CHAPTER TEN
“Dog-doo, horse-doo, cat-doo. I’ve had it with doo-doo.” Henry propped the shovel against the barn, stripped off his filthy gloves, and threw them on the ground. “Being a fairy godfather has never been this hard before.”
Henry’s new best friend stared up at him with sleepy brown eyes.
“You look how I feel.” He rubbed the mangy mutt’s head. Henry had noticed a lump of fur in a corner of the barn on his third day on the farm. He’d thought it was a dead animal, but the dog named Ruffian had only been sleeping. “Too bad there’s no time to be tired. Only time to work.”
Work.
Henry hated working. He hated everything about life on the farm. The never-ending exhaustion, the won’t-wash-off dirt, the thin, sandpaper-like towels hanging in the bathroom.
It didn’t help that he was the worst farmhand in the history of agriculture.
So far, he’d done nothing but cause trouble and make mistakes.
Mistakes in front of the family, their friends, and Elisabeth.
She’d seen him get chased and stung by bees, pop a wheelie when he dropped the rototiller and nearly crushed Ruff, upset the chickens in the henhouse, break a day’s worth of eggs, and fall face-first while mucking out the barn.
Henry turned on the faucet outside the barn and rinsed his hands.
This job was crushing his ego. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t an ounce of pride left.
But Henry was all Elisabeth had. He couldn’t let her down. Or Sam. Or Abby. Or Caitlin. Or Ruff. Or the nameless gray cat that now slept on his chest every night.
Quitting had never sounded so good to him. But it wasn’t an option. Forget about faking an injury and spending a much-needed day in bed. He couldn’t donate money and make it all better, or he’d lose the stupid adventure.
“It sucks, but I’m stuck.” Henry dried his hands on a dingy monogrammed linen handkerchief that had once been white. “For a month.”
Henry couldn’t believe Cynthia had done this to him.
And one thing was clear. He didn’t want to see how the other half lived. He didn’t want to know how the other half struggled. He didn’t want to be the other half.
If Cynthia was trying to teach him a lesson, he’d learned a big one.
He was happy that he was rich and didn’t have to deal with life like Elisabeth did.
He was only supposed to be here for a month, but she faced this day in and day out.
She’d done this for four years. Henry didn’t know how she managed it or why she kept doing it.
He couldn’t wait to get back to his real life. Once in Portland, he could do more for Elisabeth and her family as Henry the billionaire than he ever could as Henry the farmhand. “I could stay here forever and never be good enough for this job.”
Ruff groaned.
“Don’t worry, boy. I may not be cut out for farming, but she put her trust in me to do this job, so that’s what I’ll do.
” Henry removed his hands from the water.
Dirt was still caked under his fingernails and embedded in the dry cracks of his hands, but that was as good as it would get. “Even if it kills me.”
Which, Henry realized grimly, it just might.
Ruff’s ears perked up. Footsteps crunched on the gravel, and Henry looked that way.
Elisabeth walked toward him. She wore jeans and a red field jacket.
Her hair was pulled back into a braid, and she wore no makeup once again.
She looked more beautiful than any woman had a right to look.
He only wished she didn’t have those dark circles under her eyes that never seemed to fade, even after a full night’s sleep.
Henry shoved the handkerchief into his back pocket.
She greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, Henry.”
Seeing her made his morning better. Now if he could get his act together and do something right, things would be more tolerable. “Morning.”
“How are you today?” she asked.
Bone-weary and hating life. His best effort wasn’t good enough—for the farm or Elisabeth. Just like his parents had always said about him. This adventure was only proving the truth.
Henry forced a smile. “Just fine.”
“You missed breakfast.”
He’d fallen asleep after the alarm went off.
It had been physically impossible for him to crawl out of bed, especially with Ruff dozing on his legs and the fat, nameless gray cat asleep on his chest. But when he finally woke, he skipped breakfast so he wouldn’t start the morning behind schedule. “I wasn’t hungry.”
His stomach growled.
She removed something wrapped in a paper towel from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “In case you get hungry.”
Elisabeth was so sweet, always thinking of others. He unwrapped the paper towel and saw a rectangular piece of something. The white icing with red sparkles looked interesting. But edible? He was almost too hungry to care whether it was or not. “What is it?”
She drew her eyebrows together. “A Pop-Tart.”
He’d heard of them before. They were Dash’s favorite breakfast food, but Henry had never tasted one. He took a bite. Not bad. “It’s good. Thanks.”
