Billionaire's Second Chance (Billionaires #16) - Jennifer Hartley Page 0,23

a bit exhausting trying to avoid him all the time, and it wasn’t like I wanted to avoid him—which made it even harder—so maybe getting out of the house entirely was the best thing to do. That way, there was no way that I could be tempted, and the closest that I would get to doing something foolish again would be inside my thoughts.

I figured that the guys would continue working until dark, which was about when I would be getting back from town, and that DeShawn would probably be heading out by then. It wasn’t likely that he would stay at the farmhouse for a second night in a row. He had a life to lead, too. He had a business to tend to and an estate to settle. And I was sure that no matter how much the two of us had played at things, we both knew that we were adults and that reality was a part of adulting that we couldn’t avoid.

I picked up the barrel that I was looking for at the side of the house and then waved to Scott in the field to let him know that I was leaving to go into town now. I saw DeShawn glance up to see what I was doing and then turn to say something to Scott. Before I got distracted again, I wheeled around and hoisted the heavy barrel up onto my hips as I walked with it toward the car. I would need to rearrange a few things to make room. The more that I could bring with me to sell, the more opportunity there was for money to be made. With that in mind, I decided to grab just a few more of the smaller barrels by the side of the house before I left.

10

Deshawn

“What is she doing?” I asked. I paused what I was working on and looked over at the side of the house where Clara was lifting up some of the barrels of food and taking them to her car. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, there’s a bi-monthly farmer’s market in town,” Scott said without stopping his work. “She’s heading downtown to set up a stand and sell some of the stuff we’ve harvested and also some of the things that she’s canned and pickled. She does it every time the market is up and running. Even if we don’t have produce to sell, which we usually do, Clara finds something around the farm to take there—eggs, milk, little shit that she’s crafted. Looks like she’s just loading up the car now and getting ready to go.”

“Does she need any help?” I asked as I watched Clara hoist the heavy barrels up against her waist and balanced the weight of them on her hip.

Scott laughed and shook his head. “When does my sister ever need any help?” he said. “Clara is as stubborn and strong-willed as they come. Last time I tried to help her, she acted like a rabid dog and almost bit my hand.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“I’m joking,” he teased. “I’m just saying that she’s not one to ask for help.”

“Yeah, I know that,” I said. But then I saw her stumble and nearly drop the barrel that she was holding. Without thinking about it, I raced over to help her.

“What are you doing?” Clara asked me when I took the barrel from her hands and easily lifted it into one arm.

“I’m helping you,” I said.

“I don’t need your help,” she said with a stubbornly wrinkled brow.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to help.” I could see that she was getting ready to protest, so I interrupted her before she could. “Which other ones are you taking with you?” I asked as I pointed to the rest of the barrels and baskets along the house.

“Just those two,” she said, pointing them out.

I reached down and grabbed all of them with ease. Then I carried them to her car as she walked alongside me. After we had finished loading up the car, she pulled out her keys and got ready to leave.

“Hang on a second,” I said. “Wait right there. Don’t leave yet.”

I ran back over to tell Scot that I was heading into town with Clara.

“Why in the world would you want to go sit at that market?” he asked. “Trust me, she’s used to doing it by herself.”

“I’m sure she is,” I said. “But if I help set up the booth, then it’ll get