I shake my head, gesturing behind me at the strip of dirt road that runs along the edge of the sunflowers behind me. “No, that’s the backdrop. That’s what we call it because that’s where everyone wants to take pictures, you know? People like the path that winds through, but to get a picture that includes, like, the sheer size of the farm, everyone wants a picture on the little elevated area there. But keeping it free of mud and bugs and dead sunflowers is a full-time job.”
“Hence the roly-poly,” he says, eyeing the tiny guy in my hand.
“Hencemyextremedispleasure thatBlackwellapartments are going up directly next to my sunflower field and totallyruiningthe aesthetic that people are looking for when they come to this place. This istheSunflower Farm of the townSunflower Hilland Mayor Reed promised me that it would be protected. Which includes the revenue streams that allow me to keep this place functioning.”
He holds his hands up. “Okay, Sunflower,” he starts, the edges of his lips rising like he can see the little zip of fire the nickname sends down my spine.
And I’m struck by the way his smile reaches his eyes. Thick lashes, over warm brown irises. Dimples on each cheek that appear and disappear with every movement of his mouth. A dark five o’clock shadow that—if I weren’t soangrywith him right now—I might imagine grazing against my bare skin.
And fuck me, the sunflower farm is working its magic on me, too.
Even after growing up in this place, there is nothing quite like the sight of a stupidly handsome man grinning at me beneath a cotton candy sunset and backlit by a hundred acres of sunflowers.
“First off, my apartments are not shitty. They’re economical,” he says, taking another step toward me so he can stare down his nose at me. “And I would check that attitude at the door because subsidized housing helps alotof people.”
I can feel the crazy swirling in my own eyes. “Who is it helping to live in your apartments? You’re nothelpinganyone by giving people who are already struggling no choice but to live in your shitholes.”
“They could be without homes,” he says. “And even if my apartmentswereshitty, it’d be a hell of a lot better than spending the winter out in the cold.”
“Notmuchbetter if the heating doesn’t work.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Who are you hearing this from? Or are you just being difficult for the sake of being difficult?”
“No, I’m trying to figure out why some big shot developer is walking around my streammeasuringstuff when you’re supposed to be avoiding doing anything that might hurt the sunflower farm.”
“We’re measuring the stream so we make sure wedon’thurt the sunflower farm.” He sighs. “Look, this stream crosses the property next door, and like you wished, we’re going to make sure nothing happens to it. We just have to divert it around the portion of the property we’re building on.”
I blink, my momentary delight at his mild exasperation disappearing in a split second. I glance down at the few feet of water running past us. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We have to divert the stream. We’re taking measurements to make sure we don’t disrupt it.”
I hold my hands up in front of me, the roly-poly emphasized between us. “You’re diverting my stream?”
He shrugs noncommittally. “Only the portion on our land. And measuring what’s on yours. Like I said, to make sure nothing changes.”
My brain stumbles over itself as I struggle to imagine the implications. “You’re… how are you going to make sure nothing changes?”
“We’ll come back to measure it at regular intervals.”
I narrow my eyes. “So like, while you’re building you’re just going to come back to this spot and measure how deep the water is?”
He nods happily. “Yeah. You’ll probably see us a bunch,” he says, and then he holds that stupid meaty hand out again for me to shake. “So really, I’d love to keep in touch. I don’t want to show up unannounced and get in your way, and I’m sure you’ll appreciate knowing what the plans are for the property next door.”
I glance at his hand and then back up to those annoyingly warm brown eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
That good-natured smile returns to his face. “Your question?”
“What are you doing to prevent any changes to my stream?” When he opens his mouth to speak, I hold a hand up. “And if you’re going to say ‘measure,’ I suggest younot.”
He closes his mouth, pressing his lips together.
“When you say ‘measure,’ it sounds a whole lot like you’re building up a repository of evidence that the depth ofthe stream naturally changes over time. The kind of evidence you’ll bring if little old me has to sue the big bad wolf because thelackof a stream kills the power to the charming, rustic barn that all the influencers stay at so they can post pictures of the sunflower farm and actually bring in the money to run this place.”
He nods as he sighs, as if he’s finally understanding something. “You know, I was wondering what you were going on about at that town council meeting. Now I get it. You’re renting out the barn for publicity,” he says, and then eyes me. “Isn’t that against town policy?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you seriously coming onto my land, telling me you’re going to do nothing to protect my stream, and then blackmailing me on top of it all?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all, Ms. Harper.” He holds out his hand again. “Just giving you a multitude of reasons to be friends with me.”
