Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(35)

Within an hour, Josef was shaking our hands, telling us we had a deal. We celebrated with a little more moonshine, promised to get in touch next week, and left with the Feldmanns’ assurance that the land would be ours as soon as we wanted it and they’d stay on long enough to get the rye planted in the fall.

Oliver and I walked away from the house, barely able to contain our excitement. “Oh my God,” I whispered as we moved quickly down the long dirt driveway. “It’s really happening!”

“Fuck yes, it is.” Oliver poked my shoulder playfully. “You totally made that happen.”

“Me! No, I didn’t—your offer is what made that happen.”

“But you saw how he was hesitating because the other guy’s offer was higher, and you swooped in there with all that talk about carrying on his family’s legacy and naming the rye after Rebecca and asking to see her picture. Your timing was perfect.”

I laughed. “It was a team effort—our first one!”

“And I’d say it was an unqualified success.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “We make a good team.”

My heart raced ahead of my breath for a moment, and heat blossomed in my cheeks. “Should we head to the campsite?”

“Yes. It’s getting dark and the bugs will be even worse pretty soon. I want to get our tent set up.”

The tent. That’s right.

I had to share a tent with Oliver tonight. Sleep next to him. Hear him breathing. Talk to him quietly in the dark.

Earlier today I’d been worried about him keeping to his side of the tent, but now I found myself wondering how I’d react if he didn’t.

We walked the mile to the campground in no particular hurry, holding hands the whole way.





14





Oliver





NOW



The Popple campground was the farthest site from the docks, therefore the least crowded. In my opinion, it was also the most beautiful. Located on a sandy bluff, it had the benefit of the lake breeze to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and the beach at the bottom of the dune was sandy and secluded. I’d camped here a couple times last summer when I was scouting the farms, and it was by far my favorite.

“What do you think?” I asked Chloe when it was clear we’d have our pick of the seven possible sites. There was no one else around. “Base of the dune or up here?”

Chloe slapped at a bug on her arm. “Which will have less mosquitoes?”

I laughed. “Those are everywhere, but these two sites are higher on the bluff, and maybe the elevation will give us a stronger wind.”

“Then let’s stay up here.”

I dropped the pack from my back and attached our permit to the post at site number 7. “Here it is. I’ll get started on the tent.”

She grimaced as she glanced at the outhouse. “I should have used the bathroom at the Feldmann’s. Or not drunk whiskey.”

I grinned as I unzipped my pack. “You’re a tough cookie. You’ll survive.”

As I set up the tent, I thought about the day so far. Everything had gone perfectly—the Feldmanns had given their word they’d accept our offer, Chloe was on board with everything, and the two of us were getting along even better than I’d expected. In fact, I was having a hell of a lot of fun with her.

That hadn’t been part of the plan.

But it hadn’t been bullshit, what I’d said to her about us. I did think of her as someone who’d always be there for me, and I’d always be there for her. We ran hot and cold, but we had history. We’d shared some unforgettable experiences, both painful and pleasurable. But beneath all the surface-level ups and downs was a bond that couldn’t be broken. I felt it in my gut, and I had to believe Chloe did too. Otherwise, after everything that had gone down between us, why would she be here with me?

We made the perfect team. We’d challenge each other to be better, smarter, more creative. We wouldn’t pull punches or cut corners. We each brought unique knowledge and experience to the venture, and we’d known each other so long, we communicated almost in shorthand.

The problem was our physical chemistry.

No matter how much we fought it, it was always there, simmering just below the surface of everything we said, threatening to erupt at any moment. I wasn’t sure I could stop it, even if I wanted to. Even if I knew it would only make things more complicated.

Because it would.

“Want help?” she asked when she got back. How she managed to look so beautiful after a day of hiking in this hot, humid weather was beyond me.

“Sure.”

Together we set up camp, had a snack, and tied the remains of our food up out of reach of the chipmunks. “We need more water,” she said, wiping her forehead. “And I could use a swim. Want to go down to the beach? We can bring some water back for purifying.”

“Good idea,” I said. “And I’ve got a little something besides water in the meantime.” From my pack, I pulled out a flask I’d filled with my favorite bourbon.

She laughed. “Of course you do.”

I offered her the first sip, then I took two before sticking it back into my pack.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll race you.”

Since we still had our suits on, we took off running for the beach and didn’t stop until we hit the sand, where we tore off clothing and dashed into the cool, clear water. I beat her by a full five seconds because one of her bootlaces was tied in a knot.