Bet The Farm - Staci Hart Page 0,60

she deposited her burden on the porch before walking in my direction.

I took a long swig of my beer, figuring I’d need it.

She stopped beneath me, smiling up. “Got any more beer?”

“A couple.”

“I’ll be right up.”

My stomach climbed into my rib cage when she disappeared into the barn, and I took a second to make sure everything was suitable for her. I didn’t know why—it was a barn, for God’s sake. But she had on cutoffs, and the hay would make her legs all itchy. So I set my open beer back in the case and grabbed a horse blanket off a hook nearby to spread it out at the edge of the gable.

Her head came into view as she reached the hayloft. “What are you doing up here?”

I shrugged one shoulder and grabbed a fresh beer for her, twisting off the top to a hiss of carbonation. “Just watching.”

“Color me unsurprised. You’re not a doer.” She took a seat next to me with a mischievous look on her face and accepted the offered beer.

“Please, I do more than you could manage in a day. I’ve seen you shuck hay.”

At that, she laughed. “I really am bad at everything around here.”

I jerked my chin toward the fair. “Not everything.”

She brought the beer to her smiling lips and took a drink. I watched those lips a little too long.

“Not too shabby, is it?” she asked, appraising her domain.

“Nothing short of miraculous, if you ask me.”

Her face swiveled in my direction. “Did you just compliment me?”

I chuckled and took a sip. “Don’t let it go to your head, farmgirl.”

“Have you ever met me? I am most definitely putting that in my Thank Bank for later.”

“Your … thank bank? You don’t mean …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I eyed her instead.

“My thank bank. Things I’m thankful for that I can rifle through if I’m sad.”

“Only you.” I took a sip so she wouldn’t see my amusement.

She crossed her ankles and swung her feet a little. “It’s scarier up here than I remember.”

“When was the last time you were up here?”

She waggled her brows at me.

The night I kissed her a million years ago. “No. Really?”

“Really.” She leaned back a little, propping herself on one locked arm. “I like it up here. It’s quiet.”

“Not tonight.”

“Compared to down there it is.”

“Which is why I’m up here.”

Her gaze swept the crowd. “Seeing it from this perspective, it … makes you feel both big and small, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.”

“You’ll be happy to know we made a killing.”

“Good. Now I only regret it a little.”

She shook her head and bumped my shoulder.

“So are you gonna tell me what Chase wanted?”

Even in the dim glow from the lights below, I saw her flush. “Just to say hi.”

“He win you that pink monstrosity?”

“As a matter of fact, he did, and please refer to her by her Christian name—Esther P. Higgenbottom.”

“You should feed Miss Higgenbottom to the goats.”

Her mouth popped open. “You take that back.”

“She’d last all of twenty minutes before those bearded garbage disposals finished her off.”

She swatted at my arm, and I pretended to flinch. “You’re terrible, Jake.”

“What do you even do with that thing?”

“Lay in her lap and let her tell me about her homeland.”

“In the back of a carnie truck? Bet she’s got some stories to tell.”

“I’m eager to hear about her travels to exotic lands, so please, don’t joke.”

“I assume she was with you and Chase. Think I can get her to tell me what you talked about?”

“Oh, I think you know where her loyalty lies.”

I let the bit go in favor of laying my full attention on her. “What did he want?”

“Nothing in particular.” She squirmed and took a drink. “We’re just friends.”

“Does he know that?”

“He does now.”

I stilled. “Did he come on to you?”

“Not in that come on to you kind of way, but he asked me out. Again.”

A flash of jealous fury. I pressed it down. “Again?”

“And I told him no both times.” She rolled one shoulder and looked out over the crowd.

“You don’t think that’s fishy?”

“Why would that be fishy? Are you saying I’m not hot enough to get his attention?” she baited, one eyebrow arched.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying—”

A smile curled her lips. “Oh, so you do think I’m hot?”

I gave her a look. “He wants the farm, Olivia.”

“His father wants the farm. Also, I take your avoidance to answer the question of my hotness as a yes.”

“I never said that.”

“You implied.” She smiled sideways at me as

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