Page 94 of Rough
“She’s a menace,” Betsy murmurs, and I can’t stop from pressing a kiss to her lips. Using my thumb to wipe across her lower lip, I lean my forehead to hers.
“Listen to me,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “We were, and always have been, fuckin’ assholes. You’re smarter, sharper, and more capable of runnin’ this place than any of us ever could be. I refuse to sign my name to those papers when I know otherwise. I’m here foryouand nothin’ else. You hear me? I don’t want the fuckin’ farm. I only want you.”
She’s silent for a long while, taking in what I’ve said and processing. My mom eventually calls out to us again. “Are you two still talkin’? ‘Cuz I can’t hear a dang word!”
“Mom!” I shout out, scolding her, but Betsy is dissolving into a fit of watery laughs. Running a finger under her eyes, I raise my brows in surprise. “You cryin’, Bets?”
“Fuck off, I don’t cry.” Her tone is snippy, so I press my lips together to stop myself from arguing with her. Cupping her cheeks, I study her.
“Will you stop tryin’ to sell it back to me? We all want you runnin’ our world for us.”
Betsy pissed is just as glorious as Betsy turned on as well as Betsy extremely happy. “I’m mad at you for doin’ this.”
I kiss her nose in acknowledgement. “I know you are, but you’ll let me have my way, right?” It’s obvious she wants to argue, so I do my best to drive my point home. “Bets, this place hasalwaysbeen your heart. We lived here and worked here, but this place is, and always will be, yours.”
Huffing out, she pulls away. I know my words have affected her, but she’s stubborn as a mule. Crossing her arms, she taps her foot on the floor before glancing at me. “I don’t wanna keep your money. It doesn’t sit right with me. I haven’t touched it and it bothers me every time I look at my balance. If ya’ll won’t let me give it back to you, I’ll agree to not sellin’ the farm back if I can put all of your names on my account as joint owners.”
The corner of my mouth lifts up because I know something she doesn’t. “Bets, we aren’t puttin’ our names on your bank account until you agree to marry us.”
“Impossible. It’s not legal. How the hell you expect me to marry all of you?”
Shrugging, I wave her off. “I’m sure we could figure somethin’ out, but that’s a topic for another day. For now, will you agree to this? I don’t want the farm back.”
My mom comes storming back into the kitchen, shoving the door open proudly. “Now thatthat’ssettled, you two want lunch? I already sent the lawyer home.” Without waiting for either of us to answer, she focuses on Betsy. “Give the other two a call and tell them to come over. I’m sure they’re not far off and I’ve got some lunchmeat to clear from my fridge before I go shoppin’ again.”
“Renee,” my girl says slowly. When mom turns to her, whatever look she’s reading on her face has her covering her mouth and laughing. “Not lunch, then?”
Betsy shakes her head slowly, then stands from the table. “Sorry. But we’ll for sure come over for dinner.”
I’m so goddamn confused as I bounce my gaze between the two of them. Unsure if this is some coded ‘women’ speak, but clearly, I’m missing something important. “Why not lunch?”
Mom waves us off. “I’ll see ya’ll for dinner. Think I’ll make a ham.” Betsy hurries over to her side and presses a kiss to her cheek.
“Love you, momma.”
Momma cups her cheek and gives her a fond smile. “I love you more than words could ever express. Now, run off and I’ll pretend I know nothin’.”
“The hell are you two talkin’ about?” I ask, feeling fucking clueless, but I truly think that this time, it’s not my fault.
Betsy leans forward and pats my cheek in sympathy. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it. Would you tell the other two to meet over at our place and I’ll explain when we get there?”
Grumbling, I send Clyde and Wilder a quick text, then stand from the table. Walking over to my mom, I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Wish you weren’t so conniving, but it’ll never make me stop lovin’ you.”
With a giggle, mom gives me a quick hug, then shoves us toward the door. “Five-thirty! Don’t be late!”
“We won’t!” Betsy calls out after grabbing my hand and dragging me to the door. Once we’re to my truck, she hops in the passenger seat and is rubbing her hands over her thighs nervously as I start it up.
“What’s goin’ on?” I ask, but she only shakes her head. We drive back to her place in silence; not uncomfortably, but I’m curious about what she’s thinking. As soon as I park in front of the house, she’s hopping out and jogging toward the bed of her truck, dropping the tailgate.
Wilder and Clyde are already here, and they head over to me, all of us keeping our eye on what Betsy is doing. “What’d you all need to go to your mom’s place for?” Wilder asks.
“She tried to sell me back my farm.” Betsy pulls out a length of rope and slams the gate shut, then squats to untangle it on the ground.
Huffing in annoyance, Clyde crosses his arms. “You didn’t do it, right? You said you weren’t gonna do it.”
Rolling my eyes, I glare at him. “No, I didn’t do it. Of course I didn’t. We’ve talked about this.”
“What’s she doin’?” Wilder asks. We stare at her, standing close together so we can talk with low voices.
