5. Dean The Fake Move-in

Dean The Fake Move-in

Chapter five

"It's ours? Are you sure?" I ask the real estate agent I've been working with to secure the other farmhouse.

"Yep. The Dunnings signed off on everything earlier today," she says.

"Perfect." A smile curls over my lips. Looks like things are back on plan. "Thank you."

"Of course. It's always a pleasure doing business with you."

I hang up the phone and give my assistant a grin that I'm sure, based on her expression, looks more than a little manic.

"Someone's in a good mood," Coral says.

"We got that property."

"The one you want to convert into condos?"

"Yes. The first of many, I hope."

"How do you plan on getting the others?" Coral asks. She and I both know that the land out here is limited. And I don't want to buy up the wineries since that's one of the big selling points for people looking to buy into Sonoma County. Which means my choices for real estate are even more limited.

"Don't worry. I have my ways."

"I don't like the sound of that." She knows me too well. "Anyway, here are the calls that came in for you while you were preoccupied."

"Thanks." I take a wad of small papers from her.

"So, when will you move into the new place?"

I look up, and she's making a cheeky face at me.

"Yeah, right." I chuckle. "Can you imagine me ditching my gorgeous apartment to kick it like Davy Crockett on the frontier?"

"No, I certainly cannot. For one thing, you'd stick out like a sore thumb in your Armani suits." I snort. She's one to talk. Coral's clothes might look like comfortable business casual outfits, but I know how much cashmere costs.

"But I will need to put on the show. Pretend like we live there, at least for a little while."

"Why?"

"To convince the neighbor of my good intentions." I give her my most charming grin. It's the look the wolf probably wears before he sneaks into the hen house.

"Except that you don't have any," Coral points out.

"They don't need to know that."

She walks away. "I swear, I become more and more morally bankrupt every time I walk through that door."

"You also become richer!" I shout after her. I'm the reason she can buy her comfortable cashmere clothes, after all. I may be devious when it comes to finding business deals, but I always pay my people what they're worth.

She just waves me off without turning to face me again.

Then, I'm left alone to reminisce about the said neighbor—or at least his granddaughter. Something about her quirky personality and devastating looks keeps her running through my mind. Every time I see her, I'm captivated by her gorgeous hazel eyes. It's like they're trying to gaze straight into my soul.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a framed picture of Dylan. I'm not the only Cornel man with eyes for a Dale woman. After we'd met the Dales, I asked Dylan what he thought of Mina, but he shot me down. He only does that when he's too embarrassed to confess he likes someone. It's not like I could blame him. Her mother has since completely ensnared my thoughts too.

***

"I don't understand why we need to do this," Dylan says in the car later that night while we bring a few of our personal items to the farm.

"I told you. We need to at least put on the front that we live here." Being closer to that captivating woman is just the cherry on top.

"But we don't live here." Dylan shoots me a contemplative look.

"No, not permanently. However, if we want to earn these peoples' trust, we need to act like we're one of them. And please spare me the complaining. The more time we spend here, the more time you get to hang out with Mina."

He squirms in his chair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I mess up the already rambunctious pile of dark blond curls on top of his head. He's all me in the face, but he inherited his mother's hair. He made the same comparison himself once after finding one of the pictures of her that I thought I'd destroyed.

Luckily, before I can think about his mother any longer, we pull up to the house.

Mae and her daughter are busy in their yard again. This time, they seem to be trying—but failing—to start up a riding lawnmower.

"Come on, kid. Let me show you how it's done," I say to Dylan. He gives me a frosty glare in response.

"Oh, hi there," Mae says, after seeing us. Her hair is escaping its bun, and the little fly-aways frame her face in the golden evening sun. Her cheeks are flushed with exertion, and I have to grab onto that thought before it becomes a distraction.

"Hello. Having trouble getting that thing started?" I ask, to distract myself.

"No, no. Uh," Mae hesitates. "Okay, fine. Yes." She throws her arms in the air. "We have absolutely no idea what we're doing. We've always been city girls—and renters at that."

