Page 25 of Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

When we end the call, I’m left to stare up at the ceiling once more. For another hour, I wrack my brain to think of any other option that might be better, but as tiredness washes over me, I’m left with nothing. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

So it’s door number three. What other choice do I have? The idea makes me feel sick to my stomach. But I know what I have to do. I just need to eat humble pie to do it.

10

Jake

Being an early riserhas so many advantages. You feel like you have a head start. You get to hear the first call of the birds as they talk to each other from one tree to the next. You can wish the sun a good morning as it breaks across the horizon. And you can do all that while enjoying a steaming hot cup of coffee, like the one I currently have in my hand as I sit on my porch and look out over my domain.

There are gurus all over the world pronouncing how great rising early is for you, but I’ve been doing it since before a lot of these guys knew how to write. It’s been drilled into me. When we were kids, we didn’t have a choice. Momma always warned us that if we weren’t up and out of bed to help Pops, there’d be a bucket of ice water on its way to our room.

She only needed to do it once. While Cal’s the one who got it, the rest of us learned the lesson real quick.

As kids, getting out of bed when it was still dark out was a dreadful chore. Now that I’m older and wiser, I love it, and I’mgrateful to my parents for instilling such wisdom in us all. More than that, I’ve learned how hard Pop worked to feed and raise his family. You don’t understand that when you’re a child, but when you have to walk the same path, you get a deeper appreciation for the sacrifices he made for us.

Finishing my coffee, I stand and give myself a huge stretch. There’s lots to do today, so I better be getting on with it. Turning to head into the house, I halt when I hear the sound of an engine approaching. Frowning, I glance at my watch.

“Who the heck is this at 6:15 in the morning?”

Shading my eyes against the blazing orange ball that slowly climbs into the sky, I’m even more surprised to see Gerry’s truck traveling toward the house. I can’t imagine it’s Gerry driving it. He would have called first.

It has to be Tilly. But what is she doing here?

Thirty seconds later, she pulls the truck to a stop outside the ranch. Elsa leaps off the porch and starts barking, but I call her back. Tilly might have introduced herself yesterday, but I doubt that will give her the confidence to leave the truck while Elsa’s there.

With my faithful companion now sitting at my heel, I give the command for her to stay on the porch while I make my way down the steps. Tilly is just rounding the hood of the truck when I reach her.

“You know you paid your debt, right? You didn’t need to come back.”

“I know,” she says.

She catches my eye and then nervously looks away. My gut tells me there’s more coming, and readying myself for whatever it is, I say, “So, what are you doing here?”

“It’s, well…” She flounders.

If she tells me she needs me to go on another date, I think I might toss her over my shoulder and throw her back intothe truck. Once was enough. I’ve already had to call Keith and apologize. Thankfully, the man has a sense of humor and saw the funny side to the entire catastrophe. Though I’m sure he wasn’t laughing when he had to clean up that night.

In a way, all the customers did have great fun. If nothing else, the people of Baskington are pretty laid back.

“Spit it out, Til. I’ve got cows to feed.”

It feels a little weird using the nickname that hasn’t passed my lips for years, but it happened without even having to think about it. I suppose it’s true what they say. Old habits do die hard.

“It didn’t work,” she blurts.

It takes me a second to understand what she’s talking about, and then I say, “He didn’t buy it?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, it was a bit of a long shot.”

She flashes me a look, and I realize I’ve only ever thought that in my head. I never voiced it at the time because I didn’t think she wanted to hear it, but putting myself in her ex-boyfriend’s shoes, I think I would have seen right through it, too.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” she cries. “If you didn’t think it would work, why did you go through with it?”

I shrug. “You were so determined it would. I figured you knew this guy better than I did.”

“Great,” she hisses. “So not only was it all for nothing, but had you told me what you thought, we could have saved ourselves a whole lot of humiliation.”

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