Page 27 of Where It All Began
“It is in Blue Moon,” he argued and looked down at her, and she felt that familiar warmth filling up her belly. He slipped his arm off her shoulder as if he’d just now realized where it was.
“I’m not a Mooner,” she reminded him. “Where we come from, your problems are your own, not fodder for a town meeting.”
John sighed wistfully. “That sounds nice.”
Phoebe laughed. “From the outside, your ‘commune-ism’ is pretty attractive.” She raised her beer to her lips and drank. “It’s been a rough patch for my family, but I know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Once I have a job, my only goal in life is taking care of $20,000 in medical debt.”
“Then what?” John asked. “After you take care of that?”
Phoebe blinked. “Oh, the usual. Make a difference, lead a meaningful life, have statues erected to me for my research in the farming industry. You?”
“Make a go of this,” he said, jutting his chin toward the barn.
“Yeah? Maybe they’ll erect scarecrows to you for being outstanding in your field?” She waited a beat, wondering if the joke would go over his head.
“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.
“You know, most people laugh at my humor.”
“I’m laughing on the inside. Do you ever think about having a family?” he asked, swiftly changing the subject.
“Sure. If I meet the right guy.” She looked down the dirt drive, pastures flowing off to the west in a million shades of green, fields of wheat to the east. “I think I’ll have all girls and raise them to believe they can do anything they damn well please.”
His grin was quick and warm and made her heart stumble. “If anyone can, it’d be you.”
“What about you? Family or the solitude you so love so dearly?”
He squinted out across the low rolling hills. “Definitely family. Someday.”
“Boys to help you build the Pierce family farming empire?” Phoebe fished.
“Who says girls wouldn’t do just as good a job empire-building?” John teased.
“Why, Mr. Pierce,” Phoebe fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Be careful, your tolerance is showing.”
He gave her a long, searching look. One that had goosebumps cropping up on her arms despite the warmth of the sun. “How much time do we have before dinner?” he asked. She took the arm he had looped around her shoulder and looked at his watch. “Another half an hour.
“Come with me,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
She took his hand. “Can I take my beer?”
Chapter Twelve
They stopped by the house for fresh beers and a peek in the oven. Satisfied that dinner would be perfection, Phoebe followed John out the door again and hoped that he’d put his arm around her again.
He didn’t. But he walked close enough that the back of his hand brushed hers in a repeated reminder of his presence and the giddy effect he had on her hormones. They crested the hill behind the house and followed a worn, grassy path that divided pasture and field. To the east, an old stone barn stood dark and tall, dominating the landscape of golds and greens.
“Is that yours, too?” she asked.
John looked up at the barn, squinted. “Yeah. It’s got good bones. Someday it’ll be something.”
He led her to the edge of the cornfield.
“Mind getting a little dirtier?” John asked her.
