Chapter Three: Aspen

Damn, why did he have to look so good? Even better than the last time I came face-to-face with him. I'd given up hope that he peaked in high school. No, Owen Ramsey only got better with age.

I was almost—almost—happy to see him. Because, let's be honest, most people who left town rarely returned. Just like with my eldest sister, the townspeople of Ashfield never expected him to step foot back in our town, especially once rumors began swirling about his father. His mother, Beverly, shouldered enough embarrassment for the both of them.

The use of the atrocious nickname quickly exterminated that twinge of happiness for me though. One I hadn't heard since I crossed the auditorium stage and received my high school diploma. I'd hoped to never hear it again, but lo and behold, Owen couldn't let that childish nickname drop.

"Don't call me that," I snarled as I twisted out of his hold.

I tried to brush past him but made the mistake of looking up into those gray eyes that captivated everyone he laid them on. It was like he dipped his irises in liquid mercury. They were the most startling shade.

"Aw, I didn't mean anything by it," he explained, as I moved toward the register, rolling my eyes as he followed like a lost puppy.

"Doubtful," I said over my shoulder, snagging one last glimpse of him. My entire goal while he was here was to avoid him as much as possible. But even I knew that was going to be hard, knowing exactly where he was going to be staying.

Just as I had that passing thought, Owen asked, "Know where I can find my mom?"

He set the box in his hand behind my bread on the conveyor belt.

"I don't," I lied. I knew exactly where she was.

"Shame. Though I can't say I'm unhappy with the company I've run into."

Turning around fully, I squint in his direction, my eyes searching his. "Since when have you ever been happy to see me, Owen?"

Instead of answering, Owen chuckled and threw a candy bar next to his cookies. A Butterfinger, which happened to be the one I always picked. "For you."

"How'd you know that's my favorite?" I asked him suspiciously as the teenager at the register scanned my lone item.

With the kind of grin that brought girls to their knees—other girls, not me—he replied, "I didn't."

The worker interrupted our back-and-forth with my total, and I handed him the two dollars for the bread, quickly gathered my bag, and made my way to the automatic doors.

I hurried out of the store toward my barely drivable sedan, leaving Owen without a backward glance. Just knowing he returned to Ashfield was enough to keep me from wanting to travel into town until I knew full well that he was gone. I could only hope his stay wasn't prolonged. Though, I had a feeling that once he knew what was going on with his family's property, he would be here until he absolutely had to return to his baseball team.

But none of that mattered to me. What Owen Ramsey did with his life was none of my business. I had enough on my plate with the farm and my fledgling social life.

As I got in my car, I looked up and watched as he strolled casually through the exit, heading in my direction. Panicked, I fumbled with my keys, jamming the right one into the side of the ignition repeatedly until I finally rung the hole and it slipped in. I turned the key quickly, praying the car started on the first go. Unfortunately, as Owen got closer, it refused to turn over.

"Come on. Come on. Come on," I pleaded with the vehicle.

A knock on my window sounded, and I sighed before I begrudgingly manually rolled down the window. My car was so old enough it didn't have power windows, so I actually understood the rolling the window down gesture most people my age didn't get.

"Yes?" I asked, annoyed.

He leaned one of his muscular arms on the side of my car, all sexy-like. I couldn't help but think he must've done this move hundreds of times with how effortless he appeared. Owen tilted his head down so he could peer through my open window, piercing me with those eyes.

"Having trouble?"

"No," I growled, again trying to start the car to no avail.

"You sure?"

"Is there something you need?"

"No, just thought I'd offer to help you out or give you a ride home, since you're on my way."

"You want to help me?" I asked cynically.

"Yeah. I mean, sure, why not?"

Leaning toward the window, I searched around the parking lot, looking for anything suspicious, but all I saw were a few of my mom's friends and a couple of women I went to high school with. They were all looking at Owen as if he simultaneously hung the moon and committed a crime.

