Best Part of Me: Tie the Knot Farm, #2

By Evelyn Adams

A brother's best friend story from NYT and USA Today bestselling author Evelyn Adams about about a woman who plans for every contigency and a man who runs from order. Right into each other's arms.

Adeline Ryan has always played by the rules and taken the road most traveled, but that hasn't gotten her anywhere close to where she wants to be. She's stuck in the same small town she grew up in with too many siblings, an overbearing mother, and a job she hates but can't quit because she inherited it from her late father. But now that her high school crush and brother's best friend is back in town, all the old rules have flown out the window.

Tech guru Mason Andrews swore he'd never return to the town that considered his neurospiciness a form of juvenile delinquency. But his much loved aunt's illness has brought him back, and now that he's created a billion-dollar business, he's been given a rock star's welcome by the same people who used to look down on him. All he has to do is follow the rules to remain the town's new Golden Boy. But Mason never met a rule he didn't want to break, and that might include falling in love with his best friend's little sister.

With the clock ticking on his time in Beaton, the woman who color codes her multi-tab plans and the man who thrives on chaos are going to have to learn how to bend if they want a chance at happily ever after.

*~*~*~*
Aided by her grumpy sexy handyman, Grace is trying to save her farm, but the goats and an amateur arsonist have other ideas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Adams
• Release date: Aug 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9781944801281

Book preview

1

THE RULER OF GOD’S AND MEN

ADELINE

I wasn’t expecting a welcome committee. I dropped my carry-on bags and smiled at the small shaggy dog guarding the steps to my porch.

That wasn’t right. You’re not supposed to smile at strange dogs in case they took the whole showing-your-teeth thing the wrong way.

Tempering my enthusiasm, I crouched down and offered my hand for the dog to sniff. The dog—mutt, really; I doubted it had a pure-bred bone in its body—didn’t hesitate. He or she trotted over and pressed its head into my palm, demanding attention.

Well, hello. I scratched behind the dog’s floppy ears. You’re not scary, are you? Where did you come from?

I glanced around for any sign of the dog’s origins. Aside from the addition of pastel-colored plastic Easter eggs hanging from the tree in Mrs. Overstreet’s yard and slightly demonic-looking plywood cut-out rabbits sprouting along the pathway, everything seemed as normal as it had before I left. Unless one of my immune-to-change neighbors suddenly decided to buck convention and get a new pet, the dog must have wandered in from farther away.

Poor baby. The dog thumped its tail, managing to look pathetic and excited at the same time. You must be hungry. The thumping increased in pace and intensity. Let’s go get you something to eat and then we’ll see if we can find out who you belong to. Whoever it was needed to do a better job of keeping track of their pets.

Standing, I brushed off my knees and grabbed my bags. Packing light was a skill I’d inherited from my dad. Mom never went anywhere without a full set of luggage and enough clothing and accessories to handle anything short of tea with the royal family. Not checking a bag eliminated the possibility of the airline losing it and meant I could avoid baggage claim with the people having reunions with loved ones all around me.

With four brothers and a sister, I shouldn’t have a shortage of people to pick me up. But with his new position at the hospital and trying to single parent his girls, my oldest brother, Elijah, didn’t have time for one more thing in his life. Logan was probably off campaigning somewhere, because prospective senators didn’t pimp for votes around their minuscule hometowns—not if they wanted to win. Jackson lived halfway across the state, and Melanie was much too pregnant to play Uber. I needed to call and check on her. If he wasn’t on call with the fire department, Noah would pick me up, but he’d have to close the bookshop. I couldn’t ask him to do that.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the dog was following and climbed the steps to my small shotgun house. I wasn’t about to bother my siblings with their busy lives, and there was no way in hell I’d volunteer to spend two hours in the car with Mom while she grilled me about why I took the trip in the first place. I couldn’t explain why turning thirty made me feel like I ought to know what I wanted to be when I grew up and not settle for a career I fell into by default. Not when that career had been my dad’s business. Better to pay for long-term parking.

I liked living alone, but coming home after a trip and having no one waiting to meet me felt a little extra alone. Except this time, apparently, I wasn’t coming home to no one. There might not have been anyone waiting for me at the arrivals gate, but at least this furry guy seemed happy to see me.

I had no intention of hanging eggs on the tree in my front yard, but I needed to at least put a spring wreath on the door before Mrs. Overstreet reported me to my mother. Taking off on my own modified Eat, Pray, Love retreat—actually a yurt in the Adirondacks, because that was all I could manage—didn’t earn me a pass from doing what was expected.

