Chapter 7 #2
“Miss Lindsay, it’s lovely to see you. Stella usually comes.”
I nod. “I needed some air.” I wander the aisles aimlessly, looking for comfort food that might fill the hollow space in my chest. “Mr. Lee, do you have any ice cream?”
“Back freezer, left side. You okay? You look sad.”
I select two pints of chocolate chip cookie dough and add a bag of carrots on impulse. The combination would horrify any nutritionist, but my donkey shifter side craves the vegetables while my human side demands sugar.
Back in my apartment, I settle on the couch with both pints and the entire bag of carrots, alternating between sweet and crunchy while replaying the argument in excruciating detail.
“Stubborn men who can’t see good business sense,” I mutter around a mouthful of ice cream. “I offer him everything he needs to succeed, and he acts like I’m trying to steal his firstborn.”
The carrots provide satisfying crunch while I think through every point I made and every logical argument he dismissed. My proposal was solid. The financial projections were conservative. The partnership structure protected his interests while providing growth capital and market access.
So why did it feel like I was speaking a foreign language?
My phone buzzes with a text from Ellen: How did the conference go? Did Josh survive corporate Manhattan?
I type back: Conference was fine. Josh handled it perfectly, but we had a fight this morning about business stuff.
Ellen’s response comes immediately: Bad fight or good fight?
I consider the question while crunching another carrot, not sure what she considers a “good” fight.
Bad fight. He rejected my offer to help expand his operation. Got all proud and independent about it.
Ellen: What kind of help?
I set aside the carrots to rebalance my phone and text more quickly: Partnership proposal with investment capital, distribution networks, and market access. I offered everything he needs to take his ranch to the next level.
The phone stays quiet for several minutes, which is unusual for Ellen. Finally: Did he ask for help?
No, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need the help.
Ellen: Lindsay...
I glare at the phone, hearing that chiding intonation even in text. Feeling defensive, I text: What?
It takes her a minute to reply: Did it occur to you that maybe he doesn’t want his ranch to be “next level”? That maybe he’s happy with what he’s built?
The question stops me mid-chew. Of course he wants to grow his business. Every entrepreneur wants to expand, reach new markets, and maximize potential. Right?
I think about Josh’s face when he talks about his ranch, the pride in his voice when he describes sustainable practices, and the satisfaction he takes in work done well rather than work done profitably. Maybe Ellen has a point, but that doesn’t make my offer wrong.
I’m working on a response when my doorman buzzes from downstairs.
“Miss Caldwell, you have a visitor. Josh Brennan?”
My heart does something complicated behind my ribs. “Send him up.”
I shove the ice cream containers into the freezer and scatter carrots into a bowl, trying to make my impromptu feast look less pathetic. When Josh knocks, I’m sitting on the couch with what I hope appears to be a casual snack rather than emotional eating evidence.
“Hi.” He stands in my doorway looking uncertain, which is so unlike his usual confidence that I’m immediately worried.
“Hi.”
“Can I come in?”
I step aside and he hesitantly enters, as though having lost confidence that he’s truly welcome. His hair is mussed like he’s been running his hands through it, and the mud on his boots suggests he went home before coming back. “I owe you an apology.”
The words catch me off guard. “You do?”
“I was talking to Miguel this afternoon.” Josh sits heavily on my sofa and scrubs his face with both hands. “Actually, I was mucking stalls while he stood there waiting for me to work through whatever was eating at me.”
“Miguel’s a good listener?”
“Miguel doesn’t listen. He waits until I’m ready to talk and then points out things I should have seen for myself.
” He looks up at me with an expression I can’t read.
“He mentioned that in all your time at the ranch, you never once suggested changing how we do things. You learned our methods and contributed to our work, but you never tried to fix anything that wasn’t broken. ”
I settle beside him on the couch, leaving careful space between us. “Your methods work. Why would I suggest changing them?”
“Exactly. You respected what we’d built, even when you probably saw ways to optimize efficiency or increase output.” His voice carries something that might be regret. “So, when you offered to help us grow, you weren’t trying to change what we do. You were trying to help us do more of it.”
I nod cautiously. “That was the idea, yes.”
“I reacted like you were trying to corporatize my operation instead of recognizing you were trying to support it.” Josh reaches for my hand, and I let him take it.
“I’m sorry, Lindsay. You put real work into that proposal, and I dismissed it without even considering what you were actually offering. ”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by lingering hurt. “Why did you dismiss it?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I’ve watched corporate agriculture destroy family operations my whole life. Big companies come in with promises of partnership and support but then gradually take control until the original owners become employees of their own businesses.”
I’ve seen it too, which is why I was so careful to structure the offer the way I did. “I would never do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t intentionally. Your proposal includes safeguards against exactly that scenario.” He meets my gaze. “I let past experiences cloud my judgment about your intentions.”
“What past experiences?”
“My neighbor growing up sold out to a big agriculture company when I was in high school. They promised to maintain his organic certification, preserve his workforce, and respect his sustainable practices.” Josh’s expression darkens.
“Within three years, they’d converted to industrial farming, laid off half his crew, and turned his family operation into just another factory farm. ”
Understanding dawns slowly. “You thought I’d do the same thing.”
“Not consciously, but somewhere in my head, corporate partnership meant eventual corporate control.” He squeezes my hand. “That’s not fair to you, and it’s not smart business thinking on my part.”
“So you’ll consider my proposal?”
Josh hesitates, and I realize we’re not quite back to where we started. “I need to think about it more carefully and look at the actual terms instead of reacting to my own assumptions.”
It’s not the enthusiastic acceptance I’d hoped for, but it’s progress. “That’s all I can ask.”
“Actually, there’s something else you can ask.” Josh’s voice takes on a different quality, something warmer and more intimate. “You can ask me to stay tonight.”
My nipples suddenly harden. “What about the ranch? Don’t you need to get back?”
“Miguel can handle things for another day. Andrew’s there too. I don’t want to drive home with this unresolved between us.”
“It’s not unresolved. We talked it through.”
“We talked through the business disagreement. I want to talk through the rest of it.” He brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. “I hurt you today, Lindsay. I saw it in your face when I rejected your help.”
The admission makes my throat constrict.
It wasn’t just professional disappointment that fueled my reaction to his reaction.
It was personal hurt that he’d dismissed something I’d worked so hard on and created specifically for him.
“I wanted to help,” I whisper. “I’ve never put that much thought into a proposal that wasn’t directly for Caldwell Industries. ”
“I know. That makes my reaction even worse.” He leans closer, and I smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of hay that always clings to him. “Let me make it up to you.”
“How?”
His kiss is soft and tentative, asking permission rather than taking. I answer by threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, tasting apology and promise in equal measure.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. “Stay,” I whisper against his lips.
He arches a brow. “For tonight?”
I hesitate for only a second. “For as long as you want.”
Josh’s smile is answer enough.