CHAPTER 4
ROOK
I’ve only stepped foot inside of my grow building just enough to keep things going since the funeral. I don’t have another choice. I refuse to see everything I’ve worked at fall to the wayside. Not now.
But a pang of grief hits me every time I step inside. Because I wanted it to be so much more while Grandpa was still alive; I still don’t know if he would have really been proud of me for what I’m building. I wish he had told me.
But the man didn’t emote very much.
I think it was a generational thing because he was able to find ways to show his pride and love for me. Still, it would have been nice if he said the words.
Today, when I step inside the building, I want to make sure I can bring Meadow in here later to show her some of the extractions I was working on before Grandpa passed away. They were for her, knowing she would start planning her fall bakery menu soon.
She’s passionate about everything she bakes and the seasonal menus she puts together. It’s something I understand because her drive matches my own.
Being in here, inviting her over to talk about what she needs, and pretending like everything is the same makes me feel like a fraud. Especially considering the conversation I had with Mr. Holden.
I felt wrecked before I even walked through that man’s door.
He took one look at me and took a deep breath.
“I’m going to cut to the chase and tell you what you need to know.
Then,” he paused and waited to make sure I was really listening to him, “we’ll go back and I’ll go through all the legal mumbo jumbo and fill in any details you need to know. ”
The breath that came out of me was almost embarrassing and I felt the knot in my gut loosen just slightly. Meeting with my grandpa’s lawyer could go so many different ways. My family’s farm was on the line, and I didn’t know how it was all going to work out or what was in his will.
Which was the scariest part.
I tried to ask Grandpa once, but he brushed me off and said there was plenty of time.
“I appreciate that,” I rasped.
“You have a trust. I don’t know why he never told you about it before now, but I’m aware he kept it to himself.
You can access it in five years, when you’re 35.
” Something shifted on his face for a moment, but then it was gone.
I probably should have latched onto it, but it barely penetrated at the time.
“You are also being given all of the personal family accounts and whatever is left over after any debt and funeral expenses are taken out. You are the beneficiary on his life insurance policy payout also.”
I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat only got bigger. Maybe I nodded? I’m not sure.
“We’ll get all of those things signed over,” he assured me.
“Okay,” I croaked out.
“Now,” he paused and the moment felt never-ending, “Sherman Farms, the business and the land is another matter.” My heart dropped. “The will stipulates that it goes to the youngest, married relative.”
The words echoed around the room. They made no fucking sense.
I blinked once and my mind blanked. “I’m sorry, what?”
The man ran his hand over the back of his head and grimaced slightly, even though he probably shouldn’t have. “It’s an odd stipulation, but it’s in there all the same. The business, the land, the house. All of it goes to the youngest blood relative, but they have to be married.”
“Married?” My face screwed up. It felt impossible to smooth it back out.
“Yes,” he assured me, “married.”
“Fucking hell,” I grunted and sat forward, my head going into my hands for a moment.
Married.
It made no sense.
“But for the first year, things operate as they are.” My head snapped up with his words. “It is only at the year mark when everything involving the business will transfer over.”
I’m not proud of it now, but I exploded out of the chair. “You realize this is fucking crazy, don’t you?”
The look he gave me was quelling, but my heart was racing and my vision was getting a little hazy. I flopped back into the chair and shook my head. My hands came up in surrender because I was just at a loss.
That’s when he passed me the letter without a word. I didn’t need him to tell me; I knew what it was. My hands were shaking as I opened it.
Rook,
I’m sorry I’m not there. I’m sure you have questions and are probably angry about the marriage clause in my will. If you think it means I want the farm to go to that jackass, you’re wrong.
It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you.
You being alone, out on that land, pouring all of yourself into your business, is something I can’t allow. Not anymore. Maybe I was selfish for not insisting earlier and riding your ass when I was still alive.
You deserve the love of a good woman. Let her love you and remind you that dreams can be shared. I want you to have the love I found. Different times, same power.
Find that love.
Embrace it and let it hold you up during the lean years. It’ll become boundless when joy is easy to come by. Keep our family going and teach another generation how to be good stewards of the land we have been blessed with.
I never said it enough. I love you, Rook. I have never once regretted looking into your eyes the day you were left with us and promising to protect while teaching you how to become the man I knew you would become.
I’m proud of you. Go. Build the business you want to build. As long as you keep it honest and do good work without taking too much.
Find love. You have a year.
That was it. Not even a signature. Which was kind of classic him. But nothing about the letter he left me was.
Now I don’t know what to do.
Because there is only one woman I could imagine marrying. Meadow.
Only someone who is a few screws loose would marry someone they hardly know. Especially with a will clause involved. Because I would, of course, have to be honest from the start.
I can’t keep some sort of elaborate cover-up scheme going. It would fall apart. Why do that to myself?
It makes no fucking sense.
