I don’t even know why I’m so irritated. There’s this small part of me—an embarrassing part—that felt special because Tally was making all these treats for me. Just like I used to feel special when Gina would do ridiculous things to get my attention.
“It’s a good idea, Walker.” The use of my name instead of “Cowboy” tells me she’s pissed. “This farm means everything to me, and I know everyone thinks that because I left, I didn’t care. But it’sbecauseI cared that I left.”
A headache blooms between my eyes. “What do you mean?”
She huffs and pushes to stand. “Forget it. I don’t even know why I try. No one expects anything from me, so maybe I should just prove you all right and give up.”
The way she speaks, the dejected tone of her voice, has me reaching for her. My fingers snag on her wrist, and I tug. “Tally, wait.”
When she turns her head, her eyes cutting to wear I’mgripping her, it’s clear she’s not looking at me. But that doesn’t stop me from noticing the sheen of tears in her eyes. A wave of regret rolls through me.
“Tally.” Desperation attaches to her name as a teardrop rolls down her cheek. Her lashes flutter and lift open as I reach for her chin. With the gentlest touch, I tilt her face so she’s looking right at me. I’ve got to make this right. To apologize. But fuck, the moment I’ve got her chin in my hand, her attention on me, those gorgeous eyes of hers filling with the same desperation I feel whenever I look at her, I forget my damn words.
Tally trails her tongue across her bottom lip so slowly I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it. My heart pounds, and I tug on her wrist to pull her closer right as she leans in.
And then I remember why we shouldn’t be doing this. She’s my employee. She’s too young. She’s Peter’s daughter.
And she’ll hate me when she finds out what’s really going on with the farm.
When I don’t take that infinitesimal step closer and simply stare at her, Tally’s lips fall open in anO.
“I’m sorry.” I blow out a breath as I look at her damn lips again. “I like you, Tally. I like you so fucking much, but I’m no good at any of this.”
Her eyes soften and she stares at me, almost defiantly. “I like you, too.”
I shake my head because she doesn’t get it. “I’ve been burned pretty badly. So I don’t do this. My ex—I thought she loved me, but she turned out to be someone I couldn’t trust.”
She blows out a breath. “I’m not good with words, either. I don’t exactly have a great track record since I got here, so I was just trying to show you my idea could work rather thantell you. I should have just told you what I was thinking. I’m sorry if you thought I was scheming.”
I know that. Fuck, I know she’s nothing like Gina. Which makes all of this so damn hard because I still can’t have her. “This still can’t happen.”
She rolls her eyes, and though it should remind me of her age, I understand the sentiment. I’ve been hot and cold with her. But I’m serious. This can’t happen. “It’s not because I don’t want you, and it’s not even because I’m your boss.”
Her brows raise in question.
“It’s because there are things going on with the farm that you won’t understand.”
She steps back, creating distance between us. “Tell me.”
“I can’t. I promised your mother and father I wouldn’t.”
Tally’s eyes fall to the counter, zeroing in on her soda bottle. “Okay,” she finally says.
Surprise and maybe a bit of disappointment hit me square in the chest. “Okay?”
Tally nods. “Yes. Okay.”
“I’m confused.”
She sighs but her eyes settle on me and I see something in them that wasn’t there before. “Did they have a good reason to ask you to stay quiet?”
I run a hand down my face. Gail and Peter had their reasons. Are they good? Maybe. I can’t say it’s necessarily wrong, and it certainly isn’t selfish, so I nod.
“Okay. I trust my parents, and this is their business.” Tally’s chin dips. “And I trust you.”
“You do? Why?”
“Because my dad trusted you.” She says it so softly, so sweetly, I just want to pull her against my chest and hold her.
