Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I can’t say I blame Bill. In his old age, he doesn’t have time for drama, avoids it like the plague, and he knows damn well Cole could make or break anyone in this town. Cole’s got so much money it wouldn’t surprise me if he offered Bill seven figures cash not to take the deal.
“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard, Hunter.”
“And I’m telling you it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that.”
“Maybe so,” Bill says. “But I’m almost eighty years old, son. I don’t need complicated.”
I swallow my frustration, trying to salvage it. “We’ve been working on this deal for months. You’re gonna throw it away over gossip?”
There’s a beat, and then Bill says, “Cole offered me twenty percent more than what you were gonna pay.”
And there it is. Just as I suspected.
I clench my jaw until it burns, staring at the concrete floor like it’s personally offended me. “I’m disappointed, Bill. I thought you were a man of your word.”
“I am. But I’m also a man who knows a better deal when I see one.”
I don’t tell him he’s wrong.
We hang up, and I stare at the dead screen in my hand, rage simmering under my skin. This is Cole’s doing. Retaliation for being rejected, for getting embarrassed in public. He’s got money, power, and no one to keep him in check. That makes him dangerous, especially in our little farming community, where word spreads fast and everyone’s a friend and a competitor at the same time.
Cole is the worst kind of man. And he’s not going anywhere—he’s a goddamn local fixture, sitting on tens of thousands of acres like some spoiled prince wearing his daddy’s crown.
A truck door creaks open, and over walks Cal, wiping sweat from his brow. I hadn’t heard him pull up. He isn’t wearing his trademark smirk and he doesn’t have some witty, smart-assed line for me. He simply gives me a look like he’s about to deliver more bad news.
“Just drove past the Highland farm on my way here,” he says. “Corn was just starting to sprout, but the leaf buds? They’re turning yellow already.”
I frown. “That can’t be right.”
“It’s the whole field, boss. It’s like someone sprayed everything with bleach or something. I dunno. Never seen anything like it.”
I nod, putting the pieces together. “Cole.”
Cal’s eyes narrow. “Cole Benton?”
In addition to inheriting his father’s massive operation, the man owns an aerial ag business. Planes, helicopters, crop-dusting, spraying. If someone wanted to sabotage a field without setting foot on the property, that’d be the way. And if he does it in the middle of the night? With a helicopter? It’d go by virtually unseen, especially the Highland farm. It’s miles from the nearest house.
Cal shakes his head. “Why the hell would he do that?”
“Because he wants what I have.”
Cal scratches his temple. “Land?”
I shake my head. “No. He wants Wren.”
He lets out a low whistle, chuckling under his breath. “Women are not worth it, man.”
Normally I’d agree with him. But I think of her smile, the way she laughs when she’s trying not to like me, the way she looks when she’s naked and happy and completely unguarded.
“This one?” I say, silently plotting how I’m going to deal with this obnoxious waste of human space. “She’s worth it.”
48
Wren
While Atticus sits at the table, devouring a bowl of cereal, I scroll through my text messages, half-awake but already restless.
Nick hasn’t messaged in a few days. That alone feels like a gift from the universe. Still, I can’t relax. I keep expecting his name to pop up, like a snake lurking in the grass.
Further down, Natalie’s name flashes across my screen.
Natalie: You around today? Want to meet up?
I don’t respond. I can’t—not yet. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she and Hunter had a history and she never breathed a word of it.
I keep flipping back and forth in my mind—there has to be an explanation. Maybe it wasn’t that serious? Maybe she didn’t think it was relevant? But according to Hunter, it was serious to her. She wanted marriage. Babies. A life. It took her years to get over him.
And she never told me.
The longer I let that thought sit, the worse it feels. I can’t just hang out with her like nothing’s changed, like I don’t know there’s a giant unspoken secret between us. But I don’t know how to bring it up either.
I leave her on read and toss my phone onto the couch.
After Atticus finishes his cereal, I poke around the house again, turning over every pillow, pulling open every drawer. Searching for that damn sunflower notebook. Still nothing. It’s like it vanished into thin air.
But the pit in my stomach says otherwise.
“Mom?” Atticus pipes up, wandering into the living room with his favorite stuffed dog. “When can we see Hunter again?”