I circle them, inspecting the lawn mower before saying, "Well, first things first. It needs gas."

"Hold on, ladies," I go into their barn and locate a container containing what irrefutably smells like gasoline. I screw off the nozzle and dump a good portion inside, like the manly man I am.

"Oh, duh," Mae remarks to her daughter.

"Do you mind?" I ask, implying that I'll replace her in the driver's seat.

"By all means, Dean." Her back brushes me as I take over the machine, and I can feel the heat of her body even through her farm clothes.

When I finally get on and get my thoughts under control, I rely on the memory of my own grandfather teaching me how to turn a mower on.

"And there you go!" I say, as if I was completely confident the entire time.

"I mean, if you want to go ahead and hit the whole property, I certainly wouldn't mind," Mae jokes.

"You wish. Unfortunately, we've got our hands pretty full with moving some initial stuff into the new place."

I turn the mower off and watch as she attempts to turn it on herself.

"Oh!" she exclaims after it roars to life.

"You're a fast learner."

"Or you're just a great teacher," she retorts.

"It's really like the whole chicken and the egg situation, isn't it? We'll never know which one came first."

She flashes her bright smile at me, and I have to look away before I let it put a spell on me.

"Well, if there's nothing else…" I say, while nudging Dylan towards Mina. "Axes," I mouth to him the best I can without her hearing or seeing me. I follow it up with a miming motion that has my son scowling at me. But he turns to Mina all the same, his expression switching to something fond and shy so quickly it nearly gives me whiplash. I wasn't this bad when I was a teen, was I?

"Um, Mina?" Dylan asks her.

"Yeah?" she responds shyly.

"Would you maybe, uh, want to hang out for a little bit?"

"You mean—right now?"

"Never mind." Dylan scuffs his shoe on the dirt. They're his favorite sneakers, and just last week, he'd moped around the house as if he were dying because he'd gotten a bit of sand on them. "If you're too busy, I understand."

"No, I'm free now. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I really like axe throwing. Is that something you'd be into?"

"Um, I've never tried it." I can see the beginnings of a smile grow on Mina's face. Dylan might be worried about hanging out, but I get the feeling I already know how this is going to turn out.

"It's easy. I'll show you. I brought my two axes. I know that may sound funny but I go to a practice range in town sometimes. We can use one of the big trees out in the back of the farm."

"Is it okay if I go, Mom?"

"Yes but be careful!" Mae says, from atop the tractor.

They grab his axes from the car and trot across the yard together.

"Don't worry. They'll be fine," I say, turning back to Mae.

"How can I not worry about my butterfingered daughter throwing an axe?"

"Dylan takes after his dad, who is a wonderful teacher," Dean confirms, without a tiny bit of humility, and I can't help but laugh. "Hmm. I guess that does make me feel a little better."

We stand there and stare at each other for a few moments. Mae's skin is slightly damp with sweat, and suddenly, my mind is flooded with how beautiful she is, even covered in sweat. I shake my head to snap out of it. Not the time. Not the place. Mae might be beautiful, but I have plans, plans that would get far more complicated if anything were to happen between us.

"Well, I better get going." Although I really don't want to.

"Yeah, sure, and thanks. I appreciate the help," Mae offers.

"Hey! What are neighbors for?" I should go right to the house, but I stand there and watch as she adorably puts a large, floppy, straw hat onto her head and drives off to finish the lawn.

What is it about that woman? I shake my head again and resolve to keep my eye on the prize—Cornel Condominiums.

***

It doesn't take me long to carry the few things we've brought with us into the house. I spend the rest of the time generally tinkering around the place while occasionally looking out the window to check on how Dylan's fairing with Mina, or to make sure Mae's still okay atop the riding lawn mower. It's purely out of neighborly concern, of course.

To her credit, although she got off to a rocky start, Mae seems to have gotten the hang of it within a short amount of time.

"Hey, Dad?" Dylan says, after coming in for a bathroom break.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"What's for dinner?"

"Oh…" I go into the kitchen and inspect the empty fridge and cabinets. Take-out it is. But when I open the various apps on my phone, I find that nobody delivers as far out into the country as we are. "Shoot."

