Page 100 of Hometown Girl

“I’m guessing she’s probably in the old barn on the east of the property,” Beth said. “Have you been in that one?” She didn’t let him respond—thankfully. “I haven’t. It wasn’t important because I knew we didn’t need it ready by fall. Obviously that was a mistake. Why didn’t I walk through every single inch of the property before I signed those papers?”

“That would be quite a walk.”

“Still.”

Drew drove out onto the grass, stopping near the would-be art barn. He’d grown so familiar with the space and with Birdie. He liked her. Maybe because she was full of conspiracy theories and no ability to censor herself. It was hard to find people who said what they really thought without any concern for how it sounded. Plus, she’d known Jess. She’d mourned her death and still thought about what had happened to her. They had that in common.

Beth pushed the door to the barn open, and he listened for Birdie’s music. Instead, all he heard was silence. Good, maybe she wasn’t even there. He stood back while Beth explored the dark space. It felt more honest than pretending he hadn’t been there before.

Who was he kidding? He was up to his neck in dishonesty. Why pretend otherwise?

Beth started up the stairs, and he followed, thankful that unless the old woman was sleeping on her sofa, she wasn’t in the barn.

When he reached the top, he let out a sigh. “No one here.”

Beth studied the art supplies haphazardly strewn across the two long tables against the wall. She moved on to the artwork, some hung, some propped up, some still waiting to be finished on easels in the center of the room.

“Wow,” Beth said quietly. “I’m almost jealous.”

He watched as she leaned in closer, studying the piece of art Birdie had been working on the day he’d discovered her. Abstract flowers that looked a little bit incredible now that they were done.

“This is an amazing space,” Beth said.

He nodded, looking around, wondering if there was any evidence he’d ever been there. When he turned back, she stood with a faraway look in her eye. “What is it?”

“The art. It feels like we’re reading her diary or something.”

“You would know, being an artist.”

She laughed. “I traded in my paintbrushes a long time ago.”

“For business?”

When she nodded, she almost looked sad.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her, trying to focus on what she said instead of the way she looked when she said it.

He didn’t talk much, but that gave him plenty of time to listen—and the guys he’d hired had plenty to say about Beth Whitaker. Homecoming queen. Voted Most Likely to Succeed. To hear them talk, it seemed she’d always been out of this town’s league. He could see why.

Her blue eyes alone could make a man forget his own name.

Maybe that’s why she’d always felt she was supposed to have done more than what she had—because everyone told her she should. Same way everyone had told him he should remember.

Did she feel like a disappointment?

He knew a little something about that.

Maybe that’s why Kent Tanner had gotten under her skin like he had. Maybe what he’d said spoke to some part of her that thought he was right. Maybe some part of her believed, after the things she’d done, that she was unlovable.

Drew had practically dragged the guy out into the yard, and when he had, he’d made sure Tanner knew never to step foot on the property—and never to insult Beth Whitaker—again.

“Are you into her?” Kent had let out a wry laugh. “Unbelievable, man.”

“Shut it, Tanner—just go.”

Kent stumbled away from him. “Don’t get your hopes up, buddy. That chick is now and always has been a prissy little princess who thinks she’s too good for guys like us.”

Drew stormed toward Kent, grabbed him by the collar and rammed him into the nearest vehicle. “That’s because sheistoo good for us, you idiot.”

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