My friends stand frozen at the edges of the chaos, Paolo’s mouth hanging open and Vick already pulling out his phone to document what I’m sure he thinks is the most entertaining disaster he’s ever witnessed.
But this isn’t entertaining. This is my entire future being devoured by animals that should be nowhere near an innovation showcase.
This is the woman from the permit office destroying my life twice in one week.
As I watch the last of my perfect trees disappear into the mouth of a goat, I realize hard work means absolutely nothing when faced with pure, uncontrollable chaos.
5
Eliza
I’m fucked. And I fucked up.
For some reason my goats listened to Mandy Warnick, clacking around in her spike heels.
At least long enough for me to usher them outside, where I’m now standing by the destroyed temporary fencing, awaiting my fate.
Reed Nicholas, the saintly dweeb who should not be this damn hot, slumps against the door panting, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles where he runs his hands through it every few seconds.
Reed is not wearing a suit or fancy pea coat. He apparently came to set up dinky trees in jeans and a flannel and damn if he doesn’t grime up good. But I can’t think about that right now.
My goats are now safely loaded in the trailer after twenty minutes of humiliating animal wrangling. I’m not entirely certain Reed isn’t going to eat them.
Once I triple-check the trailer, I take a few deep breaths and turn to face him. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m really not sure what happened.”
He looks at me with wild eyes. “You’re sorry?”
I nod. He nods. He swallows.
I knew the temporary fence had weak spots, but I don’t have the capital to replace it. I fucked around, and now I’m going to find out the cost. The silence stretches until I want to climb out of my skin, broken only by the soft clicking of his stylus against the screen.
“Equipment damage,” he mutters, obviously struggling to remain calm. “Custom grow lights, hydroponic systems, display materials…” More tapping. “Lost research time, replacement seedling costs, specialized nutrients…”
“Just give me a number,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
Reed looks up, his eyes hard behind those thick glasses. “Not accounting for my time… fifteen thousand, one hundred and thirty-seven dollars. And forty-two cents.”
The number hits me like a head butt from Ursula. I was expecting bad, but not this bad. Not “sell-my-truck-and-still-be-broke” bad.
“That’s…” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “That’s very specific.”
His nostrils flare, and his brows twitch. “I keep detailed records of everything.” Reed’s voice is clipped, professional. “Bear in mind, this represents approximately eight months of research and development. How would you like to handle payment?”
The question hangs in the air like a challenge. How would I like to handle payment for thousands of dollars I don’t have? “You don’t have insurance or something?”
He takes another breath, twitches a bit, and squints. “Do you have liability insurance?”
This is very bad. I could ask my sisters for help, but Esther’s already bankrolled me more than I deserve, Eila sinks all her spare cash into her hops farm, and Eden’s still building her bee company. I could try to get a loan, but my credit history reads like a cautionary tale about what happens when you’re self-employed and forget to make regular payments.
“I…” I start, then stop. There’s no good way to say this. “I can’t afford it.”
Reed’s jaw twitches. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t pay that. Not right now.” Heat creeps up my neck. “My business operates on really tight margins, and I haven’t been paid for my last three city contracts because of some quarterly processing bullshit, and?—”
“So you’re saying you destroyed my work, and you can’t make it right?” Reed’s voice rises slightly, his composure cracking again.
“I’m saying I need time to?—”
