22. Remi

Chapter 22

Remi

A lthough I’d adapted to my increased workload, my entire body still ached from the tips of my hair to the tail end of my pinky toe. Not to mention the bruise healing from another nip Mae gave me. That horse disagreed with everything I did and made my life on this farm as difficult as she possibly could—much like her owner.

It’d been a month since Angie found me out and became my unleashed taskmaster. A month of hauling bags of pig and chicken feed, plus fifty-pound bags of grain and bucking hay, caused a knot in my shoulders that wouldn’t go away. At least the fields had all been planted, and I was no longer subjected to picking rock.

I was beginning to understand the true meaning of manual labor.

The chill days of May eased into the warmer temperatures of June. The midday sun beat down on the brim of my Stetson. Nothing hindered it. No clouds. No trees. Cows grazed on bright green grass on the other side of the creek.

A creek I couldn’t manage to get across.

I stood on the footboards of the four-wheeler, which was currently submerged in water. Twisting on the throttle, I attempted to dislodge the tires from the mud. It sank deeper until half the tailpipe gurgled and hissed beneath the surface. I’d driven dirt bikes up steep, shaly passes, yet I couldn’t get this ATV to jump a simple stream.

The first time, I’d gotten distracted by the challenge of the creek when I was moving the cows from the north pasture to the one on the western side of the property. Today was no different … except I should have known better. I’d approached it at the right angle but hadn’t given the ATV enough throttle and ended up short of the bank on the far side.

If I hadn’t hit the throttle hard as I arched downward, I could have been crushed by the four-wheeler. As it was, I remained seated, but my mechanical steed needed pulling out.

Angie was going to give me an earful for this, but I reveled in the possibility of seeing her face all scrunched in irritation. Anytime I managed to get under her skin was a victory for me. Gone was the Angie who explained the things I did wrong, like I was a toddler learning to ride a bike, replaced by a more vocal, demanding woman. Her obvious underlying frustration at my ineptitude gave me immeasurable pleasure, considering the torture she put me through.

How had I ever been attracted to someone so domineering, controlling, and bent on seeing me fail? Well, I would show her how we Texans were more stubborn than the long summer days our state was famous for.

Mud, flicked from my irrigation boot, smeared on the black leather seat as I looped my leg over it and hopped into the creek. It was deeper than I’d anticipated, and water gushed over the edge of my boot, soaking my jeans and my socks.

Damnation. I sucked so bad at being a farmer, and I wasn’t used to sucking at anything.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I walked into the pasture where the cows still ogled me. Wind buffeted against my wet jeans, and goosebumps rose on my arms despite the rising afternoon heat.

I tucked my gloves in my back pocket and answered the FaceTime call. My brother—calling to check in. Happy day.

“Hey, bro. What’re you up to?” I answered in an overly chipper way that I knew annoyed the shit out of him. The wind picked up, nearly blowing off my cowboy hat I’d come to appreciate for more than its looks. I placed my hand on the top of it until the gust of wind died down.

“Remi?” Matthew, never Matt, leaned closer to the camera on his phone. His thick mahogany brown hair and brown eyes matched mine, but the similarities ended there. “What the hell are you wearing?”

My brother was so contrary, he floated upstream. I held my phone at a distance so he could get the full effect of my mud-splattered jeans, and my now-stained white shirt with my pecks and biceps stretching against the fabric. My muscles had bulked up with Nora’s lunches and Angie’s workload.

Not a bad side effect. “My new work clothes. I could still kill it at the club wearing this, don’t you think?”

Matthew put his forehead in his hand and shook his head. “Have you made any progress?”

Ah, right, my real job. They called me ‘The Finisher’ back at the office, like some sort of superhero name. I almost had a costume made with a big ‘F’ sewn on the front, but then I figured that would get misconstrued.

“These things take time, but I think I’ll convince Angie to let me drive the bigger tractors soon.” I laughed but grimaced when I looked back at the ATV. Maybe not.

