his world anymore. And she hadn’t.
The truck bounced over the rutted trail of a drive that had once been covered with gravel. Now the rain had washed away the gravel and left deep veins that were nearly ditches. The truck bumped and jarred. Overgrown weeds and brush hit the side panel and a coyote, startled by their presence, ran off into the field. The dog in the back of the truck barked.
“This can’t be the place.”
“Sorry, it is.” Jenna flashed him a sweet smile that didn’t help him to feel better about the property, but he smiled back.
She reminded him of girls who’d wanted to wear his letter jacket back in high school. The kind that slipped a finger through a guy’s belt loop as they walked down the hall and kissed him silly on a Saturday night.
“If it makes you feel better, there are plenty of people around here looking for work.” She broke into the silence, speaking over the wind rushing through the cab of the truck and country music on the radio. “Take a drive into town and there are half a dozen guys who will mow this with a Brush Hog.”
“That’s good to know.” Not really.
He sighed as they continued on. Ahead he could see a two-story building with rows of windows. Probably the dorm. To the left of the dorm was a stable, and to the right of the dorm, a large metal-sided building. Jenna parked in front of a long, single-wide mobile home.
“Home sweet home.” She pushed the door open and jumped out. “It really is a good quality mobile home. And there’s a tornado shelter.”
She pointed to a concrete-and-metal fixture sticking up from the ground. A tornado shelter. So, the manager would duck into safety while fifty kids huddled in a dorm. He didn’t like that idea at all. Billy probably hadn’t given it a second thought.
Billy had lived a pretty sketchy life for the most part. A few years ago he’d found religion and then a desire to do something for troubled kids. Adam had thought Billy’s plan for the camp was legit. Maybe it had started out that way.
Adam walked toward the mobile home, wading through grass that was knee-high. The boys were out of the truck and running around, not fazed by grass or the thought of snakes and ticks.
He would have done the same thing at their age. Now, he was a long way from his childhood, not far from home, and the distance had never been greater.
“Do you know a Realtor?” He looked down, and Jenna Cameron shook her head.
“Drive into Grove and pick one. I couldn’t tell you the best one for the job, but there are several.”
His cell phone rang. He smiled an apology and walked away from her, leaving her looking toward the stable with a gleam that was undeniable. Most women loved diamonds, not barns.
“Are you there?” Will’s voice, always calm. That’s what he got paid for. Will was the voice of reason. Will prayed for him.
Adam had bristled when Will first told him that a few months back. Now the knowledge had settled and he sometimes thought about why his manager would think he needed prayer.
“If this is it, I’m here. And I’m…”
“Watch it, Adam.” Will’s endless warning.
“Fine, I’m here. It’s paradise. Two hundred acres of overgrown brush, a drive with more ruts and ditches than you can imagine and my living quarters are a trailer.”
“It could be worse.”
“So you always say. Is that a verse in the Bible? I can’t remember.”
Will laughed. “Close. The verse says more about not worrying about today’s troubles, tomorrow’s are sufficient in themselves.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Can’t you think of something more optimistic?”
“Has it been so long since you’ve been to church?”
“Your kid’s dedication when she was born.”
“She has a name.”
“Yeah, she does. Kate, right?”
“You’re close. It’s Kaitlin.”
“See, I’m not so shallow and self-centered.”
“I never thought you were. So, about the camp…”
“I’m going to contact a Realtor.”
“No, you’re not. Adam, you can’t ditch that place.”
Adam glanced in the direction of the cowgirl and her two kids. They were tossing a stick for the dog and she was pretending not to listen. He could tell she was.
“Why am I not selling?” He lowered his voice and turned away.
“Because you need this patch on your reputation. You need to stay and see this through. You need to be the good guy.”
“My reputation isn’t bad enough for this to be the punishment.”
“Look, Adam, let’s not beat around the bush. You have money in your account, a nice house in Atlanta and a shot at being a national anchor for one of the biggest sports networks in the world. Don’t mess it up.”
Adam walked up the steps to the covered porch on the front of the mobile home. He peeked in the front door, impressed by the interior and the leather furniture his cousin had bought with his money.
“Adam?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Is this compliance?” Will sounded far too amused and then he chuckled, as if to prove it. “Stay there. Clean the place up and make it a camp for underprivileged kids. Show the world what a good guy you are.”
“I’m not a good guy, I’m self-centered and macho. I’m a ladies’ man. I worked hard on that reputation and now you want me to change it?”
“I didn’t ask for the other reputation, it’s the one you showed up with. This is what I’m asking for. That you stay for the summer, show the world the real you, and be nice to the neighbor.”
Adam glanced in her direction, blue jeans and a T-shirt, two little boys. “How do you know about her?”
“Billy told me she’s a sweet girl.”
“You talked to Billy?”
“He called to ask a few questions, just advice on the property.”
“I don’t like this. You do realize, don’t you, that I’ll have to live in this trailer and eat at a diner in Dawson called The Mad Cow?”
Will laughed and Adam smiled, but he had no intentions of staying here. He’d find a way to get out of it. He pushed his hat down on his head and walked off the porch, still holding the phone.
“Billy said the chicken-fried steak was to die for.” Will the optimist.
“Billy died of a heart attack. Talk to you later.”
Jenna picked her way across the overgrown lawn. Adam Mackenzie stood next to the porch, staring at the barn and the dorm. He looked a little lost and kind of angry. Angry didn’t bother her. Neither did tantrums—she had the twins.
“Bad news?” She stopped next to him and looked up, studying his face.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He tore off a piece of fescue grass and stuck it between his teeth. “My agent thinks I should stay. This sure wasn’t where I wanted to spend my summer.”
“Really?” She looked out at land that, with a little care, could be a premium piece of property. And she thought of the kids, the ones who were so much like herself, who could come here for a week or two and forget the abuse or poverty at home. Couldn’t he see that? “It looks like a great place to me.”