His Hometown Girl. Karen Rock

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      CHAPTER TWO

      A WEEK LATER, at Burlington International Airport, Daniel Gleason shifted in his work boots and peered up at the arrival and departure board. Jodi’s Chicago flight was on time, meaning it must be landing. Any minute now and she’d stride through the terminal gate and back into his life. A foreboding feeling settled in his gut. Would her local roots make the community trust her more than the other Midland suits? Sell their farmland to her? Worse, would seeing her rekindle his old feelings? He gulped back that bitter thought.

      “Yep,” a farmer beside him murmured. “The corn should be a foot taller by now.” The man pulled off a John Deere cap and scratched his bald head. “Rain better slow up soon.”

      “Every path’s got a few puddles,” Daniel quoted absently, his mind focused more on the appearance of his lovely—and cunning—childhood competitor. The woman who’d walked out on their relationship ten years ago without a word.

      “Heard you had some kind of socialist plan to get us out of this mess, Gleason.” His neighbor’s eyes slid Daniels’s way.

      Daniel waited a beat, then gave the man a reassuring smile. “A co-op isn’t socialist,” he said evenly. “It’s practical. If we produce organic products from humanely treated animals, we’ll get a higher price per pound of milk. It’s our best strategy for making it through this economy, and the weather. But we can’t apply for the upgrades grant unless we form the co-op.”

      The farmer spat chewing tobacco into a handkerchief. “Still sounds socialist. And I didn’t fight in Vietnam to go commie now.”

      “But—”

      A voice announced a disembarking plane, interrupting Daniel.

      “That’s my wife.” The vet clapped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Look, kid. I served with your dad and I know you’re trying to keep his farm going since he can’t. But we’ve got to look at more realistic solutions. We’ll talk more at the next town council meeting.”

      It’s my farm, too, Daniel wanted to interject, though he knew better than to be disrespectful. Patience and persistence would win his neighbors to his cause. And losing was not an option. Like his ancestors, he valued a life shaped by his own hands and the independence that came with it. He’d protect his farming community’s traditions, no matter the odds or the adversary. His pulse stuttered. Even if it was Jodi.

      “Now disembarking, Flight 152 from Chicago, Gate A,” a boarding agent announced into a microphone. Passengers streamed by her podium and Daniel stepped forward, his heart beating out a forgotten rhythm.

      Then he spotted golden hair...and there she was, Jodi, more beautiful than he remembered. Thinner, the youthful roundness of her face replaced by finer contours of jaw and cheekbones, dressed up in a yellow tank top and a flowered skirt instead of the jeans he was used to, her waves smoothed straight. But she was still the gorgeous girl next door. His breath caught at the vision she made as her hair flowed around her face while she secured a struggling child in a stroller.

      Tyler. Grace had filled him in on Jodi’s son and divorce when he’d offered to pick her up at the airport. It was part of his “keep your friends close and enemies closer” strategy. He didn’t have to worry about the “know your enemy” tactic, however. Every one of his earliest memories included Jodi—some of the best and a few of the worst.

      “Daniel?”

      Jodi’s large blue eyes peered from him to the handwritten sign he held and she frowned as she read it, her lips silently forming the words Jodi Lynn. He forced his eyes from her full mouth, the sight doing something funny to his heart until he caught himself. Those feelings were from a lifetime ago. One he had no intention of reliving.

      “What are you doing here? And I don’t go by Jodi Lynn anymore. Please put that sign away.”

      He lowered it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me. You’ve been gone awhile.” Despite his efforts, it sounded accusing and he hurried to continue. “And Grace had a DAR meeting, so I offered to pick you up.”

      She peered up at signs bearing the taxi symbol. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own.” Her son began to cry, his voice sounding hoarse, as if he’d been doing it for hours. Maybe he had, poor kid. Grace had mentioned the boy was autistic and that keeping him calm in new situations could be a challenge.

      Daniel took her carry-on so that she could attend to her child. “Jodi. Face it, you’ve got your hands full and your aunt wanted me to help you.” After he’d convinced Grace not to miss her meeting, he added to himself. He needed to know what Jodi planned.

      She sighed, although it was hard to tell if the frustrated sound was aimed at him or the plastic-framed glasses her son flung into the crowd.

      A man in a business suit stopped short and spilled his coffee down his shirt. He snatched up the eye gear by its band and advanced their way, his scowl directed at Jodi until Daniel stepped in his path.

      He forced an easy smile and held out a hand. “Thanks for that. Wouldn’t want a child to lose his glasses.”

      The traveler opened and closed his mouth like the bass Daniel had hooked last Sunday.

      He nodded toward a row of boarding-pass kiosks. “Looks like you’d better get going since you’re in such a rush.”

      When the man scurried away, his tie flapping over his shoulder, Jodi turned to Daniel. “You didn’t have to do that.” She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. “I can fight my own battles.”

      He didn’t want to suggest that it looked like her hands were already full with her cranky preschooler, but that was the reason he’d stepped in.

      He passed Jodi the glasses. “Like the one you’re fighting for Midland Corp.” He figured it was safer to put this conversation on professional grounds right off the bat. “Or is it more personal than that?”

      Jodi’s face remained neutral and he wondered if she felt guilty for coming home to sell out her former neighbors. It was one thing for her parents to lose their farm. Another matter for a community to lose its way of life. He wouldn’t let her get away with it.

      “This isn’t personal, Daniel,” she said at last, her voice muffled as she bent over her son and pulled the glasses over his head. “It’s business.”

      His jaw tightened. “It involves people’s lives, so I’d say it’s personal.”

      “Baggage for Flight 152 now unloading on Carousel C,” the overhead announcer blared.

      When she spoke, Jodi sounded cool and matter-of-fact. A stranger’s voice. “Let’s table that if you don’t mind. Now, if you’re my chauffeur, we should get my bags. Oh, and this is my son, Tyler.”

      Amazing how much the child resembled his mother. “Hey, Tyler.”

      But the boy ignored him and gnawed on his stuffed elephant’s ear. The kid looked stressed.

      “Let’s get your luggage.”