“You been there for over two months. The Johnsons haven’t even been informed of our offer. Stop playing farmer and do your job.”

The engine noise of a tractor sounded from over the rise. How did Angie always know when I’d made an ass of myself? I swore she spied on me. “If I tell them about my real job and my offer right now, then I’ll be as successful as you and Pop were. You told me I could take as much time as I needed to get it done. This one’s going to take months. I’m working my angle.”

“Your angle gets you into trouble. That Kathryn girl showed up asking about you couple weeks back.” He raised his eyebrow and tipped his head forward, making his recently acquired double chin quite apparent.

“You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

“I try to stay out of your soap operas.”

“What are you talking about? I’m as wholesome as they come.” For the past two months, I’d been the star of my own small-town romance. My wardrobe, truck, and Stetson were spot on. If only I had a dog, a closet full of flannel, and a tragic past …

“How many months are you talking?” Matthew ignored my joke, steering the conversation back on track. “Give me some parameters. I already have a waiting list ready to buy the lots when they become available.”

Dust whipped into my eye, and I rubbed at it. “I’m not sure. Two, if a miracle happens, but more likely six months.” If I could survive that long. I thought of my store and being freed from my family’s business. One last paycheck, one last job, and I’d have it. Had I known then what I knew now, would I have still taken my father’s deal?

Without a doubt, yes. I couldn’t stand being the man who ripped properties from families who’d farmed them for one hundred years. Sure, I was good at it, but it was such a downer.

The engine noise grew louder. Even with Angie in on my double life, I wasn’t ready to subject her to my older brother. He’d ruin everything I’d worked for.

“Get it down closer to two. I believe in miracles.” His flat tone indicated otherwise. The wind made it hard to hear Matthew’s response. “And answer Kathryn’s messages, so I don’t have to be the one doing your dirty work.”

My nocturnal activities nettled my brother, which gave me a good reason to continue with the status quo. Sometimes I opted to take girls back to my parents’ mansion and surrounding grounds. My brother lived in the guest house on the property, while I preferred to crash in the pool house.

These were our buildings by unspoken agreement, which suited me fine. More often than not, the women I took home swung by a day or two later and ended up finding Matthew. Considering my job, I should be good at hard conversations, at break ups. Where I could handle them, I didn’t like the tears, so my brother provided the perfect solution.

I made it clear before starting up with any woman I wasn’t looking for commitment. This didn’t slow down the gold-diggers and the hopeless romantics. For those women looking for love yet determined to warm my bed, I’d tried to make it abundantly clear I wasn’t a good guy. I neither deserved to be loved nor did I want to be tied down by it. The pool house arrangement was exceptionally convenient in my book.

“I’ll do my best.”

Angie parked the tractor next to me.

“I gotta go,” I said without looking at my brother and hung up on him while he was mid-sentence.

Angie wore her typical button-up plaid shirt with jeans and her cowboy boots. She was as hot as a two-dollar pistol on that tractor, and how I loathed her.

She placed one hand on her waist and shoved a finger at the stuck four-wheeler. Her hip jutted out, accentuating her figure with all the curves and softness I appreciated. I blinked and narrowed my eyes, refocusing my mind on the true nature of my taskmaster. She’d made my life hell, and I’d had enough.

“How did you manage to do it again?” A strand of her hair slipped loose from her ponytail and fluttered in front of her narrowed eyes.

“I was going after a calf,” I lied, but it sounded like a legit reason to go crashing into a creek.

“And last week when this happened?”

“That calf’s a sneaky little bastard.” I shot her a humorless smile, but she saw through my lie.

“You don’t have to do anything with the calves. They’re with their mamas.”

I shrugged. She got me.

“Son of a monkey!” she shouted and shoved her hands in her hair. I found her tendency to swear like an old man cute. “You do more damage than good.”

