Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

GEMMA CLAYTON

Gemma knew the motor for her honey extractor was broken. It’d destroyed three of her frames when it spun too fast. Putting anymore combs in it wasn’t worth the risk, but she was almost out of time.

Rumbling drew her attention. With a sigh, she turned toward the wobbly table with prepped jars for honey. Her phone vibrated.

Checking the screen, she smirked while answering. “You better be on your way. I called you three days ago.”

“Well, hello to you, too. I’m fine, thanks for asking,” her brother said.

“My hives are almost honey bound. I can’t deal with swarms right now,” Gemma lamented. “The fair is around the corner and I need to get the honey out if I’m going to have anything. You promised.”

“I know,” Parker sighed. “Listen. I need you to come over to the Welker Farm.”

“Why? Didn’t Miss Patty die?”

“The new owner has a bee problem.”

At that, she sat up straighter. “Yeah?”

“I knew that would get your attention.” Parker chuckled.

“How big we talking?”

“Think Old Man Tilton’s trailer.”

Gemma’s brows lifted. That hive had been massive. It’d taken two days to get the bees out. A job like that could get her a new honey extractor.

“Okay. I’ll be there at ten tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect.”

With the call ended, Gemma placed her phone down on the table with too much gusto. It rocked. The jars on top jangled as they collided with one another. One was too close to the edge and dropped.

“Shit.” Gemma dove to catch it, knocking the shortest leg with her thigh.

Several more glass containers tumbled down. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t save them all. Two landed on her belly, four smashing onto the cement floor.

“Goddamnit,” she muttered. Just what she needed. Now she had to prep more jars to put honey in them.

At least she had the time, considering the machine was still broken. With a sigh, she glanced at her broken extractor. It’d been old as dirt when she’d gotten it. Five years had been a gift.

With a smile, she reached over and patted the metal drum. “You were a great coworker, Buford, but It’s time you retired.”

Humming to herself, Gemma loaded her Ford F-150 with everything she would need for bee relocation. Her handheld smoker, a bee keeper suit, a few hive boxes loaded with frames, and three plastic clips in case there were multiple queens. It fit nicely beside the few power tools she needed.

As she started her truck, one of her favorite songs came on. Driving down Big Pine Road, she tapped the steering wheel and sang along with Taylor Swift’s Teardrops on my Guitar .

Turning down the curvy driveway, she smiled despite herself. Fond summer memories of trailing behind Parker and Dean flooded her mind.

As the small stone cottage came into view, it looked just as it had twenty years ago. She wondered who would’ve bought it.

Dean left Marshall seventeen years ago in an RV to join the rodeo. His brother left a year later for college and when he didn’t come back, their parents joined him in Texas. Poor Miss Patty had been all alone the last few years of her life.

Glancing to her left, Gemma snorted at the sight of the F-250. Someone was overcompensating.

Hopefully, the new owner would preserve the old Welker Farm’s beauty. She sighed, lifted her fist, and rapped on the door a few times. Waiting for someone to answer, she surveyed the property.

Oh. The barn. They might as well tear that shit down. It was just a bunch of rotting wood, barely stuck together with a few rusted nails. It looked beyond saving.

“Morning.” His deep baritone stroked her straight to the core.

Sharply, she shifted her focus and blinked rapidly. “Dean?”

“Gemma.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked myself the same thing this morning,” he said on a chuckle.

It couldn’t be. When he left Marshall, he hadn’t looked back. How was he standing there, on the other side of the screen door — shirtless, of all things, holding a steaming cup of coffee? Holy hell, she could see his happy trail.

“No. I mean…” she took a deep breath, trying to collect herself from the shock of seeing him. “You left. I thought you were determined to be bucked off a horse in every state.”

When his features filled with melancholy, and he shifted his focus to the mountains behind her, she felt like such an ass.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

He lifted his mug and took a sip. “It’s fine. I’m here to settle Gram’s estate.”

“Of course.” He could’ve told her he was there to sacrifice foals to the god of the rodeo and she would’ve agreed.

After flipping through the pages on her clipboard nervously, she was desperate to get this meeting back on track. Holding up the contract, she swallowed hard.

“Okay, so um. Parker said you had some bees in the barn?”

“I do.”

“You want them removed?”

“Well, it won’t be much use to me, filled with buzzing bugs looking to sting me.”

“Right. Right.” She nodded and scribbled on the papers. “I’ll have to do some demolition to access the hive so I can remove it.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Do whatever you need to.”

She held up the clipboard and instructed him to sign the contract. Opening the door, he stepped out, and she got an unobstructed view of him—and damn.

Back in the day, his shaggy strawberry blond hair, tall lanky frame, and the bow to his legs, made him the cowboy of her fantasies. Now, with a hint of scruff on his chin, and several other scars about his face, he was much more rugged.

No one should be that hot without a license.

With big loopy strokes, he signed the bottom of the paper. “There.”

She glanced down. “That’s one hell of an autograph.”

“I’m out of practice.” He winked.

Her body was on fire. Was he flirting with her? For the love of all that was holy. “Okay. Well. Alright.” She stammered and stepped back.

Her heel found the edge of a step. Rocking, her eyes widened as her balance dipped in the wrong direction. As she flailed her arms, desperately trying to fly, lest she fall backward and down the stone steps, her life flashed before her eyes.

As she was about to go, he grabbed her forearm. “I gotcha.”