Page 58 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

Remi

AlthoughI’dadaptedtomy increased workload, my entire body still ached from the tips of my hair to the tail end of my pinky toe. Not to mention the bruise healing from another nip Mae gave me. That horse disagreed with everything I did and made my life on this farm as difficult as she possibly could—much like her owner.

It’d been a month since Angie found me out and became my unleashed taskmaster. A month of hauling bags of pig and chicken feed, plus fifty-pound bags of grain and bucking hay, caused a knot in my shoulders that wouldn’t go away. At least the fields had all been planted, and I was no longer subjected to picking rock.

I was beginning to understand the true meaning of manual labor.

The chill days of May eased into the warmer temperatures of June. The midday sun beat down on the brim of my Stetson. Nothing hindered it. No clouds. No trees. Cows grazed on bright green grass on the other side of the creek.

A creek I couldn’t manage to get across.

I stood on the footboards of the four-wheeler, which was currently submerged in water. Twisting on the throttle, I attempted to dislodge the tires from the mud. It sank deeper until half the tailpipe gurgled and hissed beneath the surface. I’d driven dirt bikes up steep, shaly passes, yet I couldn’t get this ATV to jump a simple stream.

The first time, I’d gotten distracted by the challenge of the creek when I was moving the cows from the north pasture to the one on the western side of the property. Today was no different … except I should have known better. I’d approached it at the right angle but hadn’t given the ATV enough throttle and ended up short of the bank on the far side.

If I hadn’t hit the throttle hard as I arched downward, I could have been crushed by the four-wheeler. As it was, I remained seated, but my mechanical steed needed pulling out.

Angie was going to give me an earful for this, but I reveled in the possibility of seeing her face all scrunched in irritation. Anytime I managed to get under her skin was a victory for me. Gone was the Angie who explained the things I did wrong, like I was a toddler learning to ride a bike, replaced by a more vocal, demanding woman. Her obvious underlying frustration at my ineptitude gave me immeasurable pleasure, considering the torture she put me through.

How had I ever been attracted to someone so domineering, controlling, and bent on seeing me fail? Well, I would show her how we Texans were more stubborn than the long summer days our state was famous for.

Mud, flicked from my irrigation boot, smeared on the black leather seat as I looped my leg over it and hopped into the creek. It was deeper than I’d anticipated, and water gushed over the edge of my boot, soaking my jeans and my socks.

Damnation. I sucked so bad at being a farmer, and I wasn’t used to sucking at anything.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I walked into the pasture where the cows still ogled me. Wind buffeted against my wet jeans, and goosebumps rose on my arms despite the rising afternoon heat.

I tucked my gloves in my back pocket and answered the FaceTime call. My brother—calling to check in. Happy day.

“Hey, bro. What’re you up to?” I answered in an overly chipper way that I knew annoyed the shit out of him. The wind picked up, nearly blowing off my cowboy hat I’d come to appreciate for more than its looks. I placed my hand on the top of it until the gust of wind died down.

“Remi?” Matthew, never Matt, leaned closer to the camera on his phone. His thick mahogany brown hair and brown eyes matched mine, but the similarities ended there. “What the hell are you wearing?”

My brother was so contrary, he floated upstream. I held my phone at a distance so he could get the full effect of my mud-splattered jeans, and my now-stained white shirt with my pecks and biceps stretching against the fabric. My muscles had bulked up with Nora’s lunches and Angie’s workload.

Not a bad side effect. “My new work clothes. I could still kill it at the club wearing this, don’t you think?”

Matthew put his forehead in his hand and shook his head. “Have you made any progress?”

Ah, right, my real job. They called me ‘The Finisher’ back at the office, like some sort of superhero name. I almost had a costume made with a big ‘F’ sewn on the front, but then I figured that would get misconstrued.

“These things take time, but I think I’ll convince Angie to let me drive the bigger tractors soon.” I laughed but grimaced when I looked back at the ATV. Maybe not.

“You been there for over two months. The Johnsons haven’t even been informed of our offer. Stop playing farmer and do your job.”

The engine noise of a tractor sounded from over the rise. How did Angie always know when I’d made an ass of myself? I swore she spied on me. “If I tell them about my real job and my offer right now, then I’ll be as successful as you and Pop were. You told me I could take as much time as I needed to get it done. This one’s going to take months. I’m working my angle.”

“Your angle gets you into trouble. That Kathryn girl showed up asking about you couple weeks back.” He raised his eyebrow and tipped his head forward, making his recently acquired double chin quite apparent.

“You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

“I try to stay out of your soap operas.”

“What are you talking about? I’m as wholesome as they come.” For the past two months, I’d been the star of my own small-town romance. My wardrobe, truck, and Stetson were spot on. If only I had a dog, a closet full of flannel, and a tragic past …

“How many months are you talking?” Matthew ignored my joke, steering the conversation back on track. “Give me some parameters. I already have a waiting list ready to buy the lots when they become available.”

Dust whipped into my eye, and I rubbed at it. “I’m not sure. Two, if a miracle happens, but more likely six months.” If I could survive that long. I thought of my store and being freed from my family’s business. One last paycheck, one last job, and I’d have it. Had I known then what I knew now, would I have still taken my father’s deal?

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