Chapter 10 Rowe
Rowe
“So, how was it?” Cristina asks when I’m back in the living room.
I drop onto the quilts and exhale the curtain of bangs from out of my eyes. “This is either the smartest thing I’ve ever done or the stupidest.”
“It might not be the stupidest, but it’s by far the craziest.”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically.
She stretches her legs out in front of her. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. The hottest, richest guy ever shows up to help you like he’s a gift from God, and you’re mad about it?”
“He definitely thinks he’s a gift from God.”
“He sort of is.” She glances up from her phone. “Are you going to tell your mom?”
“No. At least, not for a few days. No point in getting her hopes up in case this falls through.”
“Don’t think like that. Think positively. Heck, it would be my dream to snap my fingers and have some hot guy drop onto my doorstep.” She pauses. “Think it’ll work?”
“No.” Tallulah pads over and snuggles against me. I stroke her and murmur, “He says no piggycorns in the house.”
“That hot brute,” my bestie says with a dramatic eye roll. “What other torture did he make you agree to? Being chained to the bed while he runs a feather over your naked body?”
I explode with laughter. “No. Nothing like that. I locked him in the shamper. Don’t look at me like that. I have to make sure he’s not dangerous.”
“The first hot guy to come around in forever, and you lock him up with posters of eighties pop bands? Are you trying to torture the man?”
“Maybe.”
“Good God, what am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s it!” She throws her arms up. “You officially need a reeducation on men. I mean, you can’t deny that he’s good-looking.”
I shrug. Of course I don’t deny that. But he’s also smug, arrogant, horrible, conceited, privileged—all things that I can’t stand.
“Do you think he wants us to tell anybody that he’s here?” she asks.
“No. Since he’s trying to win his family’s company, it might give him an advantage if word gets out. This way it’s more fair if he wins.”
“Not if, Rowe—when. When he wins. When he wins and you get to keep the farm and give Luke a huge middle finger.”
I hope so. But every time I think about Luke taking my farm, my stomach gets all knotted up. So, for that reason, I shove the thought away and stroke Tallulah’s head. “Pane said to keep his identity a secret—as best we can.”
Her mouth makes this part-grimace, part-cringe thing. “But people will ask who that hot man is.”
“Then I’ll let him tell them.”
Now Cristina full-on grimaces.
“What? Have you already said something?”
She pulls her feet up to her chest. “I may have told a few people about him. Don’t panic. Not many. Just a couple.”
That could mean Cristina has only shared this with a few people. Or she could have told more than just a few people. It could also mean that the people she told will blab to all the wrong people, and word will spread faster than a fire doused with gasoline.
My phone starts vibrating.
When I open it, there are messages from friends, acquaintances, people I hardly know, and even Clarice Sinclair, all asking about Pane Maddox.
And the messages keep pouring in.
Dread pools in my stomach. “What did you do?”
She cringes. “I may have posted about him on social.”
“Cristina!”
“What? How was I supposed to know? In the kitchen, he didn’t say anything about not spreading the news.
But don’t worry, I’ll take the post down right now.
Hopefully that will stop this from traveling any farther than town.
But I mean, hey, you put him in a plaid shirt and tight jeans, get him working around the farm, and women will pay to see that. I’ll pay to see that.”
“Stop turning him into a sex object.”
She frowns. “It’s really hard not to. Impossible, actually. The man can’t help it. He oozes this whole sexy vibe. Really, Rowe. If you don’t jump on him while he’s here, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”
“And you need to stop talking as if having sex with random men is something that I do.”
“That’s true. It’s not.”
As my phone continues to ding, panic scrambles up my throat, throwing me back into the problem at hand. Oh no. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.
Pane Maddox is going to be pissed.
Well . . . what else is new?