"Am I being pranked right now? Is someone going to jump out from behind a vehicle and tell me this is all a joke?" I questioned, returning to the task of starting my car, which seemed as unwilling as ever.

"No prank, cricket."

Immediately, I sneered in his direction, my eyes narrowing as if I were formulating his slow and painful death.

"Come on, Aspen. I'm just trying to help. I also have your candy bar."

Sighing loudly, I squinted even more at him, like he'd grown two heads. "I realize you may have forgotten everything about our rivalry when you left town, but the last time I was in any moving vehicle with you, my jeans ended up super-glued to the vinyl seats of our school bus."

That day had been awful. Thankfully, my angel of a mother came to get me off the bus—once the driver returned to school at the end of the route—with an extra pair of pants, because I refused to try to stand up again while there were other passengers.

"We were kids. It was funny."

"Funny for you, maybe."

"Pretty sure you got your payback. Even though I think, in the long run, those sheer baseball pants you swapped in my bag before the championship game probably helped me land that underwear campaign I starred in last year."

Ignoring his chuckles, I attempted to turn on the car for the third time, and the answering click let me know my car wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Owen stood there with one of those sexy trademark smirks of his. He stayed on the other side of it, probably to protect himself, waiting patiently for me to exit.

Eyes downcast, because I didn't have any other choice besides call one of my family members, I grabbed the loaf of bread and my bag before stepping out of the car. Without looking up at him, I shoved my keys into my bag, then rolled up the window, giving him my own smirk when he barely moved his fingers in time to not be pinched. With as much haughtiness as I could muster, I yanked the door from his hold, then shut and locked it.

Before submitting to his offer, I looked across the way, noticing our old science teacher from high school. Ms. Glenvar had the unfortunate luck of having both me and Owen in her eleventh-grade chemistry class during the same period. After one disastrous lab session, where Owen and I had to partner up, and our assignment caught the table on fire, Ms. Glenvar took a leave of absence for the rest of the year.

I still didn't believe it was our fault. It wasn't us who placed ourselves in a class together, and everyone in Ashfield knew the chaos we tended to cause when we were in close proximity. So whose bright idea was it to put us together in, of all things, Chemistry? They were just asking for it.

Ms. Glenvar must have felt my stare. Her beady eyes met mine, and her steps faltered as she took in the large body behind my much, much smaller one. As if witnessing a crime in action, she took a slow step backward, then another, until she was running to her car parked at the far end of the lot.

"What was that about?" Owen asked as he opened the door of a plain-looking sedan parked directly beside mine. I would have expected to see him driving an exotic car like one of my brothers-in-law owned, since the news made it well known how much Owen's recently signed contract was for.

With wide eyes, I spun around and looked at him in bewilderment. "Seriously?"

Owen gestured with an outstretched hand for me to enter the vehicle. I was still apprehensive, but I noticed the receipt from the rental company was resting on the center console, so I figured my pants were fairly safe.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I settled into the seat, grabbing my cell to text my family about my car. Of course, my phone's battery was hanging on for dear life, with only three percent left. Before it died completely, I shot off a message letting them know I was on my way home, then powered off the device.

"You're welcome."

I watched him close my door, then jog around the front of the sedan toward the driver side. Even compared to last year, when I saw him for only a quick moment, he seemed to fill out even more. He was both lean and muscular, the cotton of his T-shirt stretched around his bicep as if it would give way at any moment. I didn't recall his arms looking like that in high school. He also didn't have any of the ink that now swirled in bright colors and shades of black and gray.

My eyes focused on the intricate design as he settled into his own seat. They appeared to be landscapes and words, nothing I could determine without a closer look. And getting any closer to Owen wouldn't ever be a safe bet I'd take.

As he started the car and began pulling out of the parking spot, the people milling in and out of the store peered through our windows. The alarm was palpable as they darted away.

"Why is everyone running like the apocalypse is coming?"

Giggling, I said, "Because they probably think it is."

