Page 26 of That Conflicted Feeling
Andhis cheeky banter is as much of a turn-on as his looks.Butthis is not the time for falling for anyone’s gorgeous, sexy shenanigans.Leastof all those of a man whose giant store will wreck my little one ifIdon’t stop it.Ican’t allow myself to be distracted off course.
Ipull up behind my mom’s car with its “GoatMom” sticker in the back window.Thenback up a little, so we’re injustthe right spot.
Maxjumps out with the eagerness of a kid at a theme park and yelps a surprised “Urgh” as he lands in the ever-present puddle that dries out only on the hottest of summer days.
Excellent.First, he hates the van, now he has wet feet.Noone threatens to destroy my business, then tries to buy off my protests, without paying for it.
AMini.Pah.
Hemight be here to talk me around, butI’mhere to make the next hour of his privileged life an utter misery.Heneeds to realize he’s picked a fight with the wrong person.
Maxhas already bounded around to my door by the timeIopen it, a smile on his face that appears genuine despite his feet marinating in brown water.Buthe’s probably very practiced at the fake smile.
“Youokay?”Iask, expecting a tirade about how the filthy countryside has damaged his handcrafted shoes.
“Absolutelyfine,” he says, as if steeping thousand-dollar footwear in mud is completely normal behavior for a city slicker.
There’sa line around the bottom of his pants where they soaked up the puddle, and those shoes are a much darker tan than they were a minute ago.
“Thisis great.”Hegestures to our little white house, the outbuildings, and goat enclosure. “Atleast the developers didn’t snap up your land.Thisis huge.”
Iwon’t wreck his good impression by telling him the furnace has been on the fritz for months, my mom’s bedroom window leaks when the rain blows in a certain direction, and the roof of the goat house could collapse at any second.
Ihop out of the van and slam the door. “Itmight seem huge to someone who lives in the city and thinks growing parsley in a pot in the kitchen constitutes landscape gardening.”
“Plantsare more my little brother’s thing.Hedid give me some sort of green thing once.”Hepulls a sad face. “Itdied.AndInever got over the failure.”
Now, there’s a man obsessed with accomplishment. “Anyway, this place isn’t huge anymore.Lookhow hemmed in we are by the townhomes.”
“Youthink they’re close?”Helaughs. “Thenearest ones must be, what, two hundred feet away?”
Ipoint farther into the distance, where there’s a bit of an incline toward a small hill.
“Seethose houses over there?”
“Theblue ones?”
“Nope.Theones beyond them.”
Hemoves to stand next to me so he can follow my finger.Hisarm rests against mine, causing the same tingle down my side as when he prodded me on the way here.
Damnmy body for reacting to him like this.Mybrain yells at me to step away.Myheightened senses yell louder to stay right whereIam because they’re having way too much fun.
“Allthe way over there?Yeah,” he says.
“Thatused to be the edge of our farm.”
Heturns to look at me, eyebrows raised. “Ofyour farm?Thisfarm?”
“Yup.Itwas started by my dad’s grandparents.”
“Wow.”
“Andnow most of it is townhouses.”
“So, you sold the land to the developers?”
Isnort. “Somethinglike that.Theonly decent patch of open land left around here is theHarringtons’ field across the street.Andthat’s only five acres now.”
