Page 18 of Close to My Heart

My jaw ached from how tightly I was grinding my teeth. I’d never heard anyone describe our farm as quaint. Sure, it was smaller than the Monroe Christmas Tree Farm, but that didn’t mean it was cute.

“Are you excited to cut down a tree?” Sutton asked Ashton.

His brow furrowed. “I thought we could grab one from the lot. You know, one that’s already precut.”

“What’s the fun in that?” I couldn’t help but ask. I was goading him, but I couldn’t help myself. It was like someone else had taken command of my body and was calling the shots. “Real men cut their own tree down.”

Ashton’s eyes flashed with irritation, and Sutton shot me a confused look. I didn’t have answers for her because I didn’t feel like myself.

His hand drifted down Sutton’s arm, and his fingers interlaced with hers. The irritation melted into a smile. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?” Sutton turned, her free hand squeezing his bicep.

Was her chest pressed against his arm, or was it just me? It was little consolation that he couldn’t feel anything more than I could when I was close to her. I was sure he was imagining all the ways he could get her naked after this farce of a date.

“Whatever you want,” Ashton said to her, and I barely restrained myself from breaking him in half when Sutton kissed his cheek like she had mine.

I gestured with my hand as I took off for the farthest field from the barn, the one that was uphill with rocky terrain.

“What’s wrong with these trees?” Ashton huffed as he tried to keep up with my pace.

That told me he didn’t work out. He spent all his time in his fancy country clubs and offices, and the most workout he got was swinging a golf club while sipping a cocktail.

I paused so I could see his expression. “I’m taking you to the family’s field. The one we don’t let anyone else cut from. They’re the best trees. You want the best, don’t you?”

He swallowed hard. “Of course.”

Sutton merely grinned at Ashton.

Not wanting to see, I resumed my pace.

Normally, we’d drive to the family field, but I was in the mood to test this guy, and so far, he was losing. He didn’t work out, he dressed way too nicely, and he smelled too good. Fuck. I sounded like a judgmental asshole, but it didn’t stop me from pounding my way up the hill, getting joy whenever Ashton stumbled.

He was an entitled prick and not nearly good enough for my best friend. And the biggest problem was that Ashton didn’t realize that. He thought it was the other way around, and I was going to be happy to disabuse him of that notion.

There was a niggling thought in my head that Sutton might not like the way I was acting, but I was too far gone to rein myself in. This train was off the tracks and barreling down a mountain. Nothing could stop me from the cringeworthy crash at the bottom.

When we’d passed the fields open for cutting and hiked farther away from any other customers or public parts of the farm, I slowed. The field where I’d just cut down a tree with Sutton. My heart hurt at the memory. Why couldn’t it be me on Sutton’s arm?

I kept coming back to the same idea but there was zero chance Mrs. Rosesmith wanted Sutton to marry me. Maybe I’d kill two birds with one stone: piss off the grandmother and protect Sutton.

“Are you okay?” Sutton asked.

When I turned my attention to her, she was still holding Ashton’s hand, but she was frowning. “Of course, I am.” I wasn’t the one who was sweating and breathing hard. He was going to have to dry clean those clothes.

But as I resumed walking into a row of the field, I quickly went through a pros and cons list. Pro— I get to marry Sutton, the woman I’d been lusting after my entire life. Con— I probably had to keep my hands off her because it would be a fake arrangement. Positive— I get her out of this asshat’s clutches. Negative— I still won’t be able to touch her how I want to.

My head was starting to ache. Why did I think it was a good idea to crash Sutton’s date?

“Maybe you could tell us something about the trees?” Ashton said, his voice full of that commanding authority he gave to people he probably thought were lesser than him. The servants, the waitresses, the help. The idea burned in my gut. Did Sutton think the same?

5

SUTTON

Iwanted to ask Wes what the hell was wrong with him. He was grumpy and surly and practically running up the mountain. I got that he wanted to show us the best trees, but I’d hoped for a romantic date. Not one where I was sweating from exertion.

Ashton’s hand was sweaty, and his cologne was sickeningly sweet in the outdoors. I preferred Wes’s natural scent. He smelled faintly of the soap he’d used in the shower, and I was almost positive he used bar soap.

---