There’s no way I can marry Meadow. I don’t think.
When I step out of the grow building, I see Meadow’s car coming up the long drive and head back toward the house. If she’s bringing pizza all the way out here, we should enjoy it relatively hot.
The moment she comes to a stop, our gazes lock and something passes between us. It’s the knowledge of something I’ve been ignoring since the moment I met her.
I want her.
She climbs out of her SUV slowly with a huge grin on her face. Thankfully, I don’t see pity. I don’t think I could handle that right now.
Not from her.
I nod toward the house as I close the distance between us. “I thought we could go inside and eat first.”
“Pizza is best either fresh or cold the next day,” Meadow’s voice is full of teasing.
“Only in college.”
The laugh that comes out of her chases away the feeling which has been following me around since grandpa died, the heaviness of it all. When she swings the passenger door open, I reach past her and grab the two pizzas.
It has me leaning into her and I can’t help myself from taking in a lungful of her vanilla and sugar scent. Fuck, she smells good.
The way she blushes after I stand up goes straight to my dick. This is probably a bad idea, but I’m certainly not going to send her away.
This is the first time that the ache in my chest feels manageable in far too long. Breathing is a gift. Now, looking down at her, her blonde hair pulled up high in a messy bun on the top of her head and her blue eyes sparkling, I can breathe.
I’m in so much trouble.
Her arm brushes against mine as she leans in and grabs a paper bag along with a basket. I arch an eyebrow in question and her blush deepens.
“I promised vodka,” she shakes the paper bag slightly, “but I couldn’t pass up baking a few things too.”
“You baked for me?”
I can’t even explain why it makes my throat tighten. Maybe because it’s been years since someone baked something just for me. Not since my grandmother passed away.
“Of course,” she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I didn’t need another reason to yearn for this woman, but here we are.
The look on her face is curious as I lead her into the farmhouse, the one which has grown and evolved throughout the years. It’s the only place that has ever been a home to me. I wonder what it looks like to her.
“You have a beautiful home,” there’s a wistful quality in her voice. “It looks lived in. People try to design the feeling and try to buy it, but you can’t. It’s either in a house or it’s not.”
“I saw the difference the moment I stepped in this house,” I admit softly.
It’s almost too painful for me to really take in the house around me. It’s the same as it has always been, but it feels empty in a way it never has before.
Can I change things? Should I not do that unless there’s a glimmer of hope that I might actually take ownership of the farm?
Which would require a wife.
My shoulders sag while I sit on the couch. No, I deflate into my place on the couch, the same place that has always been mine. Even though the couch has changed a few times over the years. Not recently though.
“Shit,” I hiss and shake my head, “I should get some drinks or cups or something.”
I go to stand up, but Meadow is there. She puts her hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back. “We’ll save the vodka for now. I’ll grab some drinks.” Her eyes rake over my face and I can see the concern in her blue depths. “You sit,” the command is gentle, but I feel it all the same.
And, honestly, I’m too tired to fight against it at the moment.
It’s only when she comes back that I manage to murmur, “Thanks, Meadow.”
She sits without saying anything, but I can almost feel her basking in my words. When she plates up some slices of pizza, we both get one meat slice and one that looks like a garden exploded on it. For the first time in days my stomach growls. Meadow giggles and one side of my mouth twitches.
When I take a bite, I let out a groan that would be embarrassing in any other situation. Right now, I can’t seem to care. I polish off half of each slice before I take a breath, at least it feels that way.
It’s only then that I look at Meadow again. She has a self-satisfied look on her face which is kind of adorable.
She lets out a sigh, “I should have come here earlier. It’s clear you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”
The side-eye she gives me is epic. If she wasn’t her, I might be scared. Instead of fear, warmth spreads through my chest. There’s nothing quite like being cared for.
“I’ve been struggling,” I admit, even though I hate how true it is.
“You know,” her voice is gentle and sounds like a lullaby to me, “if you ever want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”
I nod, but I can’t quite make myself look into her eyes. As I eat, the words are swirling around in my head.
It would be better to keep them to myself. I know it. The last person I should burden is Meadow.
She’s a client.
I finish off my slices and drink half of the soda. Then it’s as if something unlocks inside of my chest.
“I met with my grandpa’s lawyer,” the words start to tumble out of me. “I learned a lot while I was there. I’m getting a lot of money, but I’m not getting the farm.”
“What?” Meadow gasps the question and when I glance at her, the shock on her face is easy to see.
“At least,” I pause and wince, “not yet.”
“What does that mean? Are there some stipulations for the farm being transferred over?”
“Ownership will be transferred in a year to the youngest blood relative, but they have to be married.”
The words land like a bomb between us and when I look at her, she’s blinking her blue eyes at me while her mouth opens and closes. Yeah, I can totally understand her reaction.
What I’ve just said sounds ridiculous. Because it is.
But it’s also my life.