She wished he wouldn’t touch her.

But he steadied her all the way into the barn. When he released her and stepped away, she had the urge to pull him back to her so she could wrap herself in his arms.

“Let’s get the feed and hay moved first,” Luke said.

He positioned a hay bale where she had a view of the crew and told her to sit herself down and stay there. “If you see us doing something wrong, say so,” he said. “Otherwise you’re not involved.”

With a few brief instructions, he had organized his crew and started the process. The giant football players tossed seventy-pound bales of hay and hundred-pound sacks of feed as though they weighed no more than a medicine ball. It was pure sensory pleasure to watch the flex of their muscles under sweatshirts and jeans.

Luke worked right alongside them, setting the pace. They joked and taunted one another, but they were clearly a team, and Luke was clearly their leader. Even Gavin Miller got absorbed into the group, his laughter floating over the good-humored insults. Miranda basked in the warmth of their camaraderie. It struck her that this was one thing Luke would miss when he retired, this sense of being a crucial part of something larger than himself. Especially since he didn’t have this kind of closeness with his own brother.

Her heart ached for him. Knowing this was a dangerous weakness, she jumped up from the hay bale. “I’ll go get some drinks. Hot or cold?”

She noticed that everyone, including Gavin, waited for Luke to speak. “I could go for some of that apple cider your sister-in-law mentioned this morning,” he said. “Cold, because I’ve worked up a thirst.”

There was a general murmur of agreement, so she jogged off toward the farmhouse.

Patty was in the kitchen, already putting together sandwiches and defrosting homemade soup. “Holy moly!” she said, putting down the bread knife and leaning against the counter. “Maybe I was wrong about you and the quarterback. He brought his teammates up here. To do farmwork.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“No, you weren’t wrong. He’s just feeling guilty,” Miranda said, shrugging out of her coat. “Where’s the big water cooler? They want cold apple cider.”

“Guilty about what? Dumping you? He could change that.” Patty went to the pantry and pulled out a large, insulated beverage dispenser.

Miranda still wasn’t going to tell her about being fired. “No, it has to do with my job, so I can’t tell you.”

Patty’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you didn’t have much contact with him on a professional level.”

Miranda gave her a little information. “He has relatives.”

“Interesting.”

Patty helped her fill the cooler and dug out some large plastic cups. As Miranda zipped up her coat again, her sister-in-law put her hands on her hips. “Guilt may be a powerful motivator, but I don’t think that’s the only reason he came here in a helicopter. On his day off. With three football players and a bestselling writer.”

As Miranda slogged back to the barn, with the cooler in one hand and the bag of cups in the other, she wished she could share Patty’s optimism.

Chapter 27

Lunch was a boisterous affair once Patty made her admiration for football clear. The men told war stories about their college days, their rookie years, and their Super Bowl journeys. Miranda was sure the tales were highly edited, but she enjoyed the glimpses into the life of a professional athlete. It became obvious that these men looked to their quarterback for leadership both on and off the field. No wonder he felt so responsible for everyone around him. Sympathizing with the pressures on him was another feeling she preferred not to have, so she banished it to a dark corner of her heart.

At one point Luke looked intently at Gavin and said, “None of this goes in a book.”

The writer held up both hands. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Bullsh . . . crap,” Luke said.

“As you know, my keyboard is collecting dust right now.”

“You’ll break through soon.”

Gavin gave a half nod and the conversation went back to football.

When the last roast beef sandwich and homemade brownie had been devoured, Luke stood up. “We’ve got more hay to stack.” He looked down the table at Miranda. “We can handle the rest of the job from here. You stay inside where it’s warm.”

She didn’t want to stay inside. She wanted to be out there, squeezing in memories of the last hours she would spend in his company. She lifted her chin. “I’ll help Patty clean up before I come out to check on your progress.”

The kitchen emptied swiftly, and Miranda lingered a moment by the window, watching the band of large men stride with athletic grace across the leaf-strewn grass of the yard toward the barn.

“That’s a sight that makes your ovaries dance, doesn’t it?” Patty said.

Miranda choked, and glanced over to find her sister-in-law gazing out the window over the sink. “I won’t tell Dennis.”

Patty turned with a grin. “Hey, just because I’m happily married doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty in all its forms.”

“I’ll go get the invalids’ trays,” Miranda said, wanting to avoid any further conversation about Luke. Despite begging from both husband and son, Patty had forbidden them from joining the lunch, saying that giving the football players their germs would be a poor way to express their gratitude.