20. WYATT

20

WYATT

The bed is empty beside me. It's not just empty, but cold. Did Wren not make it to bed last night? I left her downstairs in the dining room doing research on goat's milk of all things.

She was in her element making lists and creating spreadsheets. My mom has given her access to all our financial records and our entire operation. I overheard her asking Ford and my dad what needed to be done every day to make the farm run efficiently.

My dad has really taken a shine to her. I'll never forget the look on his face when they came flying up the bend to the barn.

I throw on some clothes and head downstairs. The house is quiet. Unusual for this time of day. Normally everyone is busy shoving food and coffee down their throats before heading out for their morning chores.

When I walk into the kitchen I see why. Half my family is gawking at Wren asleep at the table. The others are in the den staring at a wall of sticky notes like they're at an art exhibit.

"Did she make it to bed?" Ford asks me.

I shake my head. "No, looks like she's been at it all night." I glance at some of the notes she's made.

"Her ideas are good." Colt nods and taps a finger on a notepad. "We can all get what we want." I'm sure they are, but they also take money. Money we don't have.

"And how do we accomplish," I turn the paper in front of Colt, "opening a bakery right now? That's money we don't have. We can barely pay the mortgage and taxes on the land."

"Wren's working on a budget," Ford says. I shake my head laughing quietly. Ford is pragmatic. Maybe more so than Wren. The fact that he thinks a budget as flimsy as the paper it's written on will be the magic key is laughable.

"A budget still needs to be funded. Where is the money going to come from? Do we have a grove of money trees somewhere I don't know about?"

"Keep it down. You're going to wake her up," Colt says. His comment infuriates me further. As if I didn't have any concern for Wren's well-being.

"All I'm saying is she's smart. She's broken down each item into tiny steps. Hence the sticky note shrine." Ford chuckles.

"I know she's smart," I snap. It's one of the things I like about her. "I'm taking her upstairs." I slip one arm under her legs and the other around her back.

"I wasn't finished," she mumbles sleepily into my neck.

"You can work on it later. Right now you need to sleep."

Once upstairs, I lay her down on the bed and tuck her under the fluffy, down blankets. "You have my brothers thinking you can save us." I kiss her forehead then remove her glasses and put them on the table where she can find them later.

Maybe she can. She already has me believing in things I never thought I would. I guess I can try and hope for a financial miracle too.

"Today we'll work on cleaning out the barn on the south side," I overhear Ford say as I reach the bottom step. The south barn hasn't been used in years. It sits between two vacant fields we haven't had the money to put to good use yet.

"Wren's right. If we sell what we don't need, we can use that money to fix the barn and prep the fields for a summer and fall harvest," Willow says.

"We can easily clear out the whole front field by the main road for parking," Colt says.

"Parking for what?" I ask, joining my family around the table. Eyes dart around the room silently discussing what to tell me and gauging my reaction.

"Opening up the farm to the public," Mom says.

"Is that something we can do? I thought the plan was to wait until we had more money to invest," I say.

"It was the plan before because it seemed impossible to do it without funding," Ford says.

"And now?" I question.

"Now, thanks to Wren, we have a solid plan. Look at this." Colt passes me a legal pad with the Newhouse Knight logo at the top. I chuckle to myself. Only she would bring office supplies with her on spring break.

The legal pad is now a step by step guide detailing what we need to do in order to open up the farm for a summer flower picking season. She's researched everything from what flowers to grow and when to plant. How much to charge and even calculated potential revenue.

"Here is the business plan for the summer." Willow hands me another notepad. How did Wren put all of this together in one night? "It's amazing, right?"

I nod. It is. Wren is amazing. She's thought of everything.

"Willow and I will work with Wren this week getting the marketing set up while y'all clean out and fix up the old barn. We need to either sell the junk or take it to the dump," Mom says. Dad mumbles something about there not being any junk in the barn.

"Then we can start working the fields here," Mason points to one of the open fields on the blueprint, "and here for planting pumpkins in July."