Owen glanced over at me as he pulled onto Main Street. The skin between his eyebrows wrinkled. When our eyes met, there was electricity there that forced me to turn my head away and stare out the window. I didn't have the time or energy to figure out what was going on.

"I don't understand," he mumbled.

"Really, Owen?" I didn't elaborate further, not only because he couldn't recall our tumultuous childhood with each other, but because I didn't have the energy.

We made it ten minutes into the drive before another word was spoken. During that time, I wondered what kind of posts were being made in the town's Facebook group. Not that I cared what was said about me, but I'd never been the topic of discussion before. At least not in this capacity.

Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was nearing four o'clock, and I knew my sister, Autumn, would be set to start dinner at the bed-and-breakfast soon. She roped me into the grocery store errand when she found me in our parents' barn. Normally, I'd have declined, but right now, she was so pregnant that she looked as if she swallowed a watermelon.

"So… what's new with you?" Owen asked, flexing his fingers along the steering wheel.

"Um… nothing really."

"Did you… uh… go away to college or anything?"

I faced him again. Cocking my head to the side, I wondered if he truly didn't keep up with anyone from town. I figured his mom would have at least kept him up-to-date on their land and our farm, since we signed the paperwork for the purchase last week.

"Are you joking right now?"

"What?"

"Your head is so far up your own ass that you have no idea whether or not I went to college? Pretty sure there was a listing at our graduation of where people were going, and my name was not on it."

"Oh. Sorry," he said with an unapologetic shrug. "My mind was elsewhere at graduation. Actually, it was elsewhere our entire senior year."

With a resounding huff, I mumbled, "It's fine. I took online classes to get an Associate's in Business, but the farm dictates most of my time."

"You're still working for your fami—"

I interrupted him and pointed toward the road leading to the Crawfords' bed-and-breakfast, where I was headed. "My sister, Autumn, and her husband, Colton, fixed up the old, worn-down farmhouse at the top of the hill and turned it into a BB."

"Yeah? Didn't she move to New York or something like that?"

I was surprised he remembered that much but didn't know whether I went to college or not. But then again, the majority of my male classmates and a few females had a major crush on my older sisters, even memorizing their school and work schedules. So, him knowing what they did after graduation shouldn't have surprised me. But it did nonetheless.

"She did. She married someone you might recognize. Colton Crawford? He played professional hockey."

"I think I remember hearing that. I don't get a lot of downtime. Usually in the offseason, I'm training from sunup to sundown. So, unless it directly affects me or the team, I don't really know what's going on."

Knowing I only had a few seconds before we crested the hill, I wanted to ask about the gossip burning in the back of my mind. "What happened with the fiancée?"

"Ex-fiancée."

"Yeah. But if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I get it. I don't like to share my personal life either."

"It's fine. I haven't really talked to anyone about it. I left LA with only a message for my coach and suggestions from my PR team. Long story short, Vanessa decided she wanted to spend our wedding day screwing her best friend in the middle of our reception hall before we marched down the aisle."

"Wow. That's…. Wow." Shaking my head gently, I added, "I'm sorry. You probably expected me to say something more comforting."

With a chuckle, Owen replied, "No. Actually, I imagined you flipping this around on me and saying it was my fault, or confessing it was you who caused it. Maybe you paid off my fiancée, you know?"

My chest pinched. The sting reached low down in my spine and crackled upward toward my tear ducts. I blinked quickly to rid myself of the tears.

"I deserve that."

While I'd been speaking, he had pulled the car up in front of the large, restored farmhouse. As the vehicle came to a stop, Owen rested his hand on my exposed thigh. My eyes immediately darted down to the placement. It was the first time I could recall Owen ever touching me.

The spot sizzled.

He pulled his hand away just as quickly as it had landed there, as if it burned him in the process as well.

"Um… sorry. But no, Aspen, you didn't deserve that." After a long pause, Owen utters, "Tell your mom I said hello."

The chrome of the handle warmed under my touch as I opened the door. Just as I stepped out of the car with my bags in hand, I turned back to him. "You may want to come inside."

