His Southern Temptation - By Robin Covington Page 0,66
spill his dirt. He sighed, knowing his dad wasn’t going to let it go until he found out what happened. Hell, by today most of the town would know anyway.
“Taylor left me.”
His dad cocked his head to one side, confusion marring his features. “I figured it was a woman, but my money was either that this knucklehead had pissed off Michaela”—he gestured toward Jack and then turned a finger to Beck—“or this one couldn’t keep all of them straight and had a jealous boyfriend after him.”
“Hey,” Jack said.
“That happened once, and I never get to live it down” was Beck’s indignant contribution.
His dad ignored them. “But I didn’t know you and Mary-Taylor were that serious, so I think you need to catch me up.”
“She was going to stay and we were going to start a life together.”
“You love her?”
“Yes.” He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.
“Does she love you?”
“I think so.”
“Did you propose to her?”
“That was the plan.” Lucky sighed as he leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees. This position, with his head slightly bowed, made the room stop spinning. Not throwing up was key for this type of conversation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small jeweler’s box he’d taken to carrying with him everywhere. “I’ve even got a ring.”
He explained what happened to his dad, telling him about the years of meeting up with Taylor and his realization that she was the woman for him. When he got to the last couple of weeks, the details were no less painful with twenty-four hours of distance.
Lucky realized this was the most he’d shared with his father since he was a boy. Instead of being weird, it felt really good—safe and right—to lean on his dad for guidance.
“So, why aren’t you on a plane to Hawaii?” Owen asked.
Lucky wasn’t the only one surprised. Jack and Beck both made the sounds of disbelief that matched their dual expressions.
“What are you talking about, Dad? I can’t go with her and still have the farm. The last time I checked I couldn’t lift it up and transplant it to the big island.”
“Of course not. You go with her and find something else to do. Believe me, you can do anything as long as you’re with the woman you love.” He nodded toward Jack. “You did the same thing, didn’t you? You met Michaela and suddenly the where and when wasn’t as important as the who. Am I right?”
Jack nodded. “Best decision I ever made.”
“What about the farm? The debt?”
“I’m in no hurry to retire, and I’ll do what I’ve done the past couple of years and lease out some of the land, hire some help. I might even sell it to Summerfield eventually.” Owen pushed off the tractor he was leaning against and walked over to Lucky, laying a broad, heavy hand on his shoulder. “But I can tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to take a dime of your money if it keeps you from the woman you love.”
Lucky was stunned. One voice in his head yelled that he couldn’t walk away from the farm, his parents, and what he knew he wanted. But his heart throbbed with the loss of Taylor and whispered for him to run to Hawaii as fast as his legs would carry him.
“But…”
“But what? Can you imagine loving any other woman? Any other woman having your babies? In your bed?” Owen paused and gave Lucky time to think.
For years, he’d defined himself by the job he did. That was where he found his fulfillment and his place in the world. But with Taylor, loving her was the job he wanted to do the most. He couldn’t fathom anyone else making him feel like a lottery winner every second of every day. If he was brutally honest with himself, she’d hooked him early and no one had ever had a realistic chance of taking what was always hers.
But she didn’t want him.
“No. It won’t work between us. Taylor doesn’t trust me, and I don’t know how to change that.”
“Well, get your butt to Hawaii and prove her wrong.”
“It’s not that easy, Dad.”
The buzzing of his phone forestalled any further argument. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the display. A text from an unknown number. He tapped the screen and it opened up, revealing a photograph.
Fuck. His hand shook with shock and rage, the image of Taylor held by Mr. Clean in