he listened to Sarah move around upstairs. Seldom-used doors creaked, and so did the oak plank hallway. Three bedrooms. The bathroom. Her footsteps descended then moved into the laundry room that included the main floor bath.

He had the salad assembled before she reappeared in the kitchen.

“Oh, Corbin. I love your house.”

He blinked. “Really? It’s old. Rundown.” Not what she was used to, from what he’d seen.

“But it has so much character.” She came closer, stopping beside him. “So much history.”