Ruff nudged his leg as he ate, and Henry tossed him a bite.
“I can’t believe the difference in that dog,” Elisabeth admitted. “Ruff used to stay around the barn. He would only come inside the house to eat. Even during winter.”
“He likes sleeping in the house now,” Henry said.
“He likes sleeping with you.”
Henry petted Ruff. “It’s nice to have a warm body next to you.”
“He’s a smart dog.” She smiled. “My dad found him when he was a puppy. Ruff followed him like a shadow. He loved my dad and tolerated the rest of us. Until you.”
“Poor boy must have been lonely.”
Elisabeth nodded and adjusted her gloves. “Are you ready to get to work?”
“I’ve been working since six o’clock.”
“I meant working in the fields.”
Just the mention of the word fields made his muscles tighten in protest. He would never look at a berry or any produce the same way.
“We’re going to tie today,” she said.
Henry didn’t want to tie the canes. He wanted to kick the canes. There had to be an easier way. Like buying the farm from Elisabeth for an inflated price and burning it to the ground.
Stop. He couldn’t think that way. The Wheelers needed help, and he was all they had. He had to get through this.
Henry put on a pair of new work gloves, hopped onto an ATV, and followed Elisabeth on her four-wheeler to the loganberries. Try to look at the bright side. He got to have fun riding from the barn and back. That was something good. Too bad everything in between sucked. He sighed.
Mist had settled between the rows of canes. Henry glanced up.
The sky was gray. Rain? He hoped not, but knowing his luck…
“It’s not hard once you get the hang of it.
I’ll show you.” With a paper tie in one hand, she reached around the berry bush with the other and secured the vine to the wire trellis without a wasted motion.
“The canes grow so fast that if we get behind and they get too big, it takes two people to tie each cane.”
“So we have to get it done before that happens.”
“Exactly.” She handed him a paper tie. “Your turn.”
Henry took a tie, grabbed a cane, and threw the additional growth over the trellis wire. A cluster of thorny vines raked his face, scratching his left cheek. “Ouch.”
“Are you okay?” Elisabeth asked.
It hurt badly. “I’m okay.”
“You threw the vine the wrong way.”
He did everything the wrong way. Everything except for his birthday parties and adventures. Without those in his life… No, this wasn’t only about Cynthia’s adventure anymore.
Elisabeth’s eyes darkened. “Your cheek is bleeding.”
“I’ll survive.”
Somehow, he would find a way to survive it all. The farm. The work. Her.
She took a closer look. “You should head to the house and clean that scratch.”
“At lunchtime.”
“Suit yourself.”
He wished he could suit himself. In one of his Armani suits to be exact. Better yet, a tuxedo. He had a dozen to choose from made by the top designers in the world. Anything to show Elisabeth the man he really was so she would see him as desirable instead of a fumbling idiot.
He was charming, sexy Henry. Women wanted him. Or at least pretended it wasn’t his Davenport name and fortune they were after. But not Elisabeth with an S.
Even with his money, he wasn’t the man Elisabeth needed. He was just all she had. He wouldn’t let her down. He would prove to himself he was more than a fat wallet and a bloated trust fund. Henry focused on the next cane to be tied.
Elisabeth touched his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Concern filled her voice, and his heart hitched. “I’ll be fine. I just need to figure out the correct way to tie.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “I’ll help you figure it out.”
She stood behind him and placed her arms alongside his. Even with their jackets and clothing between them, he could feel the softness pressing against his back. Her sweet scent surrounded him. He wished they could work like this all day…
“Take the vine with this hand and toss it over the trellis like this.” With her hand on his arm, she led him through the motion. “Now tie it onto the wire.”
Henry had trouble breathing, let alone accomplishing any sort of task requiring brain cells. He wasn’t sure how he managed to tie the vine, but he did.
As Elisabeth stepped back, emotion surged through Henry. An odd mixture of relief and regret. Holding her felt good, but so did helping her. If only he could do both…
“The bleeding stopped.” Elisabeth removed her glove and touched his face. “I don’t think it’ll scar.”
She stood so close to him and smelled so good it was worth a scar. Henry grinned. “A scar wouldn’t be bad. Women find scars sexy.”
“Some women do, but not all.” She tilted her chin, put on her glove, and got to work.
“Which do you prefer? Scar or no scar?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“The man.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted. Henry wanted her to like him. Who was he kidding? He wanted her to want him.
What was he going to do?
* * *