As cute as a spine on a cactus. That comment was all the opening I needed. In two strides, I covered the ground between us, so I stood right in front of her, forcing her to look up at me, the shadow from my brim covering half her face. “Don’t give me that. You have been working me so hard I barely have time to get everything done. It’s no wonder I make a few mistakes trying to keep up.”

“A teenager could do the work I ask you to do.”

“A teenager wouldn’t last a minute. I doubt anyone could hold up to your standard,” I said loud enough to ensure she heard me over the wind gusts. “I mean, I’m working until midnight with a headlamp most nights to finish the shit you have on your lists, and all you do is criticize me when I slip up. If this farm had an HR department, I’d report you.” I folded my arms and leaned to the side.

Her lips twitched upward. “HR is in the kitchen having an early dinner. Be my guest.” She gestured toward the house. “Though the severance package they offer will be in the form of baked goods.” The spark in her eyes jumped like hot grease on a skillet.

Oh, she thought I was giving up, the frustrating little porcupine. I dropped my hands to my sides and leaned within inches of her face. “You won’t get rid of me that easy.”

Her characteristic tropical aroma filled my nose, and in an instant, my anger fled, replaced by a strong desire to pull her to me and shut her up with my lips. Frustrating woman. How could I want to throw her into the creek and kiss her all at the same moment?

In my weakness, I brushed the stray hair back behind her ear, and she stiffened, stepping back from me. But her distance didn’t stop the heat or the current of anticipation encasing us.

Consequences be damned, I lifted my hand to—to do I didn’t know what. Possibly pull her to me and kiss her senseless so she’d see me as more than a farmhand hired by her parents to torment. More than the man sent here to buy her farm. More than the tool she used in her attempt to date Smoot. Her phone pinged, and I never got the chance to figure out what my hand would have done as she stepped even further from me. Which left me with my arm lifted in the air. I raised my hat and brushed my hand through my hair before setting it back in place, hoping she didn’t notice my awkwardness.

I didn’t need to worry. Her eyes were glued to her phone, thumbs typing rapidly.

“Him again?”

She nodded. “I have another date with Dan. A big one. He wants to go dirt biking in a couple of weeks.” She walked back to the tractor, retrieving the chains.

So, it was Dan now. Not Smoot, or Daniel. Just Dan. I guess that was good for me, considering I’d been put in charge of this catfishing operation. Over the past three weeks, he’d been a pain in my side. Boise wasn’t far enough away. Smoot would show up at the most inconvenient times. I’d walk in with an armload of wood and there they’d be, cozying up playing cards.

At what point had he met the parents? Game night was mine . Smoot needed to back on out of my way, or I’d … do absolutely nothing because this was the plan all along! I took a deep breath. Okay. I might as well admit it. I was jealous of not only the time he spent with Angie but also of the time he spent with Tony and Nora. At what point had I become so possessive of the Johnsons?

“Have you even ridden a dirt bike? A motorcycle? Anything on two wheels except for a bicycle? And have you forgotten your fear of heights?” My questions came out more intense than I intended. “You’ll be driving that dirt bike on mountain roads that have cliffs.”

She walked past me to the creek. “I used to have a fear of heights.”

I pushed the brim of my cowboy hat up, tilted my head, and raised my eyebrows at her.

With one look at my expression, she quickly pressed on. “I’ll get over it. And I can learn to ride a dirt bike. Besides, isn’t it part of the deal for you to prepare me for that?” She hooked a chain around the hitch of the ATV.

“You could barely make it up a telephone pole, and now you think you’re ready to ride a dirt bike up shaly mountain passes?” I straightened the length of the chain and secured it to the tractor, a hard edge in my response.

The longer Smoot was in her life, the more he’d grow to annoy me until he surpassed my brother on that front. I couldn’t let Angie be collateral when that 100-jump wonder’s stupidity caused an accident. Land deal or not.