"Do you think we can pull it off?" I ask. It's something we've talked about doing multiple times. We know that opening up the farm and charging an entrance fee will be a good way to get revenue, but the logistics always felt overwhelming to figure out.

Knowing how to farm and knowing how to run a business are two different things, especially when your back is up against the wall financially.

"I do. We'll start small. I think that was our problem. We wanted to do everything at once. We can begin with the front fields. Give people driving by something to look at. Then every season we can vote and determine what project is next." Ford seems confident.

"What about the debt? The foreclosure threats on the land?" I ask.

"Your dad and I are going to talk to the bank. Wren thinks if we show them the business plan they may be willing to work with us knowing money will start coming in soon. If not, we can get an investor."

Me. I'll be the investor. And while I'm playing baseball, everyone I love will be here building our legacy without me. I hate it, but it's the only way.

"We should get started on the barn. Did you want to ride out with us, Dad? Tell us what you want to sell and keep?" Colt asks.

"Can I ride in the Gator again?"

"No. You got one over on the new girl. It won't work again," Ford says.

"We'll see about that," Dad mutters.

"Mama, can you have Lenny show Wren the chickens and how to get eggs when she gets up from her nap?" I didn't take her inside the coop yesterday. The goats were enough for one day.

"Sure, honey." Mom gives me a hug. "I really like her," she whispers in my ear. I like her too, Mama. I like her a whole hell of a lot.

"How did we manage to accumulate all of this crap?" Mason asks.

We've been clearing out the barn for at least two hours and it looks like we haven't even made a dent. This old barn is one of the original buildings on the land. It's four thousand square feet of rust and garbage.

"This stuff is not junk. They're antiques. Call up one of those pickers. They'll tell you the same thing," Dad says.

"It's junk, Dad. We should be taking this stuff straight to the dump." Colt walks out with another load of scrap metal.

"I'm going to call some of the guys to come up here. You'll see. I bet we have a thousand dollars by the end of the day." Dad pulls out his phone and starts texting his friends.

"A thousand dollars?" Ford raises an eyebrow. "What do you want if you win?"

"When I win," he starts, his eyes not leaving his phone, "I get to take my woman up to our hill on the Gator."

"She'll never agree to that," Mason says.

"I know how to handle my girl. Don't you worry about that," he says and we all snicker at him. No one handles Mama. That woman rules the roost.

"Fine. And if you lose, all of this goes to the junkyard where it belongs," I say, dropping a load of spare tractor parts in a pile.

We work for another hour then decide to call it quits. We've sifted through enough to give Dad's friends an idea of what we have. There's no point in us moving it all out if they can do it for us.

As soon as I open the front door, I'm searching for a pair of blue eyes. I find her typing away on my mom's laptop. Her hair's a mess on the top of her head with two pens sticking out of the knot. She's wearing another pair of cutoff shorts and a white tank top.

I need to thank whoever told her to bring those, because they are my new favorite thing. It's a far cry from the linen pants and blazers she wears around campus, yet it suits her perfectly. I have to force myself to walk towards the fridge and not run up to her and give her a kiss.

"Hey," I say walking into the kitchen. "Did you eat yet?"

"No. Not yet," she answers, without looking up from the computer.

"You need to take a break." I get out fixings for sandwiches.

"I will after I send out this email." Wren clicks away on the keyboard.

"Who are you emailing?"

The typing stops for a moment. I glance over my shoulder. Wren is biting her lip, eyes darting around the screen. "Uh, local photographers. I thought we could invite them to come to visit for a preview day. It would be good advertising. I haven't worked out all the details yet."

We . She said we again. What does that mean? And why do I want it to mean she's going to stick around and see this project through? Would she be able to? All of this will be happening at the same time she's supposed to be getting married.

"Did Lenny take you to see the chickens?" I ask.

"She did. They weren't as friendly as the goats," she grumbles, making me laugh. "One in particular has it out for me it seems."

"They'll come around. Eat," I say, placing a plate of food on top of some papers. "Photographers are a good idea." I take a seat opposite her. "I don't know how you got all of this done in one day."

"It's not that big of a deal."

