“That it burned down?”
I nod.
Her lips flatten. “Then you know why I need straight cash. None of the headaches. None of the bullshit.”
Bullshit. This land. Working with me. That’s bullshit?
I can feel every tiny muscle in my neck and shoulders coil up. “This isn’t what Gus had in mind.”
She rears back, narrowing her eyes at me. “You know what Uncle Gus wanted for me?”
“As a matter of a fact, I do. He talked about it every once in a while.”
“And what was that, Dusty? He wanted me to rent out to you?”
I stare at her, tilting my chin up.
She shakes her head. “I’m not letting some kid farm for me.”
“You didn’t think I was a kid about an hour ago.”
Her nostrils flare and before she responds, a souped up Dodge pickup tears into my drive, spitting gravel.
Ed starts kicking up a fuss, barking like a maniac.
I know whose truck that is. And I have half a mind to let Ed out.
With a little twist of my lips, I turn back to the truck door and fling it open.
13.
Marnie
I didn’t mean to call him a kid.
He’s definitely not.
And it’s possible we’re both being a little childish.
But then he waltzes back and throws his truck door open.
My first thought is that he’s siccing the dog on me.
But then I realize he’s siccing the dog on someone else.
Namely, the lanky giant climbing out of his pickup truck.
Another pretty bean pole. At least this one is obviously younger than me. Nineteen or twenty, would be my guess.
The girl he has his hands around, on the other hand, can’t be much older than sixteen. She’s nothing short of angelic. Short, with soft, flowing blonde hair. She wears an oversized t-shirt that just skims past her cut-off jean shorts.
They don’t see any of us. Not Dusty. Not me. And definitely not the brown blur of fur barreling their way. They’re too busy staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. But then Ed is growling and barking like he’s spotted Satan.
I didn’t like it when Ed was coming towards me, but I almost cheer for him when he goes for the tall guy’s butt.
“Ed. Down!” The girl shouts, grabbing Ed’s collar.
Ed allows himself to be pulled away, but not without taking a souvenir. A scrap of the guy’s shirt.