Sometimes, you really can't go home.
"Why are you attacking a perfectly innocent sign?”
She blinked. “Seriously? You have to ask?”
Of course he did. Nothing about this made sense. Why had she come back? Why did she care? And what would taking an ax to a sign post accomplish? “Yeah, afraid so.”
She gestured up at the sign. “This is my grandparents’ farm, Jack.” Maren shouldered the ax. Jack took a step back. Just in case. “No one is putting anything here.”
She swung the ax, and it landed on a spot about six inches below her previous cut.
Again, his lips pulled into a reluctant smile. “And so you decided to mangle that pole?”
She shot him a sideways glare, then returned her attention to the task. “I’ll manage. It’s been a while, but it’s like falling off a bike, right?” Her words were accentuated by slight pauses as the ax landed.
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