Page 24 of Rough
Betsy hums in her saddle as we slowly walk the perimeter of the pond. “If you had a life like he had, wouldn’t you wanna spend every day in a place like this? He needs only peace.”
I’d love to saddle Fielder up and ride out to find her, but I don’t want to waste time. There’s a trail that the SUV can handle, if she’s kept it tended. Looking around once again at the farm, I’m confident she has been. This place looks well taken care of.
Ten minutes later, the trees part and a glimmer of sunlight blinks back at me once the pond comes into view. I stop the vehicle a bit of the way back, and walk closer, scanning for Frank.
My breath is released in a whoosh when I see him grazing about a third of the way around the edge, but Betsy is nowhere in sight. Doesn’t mean she’s not there, though.
Picking my way through the grass, I stop a few feet from her as soon as she comes into view. She’s laid out on her back, hands clasped over her stomach loosely and her hat over her face to block out the sun.
I study her for a few minutes, taking in the new curves that weren’t all there before we left. Visions of her laid out under me right in this spot flash through my memory, but I shake them away. I’m not sure if she knows I’m here or if she’s sleeping. This girl can sleep through a tornado.
“You gonna lay down, Billy?” Her voice is muffled through the hat as she remains unmoving.
Grunting, I drop next to her on my knees, keeping a bit of space between our bodies. “Howdya know it was me?”
Slowly, her finger lifts to push her hat up, peeking at me with a squinted eye. “Well, I’m certain Rem doesn’t wanna see me right now, and Wild never cared much about comin’ out here. Figured one of you would show up sooner or later.”
“What are you doin’, Country?” I ask as I lay next to her, our elbows brushing, but nothing else.
Letting her hat fall back to her face, she shrugs her shoulders. “Well, I’m takin’ a nap. Been a long day. Got more to do tonight, so I’m breakin’ for now.”
“You know that’s not what I’m askin’.”
“I know what you’re askin’, but I’m not answerin’. If Rem wants answers, he can come ask himself. Besides, I think he’s got different questions than you do.”
Turning on my side to face her, I support my head with a fist to my cheek and lift her hat from her face. I drag my eyes over her, finally seeing her up close for the first time in over five years.Christ, she’s beautiful.
Last time I looked at her this closely, those eyes were filled with hurt and tears after learning we were leaving. We were dicks and should have talked to her about it beforehand.
My eyes fall on the light bruises under her eyes, most likely from lack of sleep. She’s thinner now as well. That bit of baby weight from the amazing food her Grams used to keep in the kitchen is all gone now.
I shift over her further to block the sun from her face, my shadow allowing her to open her eyes more. They’re slightly bloodshot, either from crying or dust kicking up on the trails.
“You’re exhausted,” I whisper, reaching out a finger to push against the skin bunched between her brows.
Her blink is slow, like she could fall asleep just like this, but she swallows and opens them back up, fixed on my face. “I am. My guys didn’t show up today, so I’ve been short-handed with the chores.”
I hide my wince from her. That was our doing, but I don’t tell her that.
Gathering courage, I say, “You took his farm.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“His daddy asked me to.” Her eyes are bouncing back and forth between mine, looking for something from me.
“You don’t think he should’ve had a chance to be a part of the decision?”
Her shrug to brush off my question bothers me. “Maybe. But that wasn’tmydecision, now, was it? They asked me to sign, so I signed. Remy can take it up with his momma and me when he’s done poutin’ like a toddler.”
“You can’t run this farm,” I growl, sitting up, feeling bad when the sun hits her eyes after I move, making her squeeze them tight. She plants her hand on my chest and pushes me back, giving her space to sit up and face me.
With arms on her knees and hands hanging between them, she cocks her head when she asks, “Why? ‘Cuz I’m a woman? Or ‘cuz I’m me?” Leaning toward me, her lip curls up when she demands, “What about me makes you think I’m incapable?”
A lot. But it’s got nothin’ to do with what’s between your legs, Country.
“I mean doin’ it alone. You can’t run italone.”
