But it’s much more than that to me. This is my life. My passion. My family’s legacy. It’s much more than a bunch of apple trees, and I take how it’s run seriously.
Last night when I picked her up for dinner, I wasn’t in the mood to shoot the shit. I had to force a full day of work into an afternoon because of her. To say I’m exhausted is an understatement, and this week will progressively worsen.
This morning, I woke up still annoyed that I had to chauffeur her around. When I arrive at the cottage, I honk twice instead of getting out. After ten minutes pass, I lay on the horn. As soon as I unbuckle, the front door swings open and she strolls out at such a slow pace that I nearly bite my tongue off.
Oakley hops inside, wearing her signature smile. She smells so damn good that it’s nearly intoxicating, and I hate it.
“Don’t make me wait like that ever again. Next time you do, I’m driving away, and you can figure it out on your own.”
“Try me,” she warns. “Actually, I dare you. I know your sweet momma and aunt wouldn’t allow it.”
I roll my eyes at her petty threat. “You’d have to walk five miles to get to them first.”
She groans as I put the truck in drive and make our way to the west side of the property. We spend most of the day driving around before stopping for lunch. It’s nonstop between us, and all day we’re at each other’s throats about how fast I move and how slow she walks. Every punch I throw, she swings right back. One thing is for certain—Oakley is on her A game today and isn’t taking my shit.
“It’s time to go,” I bark when we’ve spent too much time staring at an open field. My grandmother will be serving dinner soon, and I want to make sure we arrive at a decent time, so I can get home and shower before bed.
“We’ll go when I’m ready.” Oakley takes more pictures.
“You’re ready.” I settle behind the steering wheel, then honk. She nearly jumps out of her skin, but then flips me off. After putting the truck in drive, I roll down the window. “Get in, or I’m leaving ya here.”
After she shoves her phone into her pocket, Oakley makes her way toward me.
“Was that a threat?” She clenches her jaw.
“It’s about to be a promise.” I rev the engine before shifting into drive. As soon as I step on the gas, Oakley jogs after me, and after a minute of slowly cruising and her unable to catch up, I come to a hard stop. The truck slides on the gravel, kicking up dust.
“What the hell? You’re so rude!” She jumps in and slams the door while trying to catch her breath.
“I don’t have time for you to take a hundred pictures of the same thing. It’s exhausting, and you’re wasting my time.”
“I’m trying to work!” she exclaims. “Don’t question my process! You’ve purposely been an asshole all day. It’s like you get off on interrupting my flow.”
We continue arguing all the way to the inn.
After parking, we get out, and she follows me. “You’re always rushing around, for what? Have you never heard of living in the moment? I’m sure your mother taught you manners. There’s no reason for you to keep acting like a douchebag.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep up, City Girl.” I turn around and face her. It only takes a few long strides before I stand in front of her. I lower my voice, but my tone is rough. “Respect my time and what I’m sacrificing to drive you around as you take pictures and play with your sketchbook. I never volunteered to be your tour guide.”
“No kidding because an actual tour guide would give a shit about their guests' experience. It’s clear that you don’t, and you’re just worried about all the little tasks you have to do. If this painting isn’t finished and perfect...” She clears her throat, removing the little space between us, and I can feel her hot breath on my face. “I don’t understand what your fucking problem is.”
“Sweetheart, you’re my problem,” I murmur.
Her eye twitches as she stares at me. She lifts her finger and digs it into my chest. “You’re forty acting like a teenager with your mood swings. If only your grandma and mother knew how much of an asshole you really are, they would’ve never stuck me with you.”
That makes me chuckle. “I’m not forty, but please be my guest. They’re well aware of how I operate.”
“Well, old enough to know how to treat people. It’s a week's worth of your time. I bet you can spare that much for something your family will treasure for years.”
“Then learn to keep up with my schedule, and we won’t have an issue.”
“Not everyone works at that speed. Have some consideration for others,” she throws back.
“I lost my ability to give a shit a long time ago, so don’t hold your breath, Little Miss Sunshine.”
Oakley shakes her head as she walks past me toward the inn, and it’s clear this conversation is over. As soon as I catch up and walk ahead of her, I freeze in place, and Oakley nearly crashes into my back.
“What the—”
“Stay put,” I tell her, then take a few steps toward my ex-girlfriend.
“Finn,” Aspen purrs, her ruby-red lips turning up into a smile as she closes the gap between us.
“What are you doing here?” I haven't seen her in a year, and the last thing I expected was to see her today.
“Aunt Paisley practically begged me to help the bakery for the centennial celebration. You know how I can’t tell that woman no.” Her sugary-sweet voice makes me cringe.
“She’s not your aunt,” I remind her, crossing my arms. Aspen’s the one who left without a single glance. She doesn’t get to claim my family as hers.
She bellows out that fake laugh I hate. “I grew up here with you, so she will always be Aunt Paisley. Plus, I wouldn’t miss this monumental milestone. One hundred years is a big deal!”
Aspen showing up like nothing happened between us—like we’re old friends and she’s still a part of my family—has me ready to explode. She has no business being here. I’m already dealing with enough. This is the last thing I need right now.
Aspen fiddles with her bangs, and that’s when I notice the huge engagement diamond ring on her finger. It’s impossible to miss, but I know she wanted me to notice it.
For years, Aspen was adamant that we needed to wait and there was no rush to get married. She kept saying she wasn’t ready. But that was all a lie. She just didn’t want to marry me.
“Where are you staying?” I bluntly ask as Oakley joins and stands next to me. Before responding, she gives Oakley a dirty look, which actually pisses me off. I might give her a hard time, but no one else is allowed to, especially not Aspen.
“The cottage.” Aspen’s so confident in her answer that it's almost comical. Who the hell gave her permission for that?
Oakley finally speaks up, standing taller. “Actually, I’m already staying there.”
Aspen narrows her eyes and gives Oakley a look of disgust. “And who are you exactly?”
I blurt the words out before I can stop myself.
“Oakley Benson. She’s the painter my grandma hired. She’s also my girlfriend.”