It was one of the best and worst things about living in Beaton, North Carolina. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, and the sense of tradition that anchored me could go from feeling like home to feeling like it was wrapped around my neck in a heartbeat.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a mixing bowl, filled it with water, and set it in front of the dog, who immediately started to lap away at it, getting as much water on the hardwood floors as in its tummy.

You were thirsty. It was stating the obvious, but I liked having someone to talk to, even if it was just a lost dog.

I stroked the animal’s head, and it paused long enough in its mad dash to hydrate to give me what I assumed was a grateful look. I’d been gone for over two weeks, so there wasn’t much of anything to eat in the house. I grabbed an almost empty jar of peanut butter from the pantry and scraped it clean with a spoon. Finding bread or even crackers was a long shot. The spoon would have to do. Sitting on the floor, out of the range of the spray, I held my meager offering and waited. The dog abandoned the water and began to lick the peanut butter with such enthusiasm, I had to tighten my grip or risk losing the spoon.

Can I see? I reached for the tag hanging from the dog’s collar. The word NOMOS and a phone number was stamped on the metal disk. Nomos, huh? Interesting name. At the sound of its name, the dog tried to lick my face with the same devotion previously reserved for the peanut butter. Stop! I made a halfhearted attempt to squirm out of his reach. The slobbery ear kisses bore a remarkable similarity to my last date, with less cringy consequences. I bet the dog had better follow-through, too. He might devour my peanut butter, but he wouldn’t stick me with the check. We better let your owner know you’re safe.

Reluctantly, I reached for my phone. I hadn’t given it much thought before. Growing up with a house full of kids, Mom had been hesitant to add chaos, but it might be nice to have a dog now. My life could use some unpredictability.

Nomos laid his head on my lap, his damp chin making a wet patch on my jeans.

They must be worried about you. I stroked his head while I waited for his owner to answer the phone. If he were my dog, I’d be worried about him. I’d be putting up flyers and organizing search parties.

After five rings, the mechanical voice of the voice mail woman instructed me to leave a message. What kind of person didn’t bother to set up their own voice mail greeting? The same kind of person who gave their dog a ridiculous name, apparently. And then lost him.

I left my name, number, and, after a moment’s thought, my address. Lost dogs acting as front men for ax murderers seemed like a long shot.

Don’t worry, baby. I stroked the dog’s shaggy fur. We’ll find your person.

Maybe Melanie would have some idea who he belonged to, and it would give me a chance to check on my sister, who had to be enormously pregnant by now.

Seasons on the Square. How can I help you? Melanie answered on the fourth ring, sounding exhausted, and I made a mental note to swing by the restaurant to see if I could take some of the pressure off her.

Hey, how’s the peanut?

Addy! You’re back. More like a watermelon. I swear, I’ve been pregnant forever.

I smiled into the phone. It hasn’t been forever.

Nick keeps trying to tell me that too. Honestly, the man doesn’t have the sense God gave a flying squirrel. One more comment about what a blessing all of this is, and I’m going to run him over with the car and raise the baby on my own.

Nick was probably safe. Melanie loved him like crazy. She had since we were all in school together, but her voice held enough of an edge to warrant caution.

You’re right. That was thoughtless. What can I do to help?

A sigh carried over the phone. Don’t worry about it. I’m just tired. Lack of sleep makes me cranky. I didn’t think that kind of thing was supposed to happen until after the baby was born. How was the yurt?

Cold. So cold and quiet. Nothing but snow and my own thoughts. I wasn’t a fan of either at the moment.

I’d hoped the time away would help me discover my purpose and get in touch with my passions. Find the thing I was born to do. Or at least figure out how to get on the path to somewhere I actually wanted to go. All the sleep, cocoa, and journaling in the world—with stickers and colored pens—hadn’t gotten me any closer to my goal.

I remember thinking complete thoughts. It was nice. It’s about the only thing I remember. Stupid hormones. I’d forget my own name if it wasn’t on my driver’s license.

Oh sweetie, you wanted this, didn’t you? You’re getting the family you always wanted. I was going out on a limb, but Melanie sounded desperate. Maybe reminding her that she and Nick got pregnant on purpose would make it easier for her. Or not.

I wanted a family, not this nine-month endurance test.

The dog flinched at the sound of her voice through the phone, and I rested my hand on his back to reassure him.

Forget I said that, said Melanie after a pause. It is a blessing. I know it is. I’m just not fit to be around people until after the baby is born. I should closet myself away with Netflix and Goldfish crackers and stop inflicting myself on sane people.