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. Just go have fun with your new friend." I wink at him.

"Dad!"

"What? She isn't even in here."

"Still."

"Okay, fine. I'm sorry. But how's it going?"

"Fine." It's so cute. He's trying his hardest to be nonchalant about it.

"Just fine, huh?" I can't help but pry. Now I know how my dad felt when he teased me about my crushes.

"Yeah. She's nice."

"And pretty?"

"Oh my gosh. You're so embarrassing!" Dylan makes his way back outside and slams the door.

"That's what dads are for!" I call out after him.

That kid. Without him, I have no idea where I'd be. He keeps me grounded, and I love him so much.

I feel guilty that he isn't being raised with a mother figure around—except for his Aunt Shelby, his mother's sister. But Shelby lives in Australia and it's hard to connect with the time difference. Anna and Shelby's mother, Sophie, was pretty good about showing up, especially right after Anna left, but she's since passed away. Oh, and of course, Coral is a huge help. But as wonderful as she is, she has her own family to care for.

I suppose that might be why I've been pushing Dylan to spend more time with girls lately. I want him to develop a deeper understanding of them and get used to having feminine energy around.

Of course, that wouldn't be on my mind if I ever got an inkling that he was interested in the same sex, but ever since the poor kid was in kindergarten, it's been obvious that he's had eyes for girls.

That first morning I dropped him off, a group of three or four of them waved at him, and he's been a goner since then.

He takes after me in that regard, too. Although it's been a long time since I've opened myself up to the possibility of romance. There's a rare one-night stand when Dylan's away at a sleepover. Sure, I'm not a celibate. But nothing more serious. When you get burned as badly as I did by Anna leaving us, it's easy to become paranoid and skeptical of relationships.

An hour and a half or so later, as I'm still trying to figure out what to do for dinner, I hear a knock on the back door.

"Good evening, neighbor." It's Mae with a casserole dish covered in foil in her hands.

"What's all this?"

"Well, Mina may or may not have mentioned that you don't have any food in your house."

"How did she…? Ah, Dylan." The snitch. Although, I can't blame him. So far, the only thing I had gotten figured out for dinner was the drinks. And that was going to be water.

"Yeah. Anyway, I was making this for us, so I bulked up the recipe a bit and made some extra for you guys."

There's a kindness about her face that's unlike anything I've ever seen. A kind lawyer? What an anomaly.

"That's incredibly nice of you, Mae."

"Eh. It's really no big deal. We single parents have to be there for each other every once in a while, right?"

"Right." I had suspected that might be the case, but this is the confirmation I needed.

"Oh, and before you ask—I got knocked up in high school, and her dad, Carlos, has never been in the picture."

Like her good heart, her openness and honesty are also refreshing.

"Uh…I'm a divorcee."

"Dang."

I feel my eyebrows furrow. Not the usual response I get to that announcement. It's usually ‘I'm so sorry' and ‘I can't believe anyone would be silly enough to leave a man like you.'

"Come again?" I ask her.

"Oh, sorry. It's just that I owe my grandfather fifty dollars. We made a bet on what led you to be single. He guessed a failed marriage. On the other hand, I went for the more homicidal situation."

This catches me off guard. "You thought I murdered my wife?" I've definitely never heard that one before.

She shrugs. "I don't know. There's just something a bit dark about you."

This, however, isn't something new. People have been saying that to me my entire life. I can't say I know why.

"Oh, my goodness. No, no, no," Mae suddenly says.

"What?"

"Those cobwebs. They're disgusting. No, I will not have our children eating in here with all of that around. Where's your broom?"

"I—"

"Ah, never mind. I'll just use a paper towel."

I sigh in relief because I almost had to confess that I didn't have a broom, which would probably seem odd, as it's one of the first things someone would bring into a new, dirty home.

"Will you give me a boost on this chair?" she asks.

I hold her hand while she climbs up and tackles the dirt. The feeling of her skin against mine is undeniably electric, and I wonder if she feels the same.