All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

Clay shook her hand. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm.”


“Of course. You see this as a setback. I suppose in the short-term it is. But not to worry, Clay. I have every confidence in what you’re going to accomplish.”

Clay wished he could say the same about himself. Having doubts had been bad enough, but this was a serious problem.

Mayor Marsha turned to Annabelle. “Thank you for recognizing the find. This is going to be so interesting for the experts.” She smiled. “They’ll start complaining about how we keep calling them back. Last year for the gold find and earlier this summer for the cave paintings.”

Annabelle’s gaze shifted away at the mention of the cave paintings. “Yes, well, these seem to be very genuine graves,” she said. “While I feel badly for Clay, the importance of the find is extraordinary.” She briefly leaned against him. “I know this messes up the planting for now, but just think. We could have a small museum, maybe a working site with archeologists that tourists could observe. That would be fun for your Haycation people.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Clay said.

The mayor studied him. “Do you have enough land still? I can speak with the owner of the outlying area and see if he will sell you a few more acres. The price would be fair.”

“Thank you,” Clay said. “I appreciate the offer. I’m good for now. We’re going to have to clear more land to plant. We still have the equipment, so it’s not a big problem. If the weather holds, the fall alfalfa will still be planted.”

There was more polite chitchat. When the mayor and Annabelle started talking access roads, Clay excused himself. He walked toward the main house. Nate was waiting for him.

“How bad is it, boss?” the other man asked.

“Bad enough. We’re going to have to clear two more acres to make up for this one.”

“That’s going to put us behind.”

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

CHARLIE ARRIVED HOME from her shift to find Clay waiting on her front porch. Once again he had coffee and a box of Danish. While the caffeine and sugar rush were appealing, she was willing to admit she was just a little more interested in the man himself.

She climbed out of her truck, aware this wasn’t one of their scheduled times. Still, she went all tingly anyway and had to consciously keep from running up the walkway.

“Morning,” he called when he saw her. “Is it okay I stopped by?”

“Of course.”

He rose as she approached. She expected him to step out of her way. Instead he leaned in and kissed her.

The contact was brief. More greeting than seduction. But she liked the way he was so matter-of-fact about it. As if they’d reached the place where they kissed easily and without thought.

She took the coffee he offered and led him inside the house.

“Any more news on the burial site?” she asked. He’d called her at the station the previous day to tell her what had happened. She’d had to hang up to go on a run.

“The experts will be arriving today. Nate and I have figured out where we’re going to plow next. Time is ticking for my crop.”

He smiled at the words, but she could see worry and self-doubt in his eyes. When he set the Danish on the table, she crossed to him and put her hands on his shoulders. A seemingly casual act. Fortunately Clay couldn’t feel her pounding heart or know there was nothing casual about it for her. Touching a man was still strange. But she was determined to follow the “fake it until you make it” philosophy of getting by when it came to Clay.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, staring into his dark eyes. “This is a setback, but one you can manage.”

“I know. Mayor Marsha came by. She said if I needed to buy more land, she knows a guy.” The smile briefly returned. “Okay, she didn’t say it like that.”

“Good. Because I don’t like thinking of the mayor as someone who knows a guy.” She dropped her hands. “You’ll get your fall alfalfa planted and all will be well.”

“I’m telling myself that.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m still questioning myself on picking Nate. Maybe that was a mistake. Even Dante said to listen to my gut and I didn’t.”

“Are you unhappy with Nate’s work?”

“No.”

She tilted her head. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Rafe’s always been in charge. He was running the family when he was ten. Shane managed one of the biggest Thoroughbred breeding programs in the country. I’m a former underwear model.”

Self-doubt she understood. She took his hands in hers. Again, a conscious and slightly uncomfortable action, but it seemed appropriate.

“You’re a smart guy. You have the education and a vision. Drive matters more than experience. If you need help, ask. Until then, don’t assume you’ve made a mistake until the evidence is in. If you do screw up, then fix it.”

“Advice I’ve heard before.”