Page 80 of Strike Zone

“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?”

---