it on top of another set of folders.
Her jaw tightened as she said, âI had that there for a reason.â
Narrowing his eyes, he gave her the smallest grin and shrugged.
âWe need to talk about the arrangements. I assumePops will be buried in the family cemetery but I donât know what church the service will be at.â
Reaching out for the stack of papers heâd just moved, she banged them on the desk to realign them and then set them on top of yet another pile to her right.
âEverythingâs already taken care of. Iâve spoken to Mr. Brown at the funeral home. We were just waiting for your arrival to set the dates. Viewing is tomorrow afternoon with the burial and service on Friday.â
She finally looked at him. Not the sideways glances sheâd been giving him since heâd sat down and invaded her space but a full-on stare that set the acid in his stomach to roiling. He didnât like the expression in her eyes, yet he couldnât look away.
âWith any luck you can be home by Friday night.â And out of my life was left unspoken but hung between them anyway.
âActually, I expect Iâll be here for a couple weeks, at least. Until I can get everything in order to sell. I might have to come back and forth until itâs all final butââ
âSo youâre selling.â Something about the inevitability in her tone of voice bothered him. It was the logical choice. Of course sheâd have expected it. Right?
âObviously. I canât stay here, Ainsley.â
âOf course not. Youâve moved heaven and earth not to be tied to this place. Why would anything change that now?â
Ainsley turned to stare once more at the book open in front of her, hiding her face and her eyes from him.
âI wanted to askâ¦what are your plans?â
âPlans?â
âAfter I sell the farm. I mean youâve been here for a long time. I just didnât knowâ¦â His words trailed off. He wasnât exactly sure how to finish the statement his brain had started without thinking.
Ainsley laughed, a broken, scraping sound that was so unlike the pleasant tinkle of laughter he remembered that it seemed to burrow beneath his skin and itch. Relentless and uncomfortable, like chiggers.
âItâs a little late for you to start worrying about me now, Luke. Iâll be fine.â
âItâs not thatâ¦â Again, he let his words trail off, realizing that this time theyâd come out completely wrong. He hadnât meant them the way she was sure to take them. Of course he had worried about her. Not that sheâd want to hear that. âI just didnât know when you were planning on leaving. I was hoping I could convince you to stay on until after the sale.â
He could see the emotions swirling behind her light blue eyes as she finally turned toward him again, a jumbled mess he couldnât decipher.
âIâll pay you, of course. More than enough to make up for any inconvenience.â
And then suddenly fury leaped away from the rest, filling her eyes with a glowing blue flame. Scraping back her chair, Ainsley snapped the ledger closed on the desk and walked around him. All the while her eyes burned, eating away at him inch by inch.
At the doorway she turned, one hand resting on the jamb. His eyes were drawn there by the subtle glitterof a ring in the splash of sunlight. He recognized the ring immediately. His motherâs wedding ring, the family heirloom his father had given her.
The fact that it was on her right hand instead of her left meant little. He knew where it had come from. Logan. And all over again he was reminded of a past heâd much rather forget.
And then her voice, low and sad pulled his attention back to her face.
Gone was the anger from moments before, replaced with a disappointment that was even worse. Anger he could deal with. Anger he could understand and recognize as an