“I can manage.” The waiver in her voice betrayed her confidence. “You want me to give up, so you win. Spoiler alert. I’m not giving in. I’m not selling my land.”

Oh, she was going to sell. She just didn’t know it yet. I ground out a breath, harnessing the tension in my fingertips. Why did this have to be so difficult? “What do you want me to do this time?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She threw her arms out in front of her once again. “Teach me to ride a dirt bike. I can do it.” She made her way back to the tractor with a stiff, determined stride.

She’d be led along an abandoned mountain path by a man she’d lied to from day one. A man she memorized lists of terms to even understand what he was saying. A man so conceited he couldn’t take enough time to spot the lies Angie told him. The enigma she presented.

I’d interacted with my share of girls and not one of them was as intriguing as her. Even if she made my life as difficult as putting socks on her devil rooster.

One of the reasons I couldn’t rid myself entirely of my attraction to Angie was, despite being handed one of the hardest challenges life had to offer—watching someone she loved dearly carved away by cancer—her view on the world remained positive. She believed the best in everyone, albeit naively. Re: her blind trust in Smoot.

“I like that about you. You’re optimistic.” The words slipped from my mouth before I had a chance to swallow them.

She paused with her foot propped on her tractor and crinkled her eyebrows together. “Like it’s that hard to ride a dirt bike. I’ll definitely be better at it than you, Mr. I-can’t-forge-a-creek.”

I was almost relieved she interpreted my comment with a sarcastic lens. Upon straightening my shoulders, new life sparked into me. I’d much rather fight with Angie than delve into my true and impossible feelings for her. “Whatever. The first time you tip your bike, you’ll cry like a nanny goat for its mama.”

She laughed. “You say the strangest things. A goat? I remind you of a goat? And a baby goat is a kid, by the way.”

“Nanny goat sounds better.”

“Are all Texans as weird as you?”

“Yes, ma’am. But not as stubborn as you. And that’s saying something. Bless your heart.” I hooked my thumbs in my belt loop and put every ounce of Southern twang I had into my voice.

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“What’s wrong with calling you ma’am? Just trying to be polite.” I’d been programmed to speak like this since birth. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. A bit of a cold relationship with my parents, but at the very least it was respectful.

“Do I look like I’m old enough to be your mama?”

“No.”

“Then don’t call me ma’am.”

“Why are you hell-bent on winning over Smoot anyway?” I veered the subject back to the real thorn in her life. “You shouldn’t have to pretend to be something you’re not to get a man. Not a man worth having.”

“Like you never lie to the many women you date?”

“Nope. I’m so honest you could play poker with me over the phone.” I quirked my lips into a half smile.

“Do you ever think you could find one woman to settle down with? Spend forever with?”

My parents’ open-door relationship destroyed the lies I’d been told about true love. Plato’s theory that we were all down here searching for our other half was full of bull honky. I’d chosen not to waste my life on a futile search for my soulmate.

Angie didn’t compute in this declared bachelor lifestyle. If any guy treated her like I treated the women I took back to the pool house, I’d be tempted to punch them in the gut.

Why? I didn’t know. One thing I did know—“Nothing lasts forever,” I said aloud, my thoughts once again escaping from my head.

“Love does. Look at my parents.”

Tony and Nora. The one exception to my theory, and yet their love was still ending in heartbreak.

“For every one of them, there are hundreds of others like my parents.” I tried to pass my comment off as a joke with a nudge. “You have more faith in the world than I have.”

She didn’t bite and pulled herself back onto her seat. Her lips tugged into a slight frown. “How sad your life must be—but of course you’re an evil overlord, so it makes sense.”

Starting the diesel engine, she slammed the glass cab door before I had a chance to respond.

“You still owe me tractor lessons. And don’t think Oscar counts!” I shouted at her, but she made a motion like she couldn’t hear me.

I took out my phone and texted her. No dirt bike lessons until you teach me to drive the big tractor.

In every negotiation, always keep the upper hand.