Chapter 10 #2
He turns, and the new light in his eyes tells me he’s secretly pleased that I stepped into his trap. “Why is it different, Hattie Jo? I thought everything was fine. If that’s true, then this shouldn’t bother you.”
His mouth curves just as mine presses tightly. I stare at him long enough to see if he’ll bend to my stubbornness. Instead, he takes an unnecessarily loud sip of his coffee without looking away from me.
If I refuse to go, he’ll be on to me and hone in on the conflicted emotions I’m trying, and failing, to deal with.
I know my way around those stables. Drive up to the barn, unload the horse, then drive back out. Ten minutes, tops.
If I happened to run into Heston, maybe—no. He wouldn’t even give me the time of day after last night.
But if he did, I wouldn’t turn down a do-over.
“You’re right,” I say reluctantly, then turn to the coat rack and grab the old feed store cap that’s permanently formed into the shape of my head. After pulling the bill down over my forehead, I give one confident nod. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I’ll take the horse.”
“Well, what do you think, babe?”
Babe?
The astronomical level of delusion.
I got tired of finding things to do around the barns and marched up to Marcus’s door with a head full of prepared debates. He hasn’t bothered to drop his old act yet, and he stands proudly next to the vanity in his bedroom, dressed in a white, collared shirt and a navy blue quarter zip.
By contrast, I’m still in a hoodie over a Sherpa-collared denim jacket, and my dirty, old cap.
I love to dress up, and my closet is bursting at the seams with a girly collection of nice clothes and jewelry.
But day-to-day? I’m punchy and practical, just like Mama taught me.
Men in the agricultural industry don’t underestimate your work ethic as much that way.
“It’s—elegant,” I answer, hands in my coat pockets and thoroughly confused as to why I’m even entertaining his unbelievable behavior right now. “What’s it for?”
“I think you know,” he says, smirking.
I shift my gaze through the room. It’s incredibly nice.
The whole apartment he renovated has enough top-of-the-line furnishings to be featured in a magazine.
The pristine white vanity matches the luxe feel with an oversized mirror, shelves and drawers, and little swirling details around the legs.
It’s awfully feminine, and the more I look at it, the more I realize it’s meant for me to use.
I shrug and hope I’m wrong. “You ran out of room in the bathroom for your pomade and combs?”
“It’s for you, silly. I didn’t know how to wrap it, so I’m giving it to you early.” He’s the most delighted man imaginable as he beams and holds his arms out as if to say, “Surprise!”
“Wow.” My brows lift. “You’re fully committed to the bit, aren’t you?”
He drops his arms to his side and rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not much of a good time yourself, lately.”
“You’re making this way harder than it needs to be,” he says, voice trailing off as he walks into his closet.
“Nothing has ever been easy for me, Marcus.”
“Exactly,” he calls out with a heavy breath.
“You do it to yourself by always choosing the hard way. Pick easy this time. Let all the heavy lifting fall on me, and you will barely have to do a thing. Do you have any idea how common it is for people our age with big aspirations to set themselves up like this? It’s modern. Progressive, even.”
“Excuse me? I already set myself up.”
He reemerges from the closet with a hamper full of dirty clothes, sets it by the door, then points at me. “Wrong. You’re not set up.”
“That’s so weird,” I quip back. “Because I could have sworn I’d earned multiple degrees, got a job where my peers and employers respect me, and already hit my savings account goal before moving on to the next stage of my five-year business plan. Huh.”
“You don’t have student loan payments coming out of your checking, so who paid for your school? What connections did you use to land your job?”
My jaw unhinges. Has he been looking at my checking account?
“A lot of parents help their kids through college,” I defend, though I know I’m privileged in that way, and he makes a valid point that if it weren’t for my dad, I’d have several loans.
But I worked my ass off in school. That has to count for something.
“And just so we’re clear, I got my job based on my own merit, thank you very fucking much. ”
“Uh huh. And who’s matching your little monthly contributions in that savings of yours? You should switch to a daily compound interest account, by the way. Your current APY isn’t doing you many favors. You’d know that if you let me help you.”
“Okay,” I hold my hands up as I feel the color drain from my face. “Stop trying to make me the winner, here. The only one benefiting from this stupid situation is you. Picking apart my accomplishments and accounts won’t trick me into believing otherwise.”
Marcus is still dead set on convincing me to change my mind.
“Have some forethought, Hattie. This isn’t a stupid situation, it’s a smart one.
” He holds up one finger at a time as he starts down a list. “First of all, your dad’s current worth eclipses what he had before I came back to take over the ranch’s money.
Plus, he loves me. Secondly, you and I got along extremely well before you decided to freak out yesterday.
We don’t fall below the minimum required compatibility level.
Maybe you haven’t realized this yet because you’re more inexperienced than I am, but lovie-dovie feelings are only good for prom dates.
Past that, all they’ll get you is lifelong drama and disappointment. And lastly—”
“Yuck,” I interrupt before he can go on any further. “There’s no way you actually believe all of that.”
He runs both hands through his neatly styled hair. “Oh, come on. Are you really that dense?”
I raise my voice, fed up with him. “No, I’m not. Maybe question your own intelligence, because while I came here unarmed to discuss this, all you’ve done is insult me. Dumb move, if you ask me.”
“Whatever,” he mutters. “I don’t want to talk you into cooperating anymore.”
I almost celebrate, but something tells me I didn’t wear him down and make him see reason.
Marcus braces his hands on his lower back, tilts his head, and stretches like he needs to limber up before ruining some other person’s day once he’s done with mine.
My eyes track him as he casually turns away, trudges out of his room, and heads down the stairs toward his office.
“That’s it?” I call out, following behind him at a distance.
“Yep,” he answers without a glance in my direction. “I’m done with the back and forth. You’re going to marry me because you know I could bankrupt your dad by morning if you don’t. Simple as that.”
He disappears behind his office door, and I flinch when it closes with a loud slam. I stare blankly at it for a moment, alone in the hallway.
What’s the worst he could do? Dump my dad’s assets for a fraction of their value without his consent? Too traceable, I’d think. Does he even have that power in the first place?
I groan while rubbing my temples. What do I know about finances and all the ways one could perform quick, life-altering sabotage on their employer or business partner? It makes me wonder if Marcus is banking on my lack of knowledge in that area. His threat could be one big bluff.
My toe taps the shiny, stained concrete floor as I bite the corner of my lip in concentration. I should dig into Marcus and find out everything I can. Surely, a crash course in private account management and joint investments wouldn’t be difficult to obtain, either.
I’ve surgically repaired complex fractures and removed soft tissue tumors before. I should be able to learn how to think like a slimy finance bro with my hands tied behind my back.