Leaning over the center console, Owen murmured, "Huh?"

"It's where you'll find your mother."

I didn't turn back to see if he'd follow after I closed the car door, but the sound of a second one shutting gave him away.

"What do you mean?" he hollered at me as I reach the porch steps.

I'd never admit it to my sister, but I was jealous about this entire house. It was gorgeous, and I dreamed of the double porches being on my fantasy home. Unfortunately, I would be stuck on the Sunny Brook Farms property for the unforeseeable future.

I knew from conversations with his mother that the two of them didn't speak often, not that it was on her end. She missed her son, but she also understood why he didn't want to return to town.

We all did. Now. His secrets were no longer his own. I wasn't even sure Owen Ramsey was aware of that fact.

"You'll see," I said, turning around as I reached the porch to face him. He was standing three steps below me, which brought us eye-to-eye. "Look, you haven't been back in a long time. Ignore last year, when you were here for a split second and left at the first chance you got. But things have changed. People and lives have changed. I don't want you thinking you played a part in any of it—good or bad. There were decisions made to better all parties involved. Please, keep that in mind, Owen. I'm begging you."

I ignored the way his eyes flared at my last statement, turned back around to take the three strides to the front door, and opened it without knocking, leaving him speechless still on the steps.

"Aspen!" he whisper-yelled. I almost cracked a smile, but I knew what he was going to walk in to. Something I figured out during the ride that he absolutely wasn't prepared for.

Following the hallway past the open foyer, I found my sister and her husband in the kitchen, prepping the dinner with their live-in chef. My other sister, Alex, used to cook the meals here, but now that her cake shop was inundated with orders, Autumn hired someone else. Tara, a guest chef on a cooking show Colton hosted, took the job.

"I'm here with the bread. Sorry it took so long. I had car trouble. Again." I handed the bread to Tara, who look relieved, as Colton thanked me profusely. Autumn sat on a barstool in the corner, looking a little green. She'd had morning sickness through her entire pregnancy. Normally, she ran the event venue on the far side of Sunny Brook Farms, but she handed off most tasks to her assistants.

"Aspen!" Owen shouted this time as he found his way to the kitchen and noticed the trio of other people. "Oh. Apologies for yelling. I was looking for Aspen."

"How interesting," Autumn whispered as she cocked her head. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Aspen's sister, Autumn." She pushed herself off the stool and moved toward the unexpected guest with her hand outstretched.

I rolled my eyes hard enough I saw stars as Owen blushed. The man had been engaged to a supermodel for cripes' sake, but my sister had him acting like a lovesick teen with a lifelong crush.

"This is Colton, my husband. He plays hockey and hosts a few television shows."

Shaking both their hands, Owen mentioned how he may have met Colton before at a sports network award show, and the two chat for a few minutes. Autumn winked in my direction, and I shot her a look of disgust.

"Owen?" she called for his attention, breaking up the impending bromance. "Are you staying for dinner? Our chef, Tara, is making manicotti."

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for the offer, but—"

From off in the distance, the sound of fast-paced footsteps grew closer.

"Owen? You're here?"

I recognized Beverly's voice immediately. Of course, Owen had as well, and I didn't miss his subtle wince when his name echoed through the house.

His mother turned the corner, still wearing her Crawford Bed-and-Breakfast polo shirt, and dashed over to her son. Feeling like I would witness a private moment, I shuffled out of the kitchen toward the library.

Thankfully, Autumn and Colton had the same idea, and we found ourselves hiding out amongst the stacks of novels.

"Well, this is awkward," Autumn murmured as she rested against one of the bookshelves. "Owen didn't look too happy to see his mom."

"I'm not so sure he has the best relationship with her… and most definitely not the town," I replied.

Colton chimed in, "So, it's likely he has no idea his mom sold you their land."

"From what I gathered, he doesn't even know she works here," I pointed out.

Autumn's mouth transformed into a guileful grin as her arms crossed against her chest. "So… Owen drove you over here?"

