Page 23 of No Time for Traditions

“You were always the best writer in school, and I’m sure you’ve only gotten better.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks reddened again, and this time, he was sure she blushed.

“How about this? Promise me you won’t give up on writing, and I’ll promise to do all I can to make sure Grandpa Barnes’s place is always taken care of.”

Brittany narrowed her eyes and leaned back on the bench. “How can you promise that?”

“Just trust me.”

* * *

After hours of little sleep,Greg pulled back the covers and gave up trying to rest. He flipped on his bedside lamp, which sat on an old wooden crate he’d turned on its side for a nightstand. Yes, it looked cheap. But also temporary. Which was what he was going for.

No man wanted to turn thirty living under the same roof as his parents. And while he still had a few good years before then, he preferred to spend them in his own place. An apartment that wasn’t part of his childhood home, or better yet, an actual house.

Greg sat up and stretched, his stomach growling as he did. He hadn’t eaten as much as usual last night due to the distraction of Brittany. A welcome distraction, but one that had left him hungry. Add to that sleepless hours of replaying their conversation in his head, and his stomach let him know it needed some attention.

Why had he promised Brittany he could keep anything from happening to Grandpa Barnes’s farmhouse? He sure hoped nothing bad would happen to it. And he would dang sure try his best to protect it any way he knew how. But making a promise that big might’ve been a mistake.

Maybe he could talk to some of his friends who might want a fixer-upper. Or a young, engaged couple who would want some acreage. People called him all the time for perc tests before they built a home. He could suggest they buy Grandpa Barnes’s place instead.

Greg yawned and trudged to the bathroom. He shaved and brushed his teeth. It was still dark outside, but he may as well be productive if he couldn’t get any sleep.

He walked out to the living room and kitchen area and turned on the light. The sad little Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room like an eyesore among the otherwise empty space. Greg rolled his eyes and went to the mini fridge to find some eggs. He fired up his portable stovetop and slapped some butter in a pan.

He’d gotten so used to using portable appliances and makeshift furniture that he might as well live in a camper. Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be a bad idea if he could buy some land. Greg mentally brushed through all the land he knew about in Hillside, for sale and otherwise. There were plenty of potential properties for a future homesite.

“Whoa.” He looked down and flipped his eggs just in time.

After toasting two pieces of bread, Greg sat on a barstool with a jug of milk. He ate his egg sandwich and drank milk from the jug, bachelor style. He pictured various properties in his mind, then his eyes grew wide, and he nearly choked with anticipation. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

He swallowed another gulp of milk and grabbed his laptop off the card table. Greg finished his food as he waited for his drafting program to load. A moment later, he stared at the maps for the Barnes properties. All of it had either hills of mature hardwoods or flat fields ready to farm. No doubt, they’d get top dollar for every piece they planned to sell.

But maybe he could negotiate something with the Barnes men since he’d done all the survey work. Greg rubbed his chin and zoomed in on the map. He’d check out some spots before going back to work at the farmhouse.

After studying the maps to find which piece of the Barnes land Greg thought he might like and could get for a reasonable price, he shut down his computer and got dressed. He checked on Buttercup, who acted a little annoyed that he’d woken her in the dark. As soon as he gave her some food and spread out her blanket, she laid her head down and fell back asleep. He probably should do the same, but at this point, he was committed to the day.

Greg didn’t need to go by the office, so he headed straight for the Barnes’s land. The sun rose on his way, casting a yellow tint over the frosty fields. Alabama snow, as he liked to call it. A lot of people might not care for the deep South, but he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Other than a few truck drivers, he had the country roads to himself so early in the morning. Greg liked it that way. No distractions from the beauty of nature. He whistled to himself, thinking of how much he would enjoy moving out of town.

Once he made it to the road leading to the Barnes’s family land, Greg’s stomach started to churn. And it wasn’t from having something besides coffee so early in the morning. It was excitement and fear all rolled into one. Similar to how holding on to Brittany made him feel. Though no piece of land, no matter how vast or valuable, could compare to her.

He parked on the far end of the property beside a big hill. Acres of pine trees lined this area that ran over hills big and small until it turned into fields where Marty’s brother, John, planted corn or soybeans each year. Greg didn’t think they cared too much about the woodland leading up to the field. Maybe he could talk Marty into selling it to him for a decent price. He could have the timber cut and use it to build a log house.

Greg smiled with excitement over his plans. It all sounded great until Autumn’s voice echoed in the back of his mind.

I can’t believe you would even ask that of me. No woman would want to live there.

Greg blinked back a tear. He wasn’t a crier. Never had been. Even as a kid, when a grandparent died or when he fell out of the tree and broke his arm. He never cried. Sure, he got sad, but it didn’t show through tears.

No, these were tears of anger. Tears of confusion. Tears of regret.

He loved living in Hillside. He loved having his own business here. But would he ever find a woman who loved both him and his lifestyle?

Chapter 9

“Now you can lick the spoon.” Sarah pushed the almost empty bowl over to Scotty.

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