an irritated sigh, his chest deflating as he did. What kind of a stupid idea was this? And who was he fooling? Burke wouldn’t catch any fish if he slept with one hand glued to the pole all night.
But if it’s your ticket to seeing Justine again…
Tsk. Since when had Burke needed any sort of ticket to seeing a woman he was interested in?
A groan sounded low in his throat. He didn’t like admitting that he was interested in her, but he was. Very. In fact, even as he analyzed the frustration he felt, Burke was also wondering if she was back home by now.
Probably.
The thought had him propping the pole in place and tugging his phone from his pocket. Yes, the volume on his ringer was up and no, Justine hadn’t tried to call or text to say that she’d made a mistake and that she’d like him to come to the festival after all.
Also, he realized as the time caught his eye—he’d only been out there for an hour. “You’re kidding,” he spat under his breath. It felt more like half a dozen hours at least.
Not much earlier that night, Burke had been on top of the world, pouring his heart out to Justine’s granddad while she looked on, that adorable little dimple in her cheek. Last night had been wonderful as well. Dinner for two under the stars, the chemistry between them, a growing force of its own.
He guessed that’s why this sudden end to their relationship felt so…wrong. And he shouldn’t fool himself, that’s just what this was—the end.
An ache settled over him at the thought. He wanted to deny it, but what would be the point? She was done with him; she’d made that much clear.
Sure, if you catch a fish, give me a call…
If had never felt like such a massive word. It was two tiny letters, yet somehow it stood between him and the woman he was falling for as if he was some lovesick schoolboy.
He should have known better than to open himself up to heartache again. At least, if things ended now, he’d recover quickly enough. Although an inner voice said otherwise. Something told Burke that even if he never saw her again, it’d be just as haunting as if they’d spent the next year and a half dating before things went awry.
There was a reason he’d felt drawn to her on that very first day. A reason he’d allowed himself to let down his guard. A reason he felt closer to heaven when she was near.
Still, if Justine didn’t feel the same…if she wasn’t interested in him in return, perhaps he should just leave. Head to the neighboring town and look for the next piece of land to purchase.
Something about the idea made him breathe a little easier. His chest puffed as he considered it further. He could pack up now if he wanted. He’d pay Mrs. Walsh through the end of the month, of course, but that would be that. Burke would break free from the suddenly uncomfortable situation of wanting a woman who didn’t want him in return.
So he was running.
The word made him cringe. When he put it that way, it didn’t sound so good after all.
His eyes shifted from their unfocused haze over the stream to the fishing pole in his hand. Running was better than this, wasn’t it? Sitting out here like some loser trying to catch a fish he’d never catch. All so he could, ultimately, catch a girl he had no business chasing in the first place.
Oh, the things money couldn’t buy.
How many times had he been faced with its limits? It couldn’t save his mom’s life. It couldn’t bring his father back. And even now, it couldn’t get him the girl either. Unless he paid someone to catch the fish for him. But how desperate was he?
Disappointment struck him like a gut punch. Disgust too. No, he wasn’t doing this anymore. No more trying to catch a fish. No more trying to catch the girl. It had been a mistake to let her into his heart to begin with. Next time, he’d stick to his old rules.
With that, Burke shot to a stand, reeled in the fruitless fishing line with a series of angry, grinding cranks, then kicked over the stump he’d been sitting on. How quickly could he pack up his things and go? Twenty minutes? Maybe ten if he hurried?
With the fishing pole propped in one hand, a bucket in