Shameless(55)

For the first time, the thought of leaving seems truly bittersweet. I can’t deny how good it felt to wake up with this girl wrapped around me. And I’m not a sleepover kind of guy. Gwen and I hooked up for months, and I never felt the urge to stay in her bed when we were done. Or God forbid, hold her when we were done. But when I got up last night to clean up, I couldn’t fathom not crawling back into bed with Kat.

Sleeping with her felt amazing, almost as good as waking up with my morning wood pressed firmly against her curvy ass. And when she arched into me with a sleepy moan, I couldn’t help but go for round two.

God bless my baby niece for sleeping through the night. And bless Mrs. Mac for dropping by and offering to babysit for two hours so we could hit up the nursery.

“Which is it?” Hank asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?” I should be paying closer attention. It was my idea to come here after all.

Kat tries to hide a grin. Is she replaying last night in her head too?

Hank points at the picture of the plant. “Is it four from center or five?”

I frown, feeling like I should know this shit after working for my dad these last several months. Thankfully, Katherine responds. “Five feet from center.” Then she whispers to me, “The distance between the rows, starting at the center of the plant.”

He nods and scratches his bald head. His eyebrows lift. “How’s your pH balance?”

Again, I have no f*cking clue, but Kat answers again. “Seven point five.” She glances at me. “I just checked last week. The back field is six, but I think we have a little lime we can put down.”

Hank nods his approval. “You should be all set for the spring.”

He ambles off to gather a few supplies, and I stare at this beautiful girl in front of me. “How do you do that?”

Her head tilts. “Do what?”

“Save my ass. Every time.”

She laughs. “Just doing my job. Don’t be melodramatic.”

“Bullshit. You’re amazing at everything—knowing the plants, taking care of Izzy, caring for the animals. Seriously.”

She shrugs. “You know I love the farm. It’s easy to care of the things you love.”

Those hazel eyes dart away, and I don’t miss the deepening hue in her cheeks. I nod and ignore the tightness in my chest at those words. And then I kiss her forehead. “You’re too good for me. Just so we’re clear.”

“Don’t I know it.” She laughs, sounding relieved I didn’t make more of what she just said. But I know the sincerity behind those words, and I’m not a dick enough to think they’re directed at me.

Hank returns with a few different pairs of shears, and I let Kat pick out the ones we buy because she obviously knows more about this shit than I do.

We order a few supplies for the farmers’ event, and as we’re checking out, I watch her chat with Hank and enjoy their easy banter. She asks about his wife and listens as he complains about his herniated disc. She tells him about Izzy walking and wanting to get into everything. He tells her his wife loved her lemon-lavender bar recipe.

I’m watching them with a smile… until I remember why we’re at the nursery in the first place—so I can prep the farm to sell it.

Getting my realtor’s message the other day that he’s had several people express interest in the farm had me both leaping for joy and dreading the day I sell. Because while nothing about the lifestyle is easy, I see why my brother loved it so much. Everywhere I look, I see his life and what he was trying to build with his new family.

And I feel like a rotten bastard for wanting to hand it over to the highest bidder. To a perfect stranger.

But the reason my stomach is in knots is because I loathe the day I have to tell Katherine it’s over. Because that day is coming.

We’re not officially on the market yet, but Kent says he wants me to carry on with my plan to make any cosmetic changes the farm needs. Then he noted I should prep the fields for the upcoming harvest in the event this process takes longer than expected.

“It could take a few weeks or months or longer,” Kent said, not wanting to get my hopes up.

Weeks. The word made my heart sink. Which is f*cking insane. I spent one night with Kat, and already it’s muddling what I know I need to do. What I have to do. Because I don’t have a choice.





35





Katherine





The sound of an engine starting and sputtering across the dinner table makes my lips quirk up.

Brady has a spoon full of mashed potatoes he’s been trying to get Izzy to eat for the last five minutes, but every time he gets it near her mouth, she tightens her lips with an impish grin. So he’s gone to full-out airplane mode, pretending to fly her food like a little Cessna coming in for a landing.

When she finally relents and gobbles it down, he cheers her on.

“All right, baby! Fist jab!” He holds out his clenched hand, and his niece thwacks her hand into his with a giggle.

Oh, Lord. I hold in a laugh.

Brady might not have held a baby before he arrived here, but you’d never know that now. To look at him, you’d think he was a pro. Well, except for the occasional toxic poop that gets him crying to me for help.