Apple of His Eye

By Nan O'Berry

Apple of His Eye

Colleen Dalton's truck runs out of gas on the road to her family's fruit stand. When a forestry agent, Marshall Albright comes to her rescue, little does she know that he is the grandson of her grandfather's worst enemy, Brice Huntington. It seems that the Dalton's and Huntington's have been waging a feud for the past twenty-three years, ever since Laura Huntington left Stephen Dalton at the altar.

Falling in love was the easy part; the hard part is going to be keeping their grandparents from confronting one another. Can their love bring these two warring family's together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nan O'Berry
• Release date: Aug 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393784166

Book preview

Dedication

For the readers, I hope you enjoy this story. May true love always triumph.

Acknowledgements

Iwish to extend my thanks to my beta readers and the folks at Vanilla Mocha Publishing for their work on my cover and their suggestions to make it just spectacular.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

ABOUT NAN O’BERRY

Other books by Nan O’Berry

Chapter One

R eally!

Her fist hit the steering wheel.

Now, of all times?

Colleen Dalton wanted to scream. Instead, she used her hands to shove the door open and step onto the gravel road that led from the Dalton Farm to the produce stand they operated next to the highway, which led from the Yakima Valley toward Seattle. Grabbing the door, she slammed it with such force the chassis rocked. The gravel crunched under her crisp steps all of which did nothing to stop the jets of steam from pouring from the gaps in the chrome of the grill or cool her anger.

Why can’t Granddad buy a new pick-up?

Even as she mouthed the words, Colleen knew the answer – tradition. Everything with the farm was passed down from one generation to the next with the expectation that the next generation would keep it going. Hands on her hips, staring at the old truck, she wondered if this piece of the past had met its match.

Puckering her lips, she blew a deep breath, which lifted the wisp of bangs from her right brow. She squared her shoulders, and then stepped in front of the auto, ready to do battle. Shoot. She grumbled as her fingertips found the metal hot to the touch. She reached into her back pocket and withdrew a folded red bandana. Maybe this will help, she sighed and placed it on the center of the hood. A tentative hand pushed down on the material and she slipped her fingers between the chrome grill with hopes of loosening the latch, but the pressure merely released another belch of steam pushing her back.

You bucket of bolts, she growled. Foot raised; Colleen was about to let go a torrent of abuse on the bumper when the crush of tires rounding the curve stopped her. She glanced over her shoulder at the dull grey-green U.S. Forestry truck and gave a wan smile as the vehicle came to a halt. She walked to the passenger door and the driver rolled down the window.

Could you use some help, a deep male voice inquired.

Peeking in, the shadows revealed a single driver and Colleen hesitated a moment. However, her options were down to walking ten miles to town or swallowing her pride and agreeing. The latter won. Yes, please.

The window powered up and she watched as the truck moved back, then pulled in front, facing her. She cast a forlorn glance at the hissing steam still radiating from the grill and wondered how much this was going to cost. Hearing the door open and the driver’s footsteps move closer, she turned to face her rescuer offering him a gracious smile.

Thanks for stopping.

Sure. He placed his hands on his hips and studied the old truck.

Engine over heating?

Yes. Colleen’s heart gave a skip of a beat. Tall, summed him up in one word, tall and blonde. The loose waist-length, green jacket made the shoulders beneath the tan button up appear a mile wide. She pushed her hair away from her face where the wind had blown it and glanced back toward him.  It was a shame a pair of aviator glasses covered his eyes for she was dying to see what color they were.

Did you try to open the hood? he asked.

Uh-huh. Jiminy, my answer sounds lame. Quickly, shifting her glance to the car, she nodded. It’s still too hot.

Let me see what I can do.

She took a step out of his way as he turned on his heel and with three long strides, was back at the rear of his truck. Metal clicked. His image disappeared as he lifted the window to look for a tool.

I was just coming down the mountain to our produce stand, she explained, wondering why it mattered.

Oh, yeah?

It’s the Dalton stand. You know of it?

Heard of it, he replied in a nonchalant manner.

We grow apples.

Lots of apples are grown around the Yakima Valley.

Colleen cast her glance toward the deep blue sky and clamped her mouth closed to stop the drivel of nonsense rushing from it. Yet her mind seemed determined to keep going. I was going to put out some fresh apples from the orchard, only the car had other ideas.