“Well, then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Tyler said, scratching his neck. “You wait for Shane to come back and fix your car, and in the meantime, you can use my truck. No charge.”
I stepped back and eyed him warily. “I can borrow your truck? What’s the catch?”
“The catch is it’s a piece of shit,” he said with a grin. “And you have to let me drive your car once it’s fixed. Just once around town. What do you say?”
“I say I don’t have a choice. Deal.”
Later, as I was driving Tyler’s truck to a farm I was interested in buying, it became clear just how much of a piece of shit his truck was. It had to be older than Tyler. The springs in the seats no longer sprung, and the air-conditioner smelled like an old raccoon had farted itself to death in the vents. But it ran well, which was a testament to Tyler’s mechanic skills, I supposed.
A long farm road stretched out in front of me, looking like every other damn road in this godforsaken place. At least my GPS was working today. Probably because the sky was clearer than the day before. When the thing told me to turn, I pulled off through the open gate of a place called Granny’s Acre Farm.
I knew from the files my office had sent over that the farm was bigger than a single acre. Not giant enough to be a threat to any of our operations, but big enough to explore absorbing them into the agricultural branch of Allory Enterprises, which we’d been growing these last few years.
Food was big business and we’d been making a push to get a piece of that pie. Instead of starting from scratch, it was easier to buy out existing farms and take over operations. Or shut them down completely. It was a win-win for everyone. The farmers got paid well and Allory profited.
Let’s just hope Granny sees it the same way.
I had been CEO of Allory Enterprises for four months now, but I had trained my entire life for the role. I had done everything that was expected of me, attending prestigious schools, making connections, and learning how to navigate the cutthroat business world. But now I was being asked to do something I never thought I would have to do.
The board was panicking because of a social media campaign calling Allory, which owned a ton of farmland now, the “bad Easter bunnies” after a sleuth came out with receipts about my father’s practices of buying out farms and shutting them down to keep competition away from the larger farms we owned. It was a shitty business practice, and I didn’t run things the same way he had, but people didn’t forget just because the company had a new CEO who was trying to do things a better way.
All this drama stemmed from a single social media post that blew up, but one viral scandal was enough of a headache to deal with. I was pretty new to the field of agriculture, but according to the board, the social media heat was a very bad thing.
Speculation about the new, young, handsome CEO was at an all-time high, and the board insisted on sending me here to Ferris for a little while to mingle with the farmers. The board would also be sending a media coordinator out after I’d settled to get some wholesome footage to try to show the public we weren’t as bad as we had been in the past.
I didn’t love the idea, but they were adamant, and I wanted to prove myself. My father had left me with a mess but I knew I could make Allory a company I could be proud of.
I parked Tyler’s truck in front of the little farmhouse at the end of the drive. Colorful flowers lined a stone walkway leading up to the bright yellow front door. The sound of chickens filled the air, although I couldn’t see any of the actual birds from there.
I knocked on the door, but no one answered. After giving it another try, I walked around the back of the property, just in case whoever lived here was outside. If not, it couldn’t hurt to poke around in their chicken houses and see how they did things. If I got caught, I just hoped Granny’s mood was as cheerful as her home.
I heard the click of a gun behind me. “Who are you and what do you want?”
Granny’s home.
I spun around with my most charming smile on my face but then stopped. My mind reeled with confusion. The big shotgun pointed at my feet was only part of the reason. Mostly, I was shocked at who was holding the shotgun.
“Shelby?”
She looked a hell of a lot different than she had the day before, bundled up in bulky layers of rain gear. Her jeans hugged her wide hips and thick thighs, the kind that could grip tight and ride all night. The thin white cotton shirt she wore clung to her damp skin, giving me an amazing view of what she had hiding underneath.
“Carter?” Instead of lowering the gun, she raised it. Her gorgeous face was the same as yesterday when she looked at me. Confused, annoyed, and maybe a little intrigued. Her blue eyes shone like sapphires in the sunlight today, though. Beautiful, enchanting, pissed-off sapphires.
“Hi,” I said cautiously.
“How do you know where I live? Did you follow me or something?”
I took a step back and held up my hands innocently. “Now hold on. It’s not like that.”
“I knew you were a serial killer. Well, guess what, pal? My grandpa taught me how to shoot, and he went to jail for a while.”
Curiosity overrode my fear. “For what?”
Shelby arched a brow. “What do you think?”
“I think you should lower the gun so we can talk like adults.”
