Page 127 of Tempting Promises
“It does. It’s hard to do something you don’t love all the time and you live this.”
I do. I live here, trying so damn hard to save it because of my mother. I want her home, her family, to live on. I just wish I didn’t suck so much at the dairy side of things. This isn’t what I dreamedof, in so many ways. My goals were to be married and be a mother, to raise a family, not cows.
“One way or another, it’ll work out,” I say, praying it does.
“Okay. I’m here if you need it. I’m just curious, but what did Rowan suggest?”
I exhale, feeling a mix of love and anger. “He offered to merge the farms. I’m guessing that I’d keep my house and land around it, but the dairy farm would sort of fall under him.”
“And you . . . are . . . a complete and total asshole, why wouldn’t you take that and run?”
My head jerks back at that response. “What?”
“He literally would allow you to keep what matters most, the damn house, and you get to still do your cow crap, but not have to constantly worry about the money. So, yeah, are you just...a fucking dumbass for fun?”
“It’s not just the house, Faye. This farm, the land, the cows, the whole thing has been in my family for generations.”
“And? You just said you don’t love it!”
“I don’t, but it’s part of what I was supposed to save.”
She huffs, clearly irritated with me. “Why are you working so hard to save something, the cow part, you hate? Seriously, Charlotte, it makes no sense. Look, if you and Rowan work out and you get married, the farms would merge anyway. Just merge them now and write the ending of the story.”
Oh, Jesus. “Getting a little ahead of yourself there. We haven’t even officially been together for forty-eight hours yet!”
“So, every love story has a beginning.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, our beginning was hate-filled fucking, so . . .”
“All the better.” Faye smiles and leans back. “I guess I can understand a little.”
I truly don’t believe she does, but I’m not going to argue with her because I’m exhausted. “Good.”
“I mean, even incredibly intelligent people like yourself can be stupid sometimes. I guess this is your turn.”
I grab a handful of popcorn and toss it in her face, which starts a small food fight and a lot of laughing.
I grab the roll of fence wire and my bucket with all the tools I need and walk out to the area where the hole is. I need to fix this so I can let the cows roam out in this field since they’ve pretty much cleaned out the pasture they’re in. I need them to eat more of this so I’m not spending as much on grain.
The walk out feels peaceful. Last night, I went through all the expenses again, where the most debt is, and tried to squeeze a dime out of a penny.
It was . . . frustrating.
I think I can make the house payment if I sell off some of my cows. I just can’t do it any other way, and if I’m going to lose the farm anyway, I might as well start thinning the herd anyway.
I posted in the group I’m in and got two offers in ten minutes, which is amazing, and they offered to come today, which is the immediate cash infusion I desperately need.
I arrive at where the first hole in the fence is and look around. What the hell?
Where is the hole?
I swear it was the ninth fence post from the east.
I count again, looking at the posts in the immediate area to see if I miscounted.
Nope. No hole.
I flagged it. I remember it was the post by the elm tree.