That seemed like an extreme response, but I had no idea what to say to make things easier. I love you. Let me know if there is anything I can do.

Not unless you can carry this watermelon around for a while. I’ve got to go. I have to pee again, Melanie said, frustration thick in her voice. Love you, too.

Well, that wasn’t good. I set the phone down but didn’t bother to get up. The feel of the dog’s soft, warm weight leaning against my thigh was a comfort after the impossibly long day and even longer trip. I’d almost convinced myself to let the dog up on the couch so I wouldn’t have to sit on the floor when the phone chirped. Maybe that’s your person.

I glanced at the screen and grimaced at Mom’s picture smiling back at me. Taking a deep breath, I braced and answered.

Hi, Mom.

Thank the good Lord! You’re home safely. Not that I would know if I hadn’t called.

One, two, three…

I would have been stuck watching the news, looking for signs the plane had gone down. Or for a pileup on I-64.

Four, five, six… If I kept silently counting, I might be able to avoid screaming into the phone or hanging up on my mother, neither of which was worth the fallout afterward.

Or a sex-trafficking ring abducting young women from New York. Honestly, Adeline.

I’m always careful, Mom. I was never in danger.

My mother had an inherent suspicion of anything north of the Mason-Dixon line, but this was crazy, even for her. Her ability to obsess over anything related to her children amplified after Daddy’s death. Since Melanie got married and pregnant, I caught the brunt of it. I knew she was compensating for grief, but it wasn’t easy.

The dog squirmed, and I realized I’d inadvertently tightened my grip. Relaxing my hand, I searched for an exit from the conversation. I couldn’t maintain civility for as long as Mom was capable of talking. The dog picked up his head and let out a woof a few seconds before I heard the knock on her front door.

Is that a dog? When did you get a dog? You work too hard to have time for a pet.

The old accusation in my mother’s voice set my teeth on edge. How was I supposed to find a man and produce the expected grandbabies if I worked so hard? How was I supposed to support myself and take care of Daddy’s business if I didn’t? My mother had never been overly bothered by the practicalities of earning a living.

He’s not mine, Mom. I found him. I think I hear his owner at the door. I scrambled to my feet, the dog staying right on my heels.

You’re not going to let a stranger into your house, are you? Check the peephole first. I’ll stay on the phone.

You don’t need to do that. There hadn’t been a murder in Beaton in over a century. The biggest crime spree in the past five years was when Deputy Matthews pulled over Jack Clemson, the local attorney and occasional drunk, for clipping a row of mailboxes on Laurel. Rumor had it when the deputy tried to get Mr. Clemson to take a field sobriety test, he’d tumbled out of the car and said not to worry, he was just riding with the ’shine. That’s what Dottie Meadors told the Monday bowling league anyway. The deputy was her cousin, so her information was probably better than most.

I almost forgot to tell you, my mother said, completely ignoring my statement. You’ll never guess who moved back home. You’d know already if you ever bothered to pick up the phone. Honestly, Adeline. It’s—

Mason Andrews.

MASON

I stood at the end of Adeline’s walkway and practiced four-square breathing to fortify my nerves. I’d need every bit of calm I could muster to face the woman who, with a single phone call, took me right back to high school and the bread and butter, vegetable soup smell of after-school tutoring sessions in the cafeteria. The place where she’d tried and mostly failed to help me learn pre-calc.

Climbing the steps to the porch, I counted my breaths one last time and knocked on Adeline’s door. It didn’t matter that I had enough money to buy the town several times over. Part of me still felt like a high school dropout, and nothing brought it to the surface faster than my best friend’s sister and the girl I’d never felt good enough for. The one who’d grown into the woman holding my dog hostage.

I heard noises coming from inside, but it took a few more moments before the door opened. I could still see the girl who’d tortured me with integrals and derivatives, but the woman standing before me was so much more. Her eyes were the same smoky blue, but her long blonde hair framed a face that was thinner, less round-cheeked pretty and more sculpted. She’d been slight in high school. She was still thin but curvier, with the kind of breasts that dreams were made of—both the adolescent male and grown man kind. And so beautiful, I had to remind myself to pull my mind back to PG—or at least PG-13—territory. Jackson would beat the shit out of me if he knew I had those kinds of thoughts about his sister.

I opened my mouth to do the whole Hello, Adeline. It’s good to see you again thing, like a responsible grown-up. Before I could get a word out, the dog barreled into me with the force of a furry freight train.

