Page 115 of Hometown Girl

Beth stilled.

“You get to decide, Miss Whitaker, what ‘the big dream’ is for you. And it’s okay to want a simple life. It’s even okay to admit that you kind of love it here—that this place is your ‘why’—at least for right now. I mean, look what you’re doing—bringing people together. Fairwind Farm is a connector of people. We need that around here.”

Beth was skeptical. Birdie Chirper was a crazy old lady who really needed to pay them rent if she wanted to continue to paint in their barn, but she made a lot of sense.

Could Beth ever be that brave—that comfortable with her own choices that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought?

Birdie stood. “I’ve got more paintings to cart down here.” She turned to Beth. “Unless you don’t want me to participate in your sale?”

Beth shook her head. “Of course you should participate.”

She smiled. “Of course I should.”

Beth watched as the old woman left, resting in the words imparted by a perfect stranger and begging God to show her how to rest in the gift of His “why.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next day, when she arrived, Beth knocked on the front door again. Drew had made up his mind not to be so distant with her today—even if it seemed awkward. Yesterday had been brutal, and not knowing where he stood with her was killing him.

He’d figure out a way to tell her who he really was tonight. He owed her that much.

He pulled the door open and found her eyes, which asked permission to come in. One look at her and his self-control unraveled.

“Good morning.” She shoved a coffee at him.

“Good morning.” He took the cup.

“Listen, can you tell me what’s going on here?” She motioned at herself, then at him. She’d taken on her business tone, same one he’d witnessed when she talked to Davis Biddle. He watched her for a few long seconds until she looked at him again. He couldn’t help it—he smiled.

“You’re smiling.”

“You’re cute when you’re confrontational.”

She gave his shoulder a shove, and he held on to her wrist, pulling her close.

“I’m serious,” she said. “I can’t figure you out.”

“I like you, Beth Whitaker,” he said.

She let out the slightest sigh (of relief?) and sank into him. “I like you too.”

He kicked the front door shut with his foot and kissed her the way he’d wanted to ever since their first kiss. When he pulled away, he found her breathless and beautiful.

“I know I was weird yesterday,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Her face fell. “I want you to know you can trust me. You can talk to me.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eye, tucking it behind her ear. “I know. Let’s talk—tonight? Dinner?”

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Deal.”

He stared at her for a few long seconds until she remembered there was work to do.

“Okay, today I’m going to start hauling stuff from the second floor down to the barn for the sale,” she said.

---