Chapter Four
Tina Marie
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“He’s too old for you.”
“Mama, I—”
“I said no, Tina Marie! That man is thirty years old with a son, to boot. What does he need with a nineteen-year-old who can barely take care of herself, let alone a family?” Mama scoffs, then twists her head around to drag her weathered eyes up and down what she calls my disgusting body.
She detests my curvy frame, deems it to be unsightly and a possible detriment to my future. By future, she means this sham of a wedding she’s been planning for months. There is no way in hell I’m marrying Forrest Anderson. He reeks of horse manure and rotten apples. Those smells individually are gag-worthy but together… Lord, help us.
I mean, I’m a Cold Water Ridge girl through and through, born and raised on these mountains. Horses, farming, and apple orchards are my life. My family owns one of the biggest orchards around and our horses are the envy of the town. So yeah, on a good day in the field, I can stink to high heaven. The only difference between Forrest and me is that I’m not allergic to soap and water. If it’s proven that man bathes more than once a month, I’ll happily eat that crappy diet food Mama’s always trying to shove down my throat.
“Mama, I can take care of myself… have been for years now. Besides, I never said I was gonna run away with the man. I’m just bringing him a pie. Jeez.” Liar. If Braden McClain showed up at my door, begging me to go with him, I’d leave so fast, it would make her witchy old head spin. That man is in my blood and if I don’t get at him soon, I just might die from heartache… and horniness. I’ll definitely die from horniness. Your fingers can only do so much, you know.
“Tina Marie.” She sighs, then puts down the spoon she’s holding. A large pot of apples is simmering on the stove, on their way to becoming applesauce. Facing me fully, she unleashes the same stream of vile comments I’ve heard since her return. Calling me a fat, lazy slob who should be grateful that any man would deem me worthy to be his wife.
Laughing at her ridiculous words, I continue putting the finishing touches on the strawberry-rhubarb pie I’m making—Braden’s favorite. Despite what that crusty old woman says, I’m delivering this pie—and myself—to him today. One bite of this sweet yet tart treat and he’ll love me forever. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just have to jump his bones because I know in my heart, I’m meant to be Mrs. McClain. Braden is just too hung up on our eleven-year age difference to see I’m what he and his adorable son need.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. Now you stop with this silliness and throw that pie away. Forrest likes blueberry. While you’re at it, you can just get rid of that pitiful strawberry patch as well. He’s allergic.”
Mama believes Forrest Anderson is her ticket to easy street. No, that’s wrong. She thinks he’s her ticket to stay on easy street. When Dad passed, he left his entire operation to me, right down to the last blade of grass. At nineteen, I own the biggest and most profitable property in Cold Water, something I don’t take lightly. I bust my ass, right alongside our farmhands, to keep this place up to the standards my daddy set. Mama knows that at any moment I could toss her ass out. The only thing keeping her here is my misguided loyalty to the woman who carried me for nine months. She waltzed her way back into the house soon after Daddy died, claiming a child needs her mother. If that was true, why did she leave a sweet little eight-year-old girl to fend for herself until her daddy returned from the fields? I learned an important lesson that day… Hilda O’Neal is a selfish bitch.
Still, I let her in because I was only seventeen and needed someone to keep the wolves away until I was legally old enough to take control of the ranch. It’s been two years, and she’s served her purpose and she knows it… even if she doesn’t show it. Marrying me off to the easily manipulated Forrest is her solution. She has him so wrapped around her finger, he’ll do anything for her. It’s a good plan with only one flaw. I refuse to let that man touch me.
“Baby, you know I only say these things because I care. All that extra weight you’re carrying can’t be good for you. I’d hate for you to go the way of your blessed daddy.” She dabs at her dry eyes for effect.
What Daddy’s death has to do with weight, I’ll never know. A freak accident with some farm equipment is what took him away from me. This caring mother act is lacking in facts but entertaining as all get out.
“Lose a few pounds and you’ll be healthy… and the envy of the town,” she continues, “Forrest wants to see a slim bride walking down the aisle… not a woman who has to wear a bra with two letters in the size.”
Tired of this conversation and ready to go get my family, I ignore her, placing my still-warm pie in a box, then slide on my shoes. “I’m leaving Mama. You can bake blueberry pie if it means so much to you. Forrest seems to be more your speed anyway… he smells like shit and you’re full of it. Besides, it takes a real man to handle double Fs.” I wink just to piss her off even more.
It works. She storms toward me, prepared to knock the white pie box out of my hands, but I’m too quick for her.
“You think you’re so smart. Keep on with that smart mouth of yours and I’ll fire that disgusting peon, then where will he and his dirty son be… huh? Yeah, that’s right… their homelessness will be on your head,” she snarls, right in my face.
I don’t have time for this nonsense… her empty threats. Braden is the best foreperson we’ve had in a while. I’m lucky he answered our ad all those months ago. Double lucky that I made it back to the house in time to stop Mama from sending him away. She claimed he wasn’t right for the position, but I think she could tell how I felt way back then.
My crush notwithstanding, we needed a foreperson. Our lack of one is why Daddy had to work so hard those last few years of his life. Braden keeps this operation chugging along at full speed and all the men like and respect him. The newest hire, Colton Davis, who is only a couple of years older than me, looks up to him like a big brother. Not that Braden’s work ethic makes a difference. She has no authority over the hands or anything to do with this ranch, for that matter.
“They’ll be in the big house where they belong. Question is… where will you be?” I ask, staring right back at her bony face. With that, I turn and leave her in the kitchen, seething with rage.
Not my fault. The ice was already thin, and she just built a fire over it. Silly woman.