Don’t tell me. This sweet puppy can’t possibly be yours. She looked horrified, not that I blamed her.

Feeling stupid made me act like an asshole, and during high school, I’d spent a lot of time with Adeline feeling stupid. I never intended to take it out on her, but I had, my feigned indifference ending up somewhere between superiority and boredom and squarely in pompous prick territory. Better than stupid and incompetent, but it still felt shitty. For a while, she’d stayed sweet in the face of my stony disposition, but eventually even she cracked. As adults, our paths rarely crossed—usually in the context of family things—but when we did, her reaction to me was frosty at best.

Every renegade bit of him. I pressed on in the face of her cool reception and gave in to the dog’s onslaught, crouching down to rub his wiggling body. Dude, you can’t run off. I was worried.

I leaned back to isolate the dog kisses to my neck and chin. The silly dog really had worried me. Somehow the mutt had figured out how to unlatch the back gate, and by the time I noticed, he’d been long gone. I’d been out combing the neighborhood, searching for him, when Adeline called.

I glanced up to thank her and saw her watching me with something a lot warmer than contempt. Maybe we could start fresh as adults.

Hi, Adeline. Thanks for looking after my friend. There was less ice in her gaze. I’d take my wins in small steps if I had to.

Mason, she said, seeming to remember herself.

We stood for a moment, just staring at each other. The obvious thing would be for me to thank her again, take the wayward dog, and be on my way. But I couldn’t seem to make myself leave, not now that I was standing in front of the woman who had occupied an inordinate amount of my teenage brain. Not when we were finally on something closer to even footing. Instead, I did what I’d done in so many negotiations. I waited.

After another long moment, she stepped to the side and motioned me inside her house.

Would you like to come in for a minute?

Thanks. I chose to ignore the edge of exasperation in her voice.

The dog ran ahead of us into the house and plopped down on the rug like he’d lived there his whole life.

Can I get you something to drink?

At the sound of her voice, Nomos opened his eyes and stared at her until she bent and scratched him on the head. I had no idea the mutt would prove to be such a useful wing man, but if he got Adeline to think of me as something other than an asshole juvenile delinquent, I’d slip him an extra biscuit and a can of the good wet food.

Sweet tea, if you have it.

She looked slightly panicked. I’m sorry; I don’t. I actually don’t have much of anything. I’ve been out of town.

Water is fine. Were you somewhere fun? I followed her to the kitchen with its spotless countertops and canisters lined up according to size. She opened the cabinet to get a glass, and the insides of her cabinets were as orderly as the rest of her space.

She’d been like that in high school—one of those everything-in-its-place, list-making people. It made the contrast between her organized, plan-for-everything way of doing things and my fly-by-my-pants, no-plan-allowed thing that much more apparent. Every time I’d fail a test she helped me study for or get another detention because I’d skipped a class I never meant to miss, I’d see the look in her eyes—confusion bordering on pity—and feel small and stupid. It wrecked any chance I had to hold things together long enough for her to see me as something other than her brother’s terminal screw-up friend. Hell, that’s how I saw myself at that point.

The Adirondacks, she said, handing me a glass of water and pulling my thoughts back to the present, where they belonged. It was fun.

She didn’t sound like she meant it, but she didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push, opting to drink my water instead.

Mom said you moved home, she said, filling the empty space between us.

A couple weeks ago. I came home to help my Aunt Marion.

It had been the easiest decision in the world. With Uncle Max gone, there’d been no one to take care of my aunt when she got sick. Nothing mattered as much as getting home to her. When the opportunity to sell my company to one of the entertainment monoliths presented itself, I jumped at the chance and moved back to Beaton before the ink on the deal was dry. I’d stay for as long as she needed me.

I heard she’s not well. I’m sorry. Her expression softened another fraction. Be sure to let us know if she needs anything.

She meant it. Things might be icy with Adeline, but the Ryans were practically family. I knew they’d help if I asked. But, coming from Adeline, the offer also sounded like a dismissal. It was still closer to friendly than we’d been in years. If I stood a chance at fixing things with her—which had just become my new goal—it was probably better not to push it.

I will. Thanks. We should get going. We should, so why couldn’t I get my damn feet to move?

Adeline tilted her head to the side and the crease in the center of her forehead deepened. I itched to reach out and smooth the line with my thumb, which was something I absolutely wasn’t going to do.

Okay, she said, clearly expecting me to leave. I’m sure we’ll see each other around town.

"Actually, I have a problem you might be