"Don't," I pleaded. "It was nothing."

"Oh, I beg to differ. You and Owen being civil to one another for longer than five minutes is not nothing."

"Autumn, don't read into it."

"Hm. Colton, make sure we have bags packed somewhere."

He looked alarmed, eyes darting up and down between Autumn's face and belly. "Is it the baby?"

She laughed loudly. "No, silly. It's worse. The end of the world may happen sometime soon." Colton's face scrunched, and Autumn explained, "Because Aspen and Owen have been hating on each other since they were in elementary school. We've never had a single moment where they could be in a room together without something going awry."

My eyes rolled at her description, though she wasn't too far off. Of course, she left out the fact that Owen started our rivalry with that stupid nickname. But I couldn't expect anyone in my family to remember small details like that. I was merely the little shadow who tagged along everywhere. The afterthought.

Glancing over at my sister, I saw her husband was gently rubbing circles on her lower back as she turned toward him. They were in their own little world.

Feeling like a voyeur, I ducked out of the library, slinking along the hallway wall as to not disrupt whatever was going on with Owen and Beverly.

I caught sight of a couple of the guests milling around the living room area just as Owen stomped out of the kitchen toward me, but it was clear he had tunnel vision. I wasn't sure if I should follow him, but I did anyway.

"Owen!" I shouted as we made it outside.

"I… I can't talk to you right now," he said as he yanked open the driver-side door of his car.

I wasn't privy to the discussion he and Beverly had, but it was clear he was upset about something. I could only imagine some of the things that had come to light. And not that I wanted to blame him for ignoring calls from his mother, since I learned about his childhood, but all fingers pointed in his direction as the reason he was uninformed.

"Not that I care, but maybe you should let your mom explain."

Leaning against the car, resting his folded arms on the roof, he chastised me. "Look, cricket, in all the years I've known you, I've never asked for your advice. Why would I follow it, especially unsolicited, now?"

"You don't have to be an asshole to me just because you're angry."

"Go home to your perfect life, cricket. Don't worry about me."

Without another word, he slunk down onto his seat and started the car. Within seconds, he was kicking up dust and dirt as he left the BB.

From behind me, I felt a presence and turned to find Beverly standing just behind the threshold of the door, her face crestfallen.

"Well, that didn't quite go as expected."

"What did you tell him exactly?" I asked.

"That I've been working here for the last year and the house was condemned."

"So, he doesn't even know yet that you sold the land?"

"We… um… didn't get that far. I'll see if I can book a room for him here while he's home. Or maybe there's a rental in town I can set up." She paused, and I noticed the glassiness of her eyes. "I was just so happy he was coming home, and now I'm afraid I ruined it."

"Can I ask why you didn't tell him anything before now? From what I've heard, I realize Owen isn't the easiest person to get ahold of, but it might not have been such a shock if you'd been able to tell him something."

"I tried, but he's so stubborn and refused to listen when I brought up anything not related to baseball. I stopped trying. I should have insisted, I guess."

Taking her shaking hand, I squeezed it gently between mine. "He'll come around."

She shakes her head but smiles at me at the same time. "You're a sweet girl. Are you headed back to the farm?"

"Yeah, I'll take one of the UTVs. I need to go over the books with my dad."

"You work too hard," she said like a scolding mother.

"You sound like Dean." He had become friends with most of the town, including Owen's mom. "I'll see you later, Miss Beverly. If there's anything we can do, just let me know."

I hurried around the side of the house, where we stored the UTVs. There was a path that connected the bed-and-breakfast to Sunny Brook Farms, which made it easier for us to travel back and forth.

While most people were ending their day, mine was still going strong. The workload of a farmer was never-ending.

But even after arriving back at my family's house and going through the financials with my father—something I was struggling to comprehend—I couldn't help thinking about how Owen's world was just flipped upside down.

I was so distracted that, instead of making up an excuse like I usually did, I agreed to join Jenna out for drinks tonight. Something I'd only ever done once since I turned twenty-one three years ago.