Chapter 9
Pane
“Yes,” she murmurs. “I say yes.”
Rowe leans in to me. I lean in to her, too, and it feels like the world has disappeared, like we’re the only two people who exist.
Heat fills her eyes before she blinks and shakes her head, making it vanish. Then she slumps back onto the chair.
“You can help me,” she confirms icily. “But there will be rules.”
Rules.Good. I like rules. Rules keep people in their place. Rules separate the wheat from the chaff. Rules remind me that I’m not here to get lost in her eyes or her luscious scent. I’m here to win.
And I’m also not here to discuss my personal life. The fact that I almost told a stranger who I want to be better than, is ridiculous.
Keep your thoughts in check, Pane.
I drum my fingers on the table. “Agreed. We need rules. Tell me everything you’ve got.”
“Well ...” She scans the room as if there’s a sheet of bylaws taped to the fridge. After a moment she says smugly, “You have to run all ideas past me first.”
Sunbeam, who’s all of five two, studies me like I’m the big bad wolf, like she can protect a village of piggies all by herself when trouble comes.
She’s disconcerting. Everything about her has me in knots. What is wrong with me? I’ve only just met the woman, but she’s different ... sassy, determined, and she doesn’t give a flip about who I am.
And let’s not forget that she’s also broke.
If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it’s that the Maddox family does not need a fortune hunter in our family—and what else would a broke woman on the verge of losing everything be, but a desperate digger of wealth?
I repeat her first rule. “I have to run all ideas past you? Deal.” Rowe blinks as if she’s surprised I gave in so quickly. “I’m not here to make your life miserable. We have to work together for this venture to be a success.”
She shoots a look to Cristina, who shrugs. “Don’t ask me. This is your whole thing. I’ll clean up the kitchen. While I do that, why don’t y’all talk somewhere else so that I don’t distract you.”
Rowe narrows and un-narrows her eyes, sharing a silent conversation with the woman who is clearly her best friend.
Cristina waves her off. “I’ll be right here.”
In case I try to murder Rowe, no doubt. Somehow I manage to not roll my eyes. If I wanted her murdered, I would obviously pay someone to do it. It’s not like I’d get my own hands dirty.
But I would never kill anyone, just to be clear.
Sunbeam exhales an exasperated sigh. “Let’s talk outside.”
I follow her through the kitchen—which, for some reason, is infested with ceramic roosters and living swine.
We step past a pile of piggycorns smooshed together on a dog bed. “They’re not going to lick my feet?”
Rowe glances over her shoulder, brow lifted delicately. “Normally, they would. Your feet must smell bad.”
I bite down the chuckle that rumbles in the back of my throat.Tit for tat, this one.
The back porch is small, decorated with a grill and a table for two. Rowe crosses to the railing, faces me, and folds her arms, which I’m quickly learning is her fighting stance.
I, on the other hand, lean against the tall balustrade, eyeing her with curiosity. What happened to this farm girl for her to be so on edge?
I mean, besides the whole foreclosure thing?
Don’t get personal, Pane.This is a job. This is my future. That’s what I have to focus on.
