The farm truck flew up the driveway and skidded to a stop. Maggie squinted and held a hand over her brows, shielding her vision from the sun. “What the—?”
“Maggie!” Her mom hopped out like the freaking Energizer bunny on crack, brandishing a piece of paper over her head like some kind of award. “Look! Come look!”
She dusted off her hands and bolted to her mother’s side, her heart leaping. If Helen had backed out last minute… “What? What is it?”
“We’ve been awarded a grant. Some big league heavy hitter in New York paid off our debt and is letting us keep the farm.” She waved the paper again. “Some sort of new forgiveness program for little food-producing farms like ours. Can you believe it?”
No. She couldn’t believe it.
Not at all.
She snatched the letter out of her hand, skimming over it. Sure enough, she saw exactly what she expected to see. Benjamin Gale’s name on the letter. But…why would he do that? He’d done the very thing she’d asked him not to do. He paid her off.
After breaking her heart.
The anger and hurt rose up, choking her, but she forced a smile for her mother’s benefit, because now that he’d done it, there was no going back. Her parents got to keep the farm, which was great, but it had come from the man who’d ruined her…which was not so freaking great. “Wow. Go tell Dad. He’ll be so happy.”
“I know.” Her mother hugged her, and ran off for the house. “Glen!”
She let the smile fade as soon as her mom went inside. How dare he pay off her debt, as if that made up for all the lies he’d told her? All the pain he’d caused?
It didn’t.
And she would tell him as much.
She took her phone out of her pocket at the same time as an unfamiliar SUV pulled up the driveway. She watched, dread settling in the pit of her stomach as it slowed down and stopped. The driver’s brown hair…
It looked a heck of a lot like Benjamin’s hair.
But it couldn’t be him.
The Benjamin she knew wouldn’t have left the office if a tornado swept through it. He would have chained himself to the desk and kept on working, so there was no way he was here, in South Dakota.
Then the door popped open and out he came, wearing an expensive three-piece gray suit, shiny black loafers, and a pair of Gucci shades. He looked as out of place on her farm as he possibly could. Utterly ridiculous. Stupid, even.
And yet the suit hugged his hard biceps and tapered in at his six-pack abs, and God, he looked delicious at the same time. And that made her even angrier.
How dare he come here? How dare he?
After all he’d done, after how he’d made her feel, he had the nerve to show his face on her turf, looking handsome as the devil himself and staring at her as if he’d been as hungry for the sight of her as she’d been for him, which was a big, fat lie.
Just as all the other things he’d told her had been.
She wrapped her arms around herself, not approaching him, and called out, “You can get right back in that car and drive off. You’re not welcome here, Mr. Gale.”
“No.” He came around the front of his shiny Cadillac, his jaw hard and his hands curled into fists. God, he looked so good. It wasn’t fair. None of this was. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you hear me out. My messages—”
“You shouldn’t have come here.” She lifted her chin. “What would Elizabeth say?”
“I don’t give a damn what she would say.” He had the audacity to look confused. He stopped just short of arm’s reach, but close enough for her to smell his familiar cologne. She breathed it in deeply, closing her eyes against the pain it caused and the incredibly strong longing it brought to life. “Why should I?”
“Where is she? Did you tell her you were coming here?”
He blinked. “No. I didn’t feel the need to inform her of my whereabouts.”
“But you— It doesn’t matter.” Uncrossing her arms, she backed up. “If you won’t go, I will.”
“Wait.” He caught her arm. She hissed, because his touch burned through the fabric of her shirt, searing her. “Please, Maggie.”
“No.” She yanked free, stumbling back. He made as if to reach for her, but she scowled him off. “Don’t touch me.”
His fingers flexed, but he remained still. “I bought the farm for your parents. It’s safe now. They can stay here, and you can come home to New York.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going home, because it’s not my home. This is. Not that city. New York is for people like you, not me.”
“But—” Something that looked a lot like pain crossed his expression. “Did you listen to any of my messages?”
No. And she wouldn’t. But she lifted her chin and lied. After all, he was so good at it, so she might as well try her hand at it, too. “Yes. Every one of them. Twice.”
His jaw flexed. “And you still hate me, after all that I said?”
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. As hard as she’d tried, she couldn’t find it in her heart to hate him because she loved him. And that’s what made this even worse.