Chapter 8 Rowe #2
Cristina claps her hands again and announces like a cheerleader, “Isn’t this great?
The two of you have a common goal. Like I said, how much money can you put into the place?
It needs new fencing, paint, and a new sign.
You also need someone to take over marketing, to show the tourists that there’s more to Mystic Meadows than just the unicorns across the road.
Rowe hasn’t had time to focus on social outreach, as she’s been doing day-to-day tasks, and her mother, great as she is, isn’t a social media maven.
Oh, and then there’s the unicorn presence in town.
You’ve got an uphill battle there.” She waves her hand dramatically.
“Those creatures are everywhere. You know, there’s the unicorn water park and all the unicorn-themed stores in town, and then the streets are named after the creatures.
” She deflates as she appears to realize the stronghold that we’re up against. “There are a lot of unicorn things.”
“But there isn’t a big piggycorn presence,” he tells us quietly, with this whole silent-warrior vibe he’s got going on.
“How much money will you put into it?” Cristina asks again.
“I don’t have any money.”
And the shoe just fell off the other foot. “Excuse me?” I ask. “All your talk about changing the place, making it awesome and better, and you don’t have any money? I’m confused.”
His scowl deepens. “That’s one of my mother’s stipulations. We can’t use our own funds.”
I laugh. Really toss my head back and laugh like a maniac two seconds short of sticking her finger in an electrical socket.
Just kidding. I would never do that.
I slap the table. “Well, guess what? I don’t have any money, either. So what you’re talking about—this dream where piggycorns are the best of the best—it’s going to cost money, and I’m dead broke. Unless you can pull some cash out of thin air, I thank you for your time. Have a great life.”
I push the chair back and rise, but his hand shoots out, covering mine. I jolt as a tsunami of heat winds around my wrist and snaps me in place.
Pane’s eyes are on my wrist, and when he looks up, it feels like my rib cage shatters. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m in his grip, and for the smallest flicker of a moment, I don’t mind his presence.
His voice rumbles from the center of his chest. “Have you ever wanted to be more than where you came from?”
My jaw unhinges slightly. “What?”
“Have you ever felt trapped?”
His voice is low and sultry. The question feels intimate, like we’re standing on a deserted beach at night with a crescent moon lighting a trail of breadcrumbs that connects us to one another.
His sage eyes hold mine, and my insides quiver. “Have you ever felt like a prisoner to your family’s legacy? My whole life, all I’ve ever wanted is to be more than the Maddox name, to be better than my . . .”
Who? Better than who?
He doesn’t continue the thought. Instead, he looks away and inhales, and when he pins his sage grass eyes on me again, my pulse flutters at the base of my throat.
“People see me coming and they sum me up in two words: rich brat.”
Pane sinks back in his chair, releasing my wrist, and I immediately covet the heat he took with him.
“Becoming CEO of the group was supposed to be my chance to change that, to prove that I’m more than a man born into a life of luxury.
I always thought the company would be my ticket in doing that, but it’s not.
It’s this—your farm. Your business is not only my future, but it’s yours as well. You can understand that, can’t you?”
The way he’s looking at me makes a boulder tumble into my throat. He doesn’t wait for an answer, which is great because I don’t have one.
“You’re from a small town where people pigeonhole you, the same as they do me. This is your shot at proving that they’re wrong about you, that every small belief they’ve ever held about Rowe Wadley is incorrect. You’re bigger than Mystic Meadows, and I want to help you show it.”
I’m speechless.
“Holy shit.” Cristina clearly isn’t.
He leans in. “I’m more than the prejudices the world has saddled me with. Are you?”
He looks at me and it’s like he can see my soul, like he’s reading me right out of a book. “Yes,” I find myself whispering. “I am. I want to be.”
And it’s true. I’ve been seen as sad little Rowe Wadley for forever—a piggycorn farmer, a woman who can’t keep a man and whose lot in life sucks. My one chance to fix up the farm was stolen by the bank.
But maybe there’s a shot with Pane Maddox.
I lean in toward him until only inches separate us.
“What do you want for this place?” he asks. “What’s your vision of its future?”
I lick my lips. His gaze darts to my mouth, and my cheeks heat.
“I’ve always wanted this farm to beat out Dancing Trails across the road.
For my parking lot to be filled, while theirs is dwindling.
For people to see that piggycorns are what I’ve always known—that they are the perfect companion pet.
Sweet, loyal, smart. They’re like dogs, except cuter, cuddlier, with big personalities and a curiosity that makes my heart swell.
” And it does. There’s no better feeling in the world than having a piggycorn sit beside me and put its chin on my lap.
“They are kind, gentle creatures that don’t get the credit they deserve. ”
A smile lifts one side of his mouth. It’s a nice mouth. One that’s begging to have lips brushed against it.
Wait. Where did that come from?
“That’s what I want for your farm, too. If you let me help you, if you will put your trust in me, I will work day and night to save this place and turn it into every dream you’ve ever wanted.”
Cristina mumbles, “Is it getting hot in here?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but Pane Maddox is magnetic. He’s all supercharged positive ions and I’m negative, drawn to him. His speech not only ignites a fire in my gut, but it also starts a fire in my panties.
He leans in one more inch. “I will win your farm back for you.”
I believe him. Every inch of me believes this man as he stares at me with eyes as green as brilliant glass marble.
“So. What do you say?”
Before I can stop myself, I give him my answer.