“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, tossing my phone on the desk and closing my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
I was going to marry Lincoln Steele. Youngest Steele brother, obnoxious flirt, and the one man in this town I’d happily throttle before breakfast.
What could possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER FOUR
LINCOLN
Willa:
I’ll meet you at the bar after egg deliveries to discuss logistics
That was it.No greeting. No punctuation. Not even a threat, which pretty much counted as affection from her.
We weren’t even married yet, and she was already bossing me around. Not gonna lie—I wasn’t mad about it. Especially if she did all that bossing while her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were narrowed little slits and her bee-stung lips were hurling insults my way.
Goddamn, I was hard up.
I set my phone on the counter, tossed a rag over my shoulder, and went back to restocking. Continuing on with my day like I wasn’t about to meet with the most stubborn woman in the entire state of Maine to discuss our soon-to-be fake marriage.
Just a totally normal Thursday over here.
The bar was still closed for another hour, which meant we would have the place to ourselves. Willa would probably strollin, her expression set to murderous, and bark orders like she expected everyone—me, specifically—to follow them without question. She’d no doubt pretend this entire thing wasn’t a big deal. Even though I knew she’d only go through with marrying me if she’d already mapped out every other worst-case scenario.
Which made me her best-worst option.
And, well…that was better than most things she called me.
The back door slammed open like it always did when Willa graced the bar with her presence. She strode inside with an actual clipboard in hand, her mouth pinched, her brows drawn down in a scowl that said it wasn’t too early to kill someone. And that someone would probably be me.
She wore what she always did—a faded T-shirt, old jeans that looked as soft as butter, and boots with mud crusted in the treads. And, as always, she made even that look hot.
Maybe it was her messy braid and how loose strands of hair framed her face—a small part of her that even she couldn’t control.
Maybe it was the ever-present impatience rolling off her in waves that loudly proclaimed to everyone within a three-mile radius to get the fuck out of her way.
Maybe I just had a thing for surly, unbearably hot women who could out-stubborn a mule and yelled at me like it was a sport.
Whatever it was, this woman had been getting my dick hard with nothing but a scowl for more than a decade.
I didn’t bother hiding my grin as I greeted her. Where would be the fun in that? “Morning, hellcat. You’re looking exceptionally grumpy today.”
She didn’t break her stride, just slid her gaze to me. “Yeah, well…you’re apparently breathing, so there’s that.”
“Ah, yes. Breathing. Truly, the highlight of my day.”
She pulled two cartons of eggs from the tote slung over her shoulder and shoved them into my chest. “They’re fresh. You’re welcome.”
“Restocking my supply after yesterday’s…encounter? Nice. I’m loving these farmer’s fiancé perks already.”
She ignored me completely as she grabbed a stool, set her bag aside, and placed her clipboard down in front of her. “Let’s get to it. I’ve got other shit to do today that doesn’t include you.”
“Probably gonna be the last time you can say that for a while…” I tipped my chin toward her papers. “You bring a prenup?”
“I brought aplan,” she corrected. “Try to keep up.”
She tapped her pen on the paper attached to the clipboard. On it was a checklist, underlined and annotated in her handwriting. Rules. Expectations. Timelines.
