Page 13 of Till The Cows Come Home
“No worries.” I chuckled.
She put her hands on the concrete, readying to push herself up, but then hovered for a moment.
“Would it be okay if I used your bathroom? I went to use the one in the barn, but it looks like you’re renovating.”
“Sure, I only have two more in this set and then I can let you in?”
“Take your time,” she said, relaxing back onto the edge, and as I finished the last of the group, she sat watching, nervously tapping her feet against the concrete edge as if she was somehow intruding.
“All done,” I said, wiping my iodine stained hands on my pants. “Ready?”
She nodded, jumping up to her feet, following me as I led the way to a place she knew better than I ever would. I panicked slightly as we approached the house, remembering the tornado of paperwork I’d let take over the dining room, but it was too late to turn back now. When I opened the door, she scuffled straight to the bathroom and I let out a sigh of relief when she didn’t stop to look around. A few moments later I heard the sink shut off and when she swung the door open, I cursed at my short-lived luck, watching as paperwork went flying.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath, pausing as she scanned the documents she retrieved. “Are these old registrations?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as I snatched the papers from her hands.
“They’re not that old, but yes, I’ve been waiting to send a bunch together. It’s cheaper.”
She turned, taking in the entire mountain of parchment I’d collected. “There have to be hundreds of documents here, Miles. Please tell me they’re not all registrations.”
“No, of course not. Some are registrations I’ve gotten back, some stud documentation, milk counts, feed bills. You must be familiar with all of this,” I said, defending myself against her scrutiny.
“Yeah, I’m just usually familiar with it being in a filing cabinet.”
“Well, obviously, whatever you were familiar with wasn’t working.”
Regret penetrated my bones as I saw the flush travel across her cheeks in response to my harsh words, embarrassment and shame creeping across her features as if she was the one who single-handedly drove her farm into the ground.
“I'm sorry Sage, I didn’t mean that,” I muttered, but before I could continue she stood from where she was crouched and walked straight out the door, leaving me to watch her walk away for the second time this week.
Chapter Eight
Sage
Ibarreled through my apartment door, tunnel vision guiding me straight to the edge of my bed, my body desperate for the wave of comfort I knew awaited me as I flopped in. Once engulfed by my comforter, I closed my eyes, attempting to decipher the feelings radiating through me as I fought back tears. Anger-tinged sorrow simmered beneath my skin, and when I couldn’t decide which emotion to cling to, I pulled out my phone to text Ruby, begging her to come over.
Satisfied that I made myself sound desperate enough for her to show, I tossed my phone across the bed, frustrated at my own body’s response. How could I be so stupid? I assumed Miles to be a charmer the first time I met him, yet I found myself getting lost in his charade anyway, allowing the butterflies in my stomach to fly me into naivety. I played his low blow over in my head, roller-coasting between understanding and bitterness until I heard a small knock at my bedroom door, followed by Ruby’s eyes peeking around the corner.
“Hey girl,” she said, surveying my body language in what seemed like an effort to gauge what she was dealing with.When I didn’t answer, still deep in thought, she crawled into bed next to me.
“Does this have to deal with a super sexy lumberjack?”
“More like an unorganized, spicy lumberjack,” I mumbled.
“What happened?”
Ruby was silent, listening intently as I gave her a play-by-play of my morning, and after I divulged every detail, a drawn out hum was all that left her lips.
“Hmm? That’s it?”
“Do you want me to agree with you or do you want my opinion?” she asked, dipping her head so our eyes met.
I dropped my face into my pillow, surfacing only to mumble, “go ahead,” granting her the permission to dole out the tough love she’d undoubtedly been holding back.
“You’re just two stubborn farmers in a pissing match over who can do things better. Instead of supporting his efforts to improve the place, you focused on the negatives to make yourself feel better. I know it’s hard, but you’re bitter about what you weren’t given the chance to do.”
“Ouch,” I whispered, but the scrutiny was spot on.
“That doesn’t give him the right to be an ass either, but if you’re going to break into his farm, you’re probably going to have to learn to get along.”
