“You’re not a friend. You’re a snake in the grass,” I tell him. “You prance into this town like you own the place because everybody from Manhattan vacations here and it’s their quaint little country place outside the city. But there are farmers who have been here for generations, my family included, that willnotlet you ruin it.”
“Cute speech,” he says. “It’s a pity you couldn’t speak that well at that town council meeting.”
God help me, I point at him again. “I know that public speaking is not my strong suit, but you’re not going to embarrass me by pointing it out when you’re the one who’s been walking around all day with mud all down the back of your leg that looks like shit.”
“What?” he asks, instantly twisting so he can look at the back of his pants.
I take the opportunity to kick the unsteady rock he’sstanding on, and with no other place to catch himself, he sticks one foot directly in the stream with a loudack. HisbuddySteve Murphy reaches out to steady him.
And I turn on my heel and run into my bungalow to plan his downfall.
2
RYDER
Igrab onto Steve’s shoulder as I tug my shoe off, shaking out the water that enveloped my foot when I stepped into the river.
And… not nearly enough comes out. My sock is soaked, my loafers are as good as ruined, Steve’s giving me that look again that tells me I’m in over my head, and if I don’t get my goddamn shoe back on my goddamn foot in the next half second, I’m going to lose my balance and step directly in the mud I’ve been so carefully avoiding.
I grumble as I slip my soggy shoe back on. Thank god I opted for a hotel room nearby rather than commuting back to New York tonight.
“She seems nice,” Steve comments, letting go of my shoulder and returning to the spot he was measuring in the stream.
“She seems like a pain in the ass,” I say, watching as she stomps away from me, wisps of that dirty blond hair flying out behind her as she moves.
I know she said she was just cleaning the “backdrop,” as she called it, but she looks like she just woke up. Wild hairon top of her head, overalls that are only fastened on one side and what looks like two different shoes on her feet. Her clothes are splattered with mud, one knee completely covered in a way thatmustbe stiff and uncomfortable.
She didn’t look quite likethatwhen she stormed into the town council meeting the other day, though the attitude certainly hasn’t changed. I’m not sure she noticed me patiently waiting for my turn to speak—or anyone else for that matter—because she took it upon herself to march to the front of the room and demand Mayor Reed tell her what thehellis going on next door. She reminded him that the sunflower farm is a staple of the community. Thenamesakeof this beloved town.
And what she seemed to take as agreement that her sunflower farm would be protected sounded to me a lot more like appeasement so the council meeting could continue.
It certainly wasn’t a responseIwould accept, if I was as concerned as she was.
She gives me one last haughty look over her shoulder before slamming the front door of the bungalow, and I give her my best sardonic wave.
I’ll be damned if she thinks she can take me down by shoving me into a stream.
I’ve had so much worse.
I’ve been extorted, punched, sued, spat on, and blackmailed—therealkind of blackmailing, not small town threats about misusing a barn—thanks to the reputation my dad built with his shady business tactics. I've done my best to reverse the reputation he built, but these things take time.
And it’s unfortunately in my best interest to workwithEvelyn Harper rather than against her, considering any development plan for a community next door would likelyinclude an easement ontoherproperty for a driveway. A single home with a narrow driveway would be fine, but the grade down to the road is too steep for two lanes unless we were to cut into a portion of her driveway.
And it would only affect the shoddy dirt road that runs through this place—not the precious sunflowers.
“You think you can work your charm on her?” Steve asks, recording another measurement in his notebook with a quick grin in my direction.
Steve has been my contractor for the past ten years. One of the few who hasn’t dicked me over in one way or another. He’s not exactly a stream expert, but like Evelyn Harper said, we’re just looking for a few measurements.
She doesn’t seem to realize she’ll get a nice fat payday if somethingdoesgo wrong with the stream. The only way I could have been clearer with her was if I outright told herI’mtaking the measurements thatshecan later use them to prove I ruined her precious stream.
If it comes to that, at least. I'm doing my best to prevent it.
I’m really not trying to be an asshole here.
I’m just… trying to get my goddamn grandmother to the park.
Having exhausted email as a means of communication, I started coming to town meetings to try to get an idea of what the holdup is with the construction blocking the road and thus, the sidewalk, that connects the assisted living community across the street with the park behind it.