"It is though, birdie. All of your ideas. The way you get everything organized. You have everyone working together. That rarely happens. Normally Ford is yelling at Colt and Mason is off doing his own thing."

"It was everyone's ideas coming together. This is what they want. I only mapped out the most efficient way to make it happen with the resources you already have available. It isn't a foolproof plan."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. You're really good at this." I take a bite of my sandwich as I admire the blush on her cheeks.

"Thanks. This is what I want to do. I like the challenge of finding feasible solutions to help small businesses succeed." A shy smile blooms on her face.

"And this is what you'll be doing working with your dad? "

Wren nods. "Mmhmm," she says, as she chews a bite of her sandwich. "That's the plan. There are still a few details to work out."

"It's your dad's company, they would be idiots not to take you."

"We'll see." Wren's uncertainty is strange. I don't understand why she thinks she wouldn't get the job. Is this why she's getting married? To guarantee a job? That doesn't seem right. What is she not telling me?

"Did you get the barn cleaned out?" she asks, changing the subject. I'm glad. I don't like thinking about her marrying someone else.

"Good enough for now. What's next on your list?"

"I was going to start working on social media but we need a name for the farm first. Everyone seems to have their own agendas on the matter. We do have a front runner," she says, smiling again.

"I can't wait to hear this."

"Lenny Land." We both laugh.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that one?"

"I told Lenny she can maybe build a playground. She can help design it and name it whatever she wants. What?" she asks. I realize I've been staring at her.

"Nothing. You just amaze me. I like watching your brain work. It's hot. Turns me on." I waggle my eyebrows and put the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth. "I'm going to go shower. Then I want to take you somewhere. "

"Alright. I'll finish up and put all this away so the table is clean for dinner." She takes her plate to sink.

"Birdie," I say. She looks at me over her shoulder. "We need to talk about something." I'm struggling to maintain control and keep my hands to myself. Last night I folded faster than Wren can fold one of my shirts. And right now she's barefoot in my kitchen looking real pretty with the afternoon light shining through the window making her skin glow.

She turns and leans against the counter. "What's going on?"

I walk up to her and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Her eyes cut through any defenses I still had up. "I haven't hidden the fact that I'm attracted to you. If I was a betting man I would say you're attracted to me by the way you reacted to me last night."

"It's a pretty safe bet." She crosses her arms. I smirk.

"I want you, birdie. I'm done skirting around and playing games." I run a hand up her thigh and give her a good squeeze. Her hands find my chest.

"I thought you liked playing games with me." Her head tilts to the side and she smiles at me.

"You're right I do." I can't resist her any longer. I lean in and brush my lips against hers. The kiss starts off slow like we're still testing the waters. She digs her fingers into my hair and suddenly I'm a drowning man. Lost in this woman.

I pin her against the cabinet, slipping a hand up her shorts until I reach the trim of her underwear. I toy with the edge of the fabric with my thumb. "If I were to slip my finger inside you, would you be as wet as you were last night?" I kiss down her neck and over her collarbone. Inaudible words encourage me to continue.

"I bet you are. The question is, is it for me or did making all of those spreadsheets turn you on?"

"You and your dirty shirts and backward hats."

"Do you like me dirty for you?" I kiss her after she nods. "How about tonight I make you dirty for me and then I'll lick you clean?"

The front door opens. Wren tries to pull away, but I keep her in place.

"Not in the kitchen," Ford scolds, from behind me. "Cover your eyes, Lenny."

I wink at Wren. Her cheeks are rosy. I don't know if she's embarrassed or worked up thinking about the plans I have for her tonight. "I'm going to go get that shower now. I'll be right back," I say then press my lips to hers one last time.

"The kitchen? Really? I expect that kind of behavior from my brother, but not you," I hear Ford say as I head upstairs.

"We were talking. You can't talk in the kitchen now?" she sasses him back. I'm glad she feels comfortable enough to talk back to them. You have to hold your own in this family.

"Wren, I have a daughter. I know exactly what was happening in here. But sure, we'll go with talking."

"It's not my fault your brother is really good with his words."

I look forward to showing her what else I'm good at later tonight.