Page 40 of The Best Kind of Bad

“Very good.” I like the way she feels against me. She’s nipping out through my shirt, pressing her body against my bare chest.

She rests her cheek against my shoulder, eyes scanning the dining room. “Ugh. It’s so overwhelming.”

I push a lock of hair behind her ears. “What’s overwhelming?”

“I’m going to have to clear this whole place out. I don’t even know where to start.”

My stomach drops. Here I was thinking about the future, when she was thinking about moving on.

We hear Ed barking in the distance, followed by the sound of tires on gravel. I glance out the kitchen window and spot a shiny new pickup pulling up to the house.

I recognize that truck. My mood sinks even lower. “Go get dressed.”

The words come out like a gruff command.

She stiffens, following my gaze outside. “Who’s that?”

“Jerry Lind. I imagine he’s here to talk about buying your land.”

“Really?” She pushes upright. “Judas. Ask and ye shall receive. Can you answer the door while I get dressed?”

“No.”

She tilts her head. “No?”

“Jerry and I…”

We don’t get along.

I think he’s a stuck up, judgmental asshole.

And he thinks I’m a no-good drunk piece of shit.

I gently pull my shirt over her head, tugging it right back over my own head. “I’ll sneak out the other door and try to buy you a few minutes. But don’t take too long. Else you might find one of us unconscious on the ground.”

She frowns like she wants to ask me more questions. But there isn’t time.

There just isn’t enough time.

With a woman like Marnie, eternity isn’t long enough.

27.

Marnie

Dusty’s lightning fast mood swing has me feeling dizzy.

I dig through my luggage, grabbing a pair of jean shorts and a sweatshirt. Shrugging into my clothes, I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers and move through the house.

Nerves flutter in my stomach.

I wanted to sell the place, but now that things are swinging into action, I feel wildly out of depth.

Too bad I don’t have my farm manager on my side. Dusty clearly wants nothing to do with this Jerry character. I’ll have to ask him about that later.

Pushing open the back door, Ed trots over, tail wagging. He sits on my feet, head tilted up with pride. Dusty and Jerry stand near a shiny new pickup truck. It’s pretty apparent neither man is very fond of the other, but they’re both making an attempt to be civil.

Dusty catches sight of me, winking at me reassuringly, before turning to trudge back across the farmyard. Jerry looks almost relieved to be free of him.

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