Page 48 of Bitter Rival

“Why? Do you need me to whip up a ballgown for you?”

“Close enough.”

It’s not even remotely close.

I spend the day working on the ground with the vineyard crew, sewing and clipping nets together.

Meanwhile, Beckett is driving the tractor, which is rigged with equipment that drops and stretches the netting to form a canopy over four rows of vines at a time to protect them from the birds.

I’m pretty sure we both know who got the better job. The tractor is doing all the work while he sits behind the wheel, barking out orders, mostly aimed at me.

“Chop chop, Miss Larsson. No slacking on the job. Those nets won’t sew themselves.”

From my perch on the ladder, I reach into my shorts pockets and come out with two middle fingers aimed at him. He just laughs, looking downright cheerful. Probably because he loves bossing me around.

“It’s pretty ingenious,” Hunter says just as if Beckett invented this system instead of finding out about it on the internet.

According to his research—which apparently was extensive—Beckett claimed that this is the best practice. And everyone believed him because he’s Beckett Heyward. The rightful heir. The man in charge. A royal pain in the ass.

“That he gets to ride the tractor while we do all the grunt work? Absolutely.”

Hunter laughs good-naturedly and holds the two polyethylene nets together so I can work my magic with a giant sewing needle.

I really am beginning to feel like Cinderella.

“I think I preferred it when you were locked in your cave working on spreadsheets,” I tell Beckett on the way back to the house after a very long day.

“You’re never satisfied, are you?” Beckett says with a tsk. “I seem to remember someone telling me it was their fantasy to see me sweaty and shirtless and driving a tractor. And now I’m fulfilling all your fantasies and you’re still complaining?”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh like I’m a difficult woman to please and he’s been knocking himself out to make all my wishes come true.

“Here’s my new fantasy. You standing over a hot stove in an apron cooking our dinner. Shirt optional.”

“Keep that hot chef fantasy stored in your dream castle. One fantasy per day is more than enough. Let’s not get too greedy.”

He has no idea how right he is.

But by the time I get in the shower, my sexual fantasies starring Beckett Heyward are a forgotten memory.

My arms are so sore I can barely lift them to shampoo my hair.

And by the end of the week, after sewing my way through all the vineyard blocks, I’m ready to kill my new boss.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Daisy

“Have you and your boss had sex yet?” Callie asks when I find her in the lab inputting data into her laptop on Friday afternoon.

Beckett has automated all the vineyard and winemaking activities.

Nothing makes the Dark Lord of the Manor happier than having data readily available at the swipe of his gigantic thumb.

No more clipboards, binders, and handwritten work orders for us!

We’re cloud based now!

With proper data entry, reports can be generated within minutes!

---