Demanding All Of You Page 15

  “Stay,” I said the only word that came to mind.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, getting to her feet.

  “You don’t need to take that job,” I said, jumping to my feet. “Stay. Work here.”

  She gave me a soft look. “It’s been fun.”

  “Fun?” I snapped, trying not to get angry but feeling hurt and pissed at the same time.

  “Tell Oliver I said goodbye,” she said and walked down the steps.

  I stood and watched her leave, her taillights growing dimmer. I couldn’t move. How the fuck did I fall for a woman who didn’t want me? I had plenty of women that had expressed interest, but none of them had interested me. I chose to fall for the one that didn’t want me.

  “Well fuck me,” I said, taking my seat in my rocking chair again.

  Clearly, what I had thought I felt from her had been very wrong. I felt used. She’d gotten laid and carried on like it had never happened. That was a new one for me. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about it. I supposed I should be happy I had gotten the chance to be with a woman like her at all.

  I finished my beer, slowly rocking back and forth and contemplating everything. I had only recently decided the farm was where I was supposed to be. I had some wild idea that she and I were supposed to be together.

  That had been foolish. I wasn’t usually prone to such wild fantasies, but she’d changed that. “Lesson learned,” I whispered. “Stay away from all women.”

  I would have to learn to get by with one-night stands. After having her, there was no way I could go back to a life of celibacy. She had awoken that part of me that refused to go quiet again. I went back into the house and found Oliver absorbed in his show.

  “It’s time for bed, buddy,” I told him.

  “Where’s Alex?” he asked.

  “She had to leave,” I told him.

  I wasn’t going to break his heart. Maybe there was a chance he would forget all about her. I was really going to have to buy him that horse now. He was going to need the distraction. Both of us were going to need the distraction.

  I put him to bed and called it an early night myself. I crawled into bed, wearing only my briefs. I laid awake, staring up at the ceiling as I tried to filter through what I was feeling. Was it just because she was the first woman I had been attracted to in a long time? Maybe it was the sheer loneliness I had been feeling for so many years. Alex was the first woman to come along that intrigued me.

  I analyzed the feelings, wondering if they were real. They sure as hell felt real.

  I just wished she had felt the same way.

  Chapter 24

  Alex

  I yawned, covering my mouth with the back of my hand as I followed the straight road that felt like it led to nowhere. My butt hurt. My neck had a horrible kink in it, and I was absolutely sick of driving. I had rolled into Laramie, Wyoming late last night after being on the road for over ten hours. I was exhausted but excited to check out the new farm.

  I loved a new challenge.

  I passed under a faded arch with a sign announcing I was on the Cobb farm. I looked left and right, driving slowly down the narrow dirt road. It looked a lot like Montana with the endless rows of wheat swaying in the wind. I realized after driving for several minutes I had yet to come upon the house. Was I still on the right road?

  Before I had time to pull over and turn around, I saw the house. Holy shit. The farm was massive. I wondered how many people Wayne had running the place. I saw a man on a tractor in the distance. We were both headed for the house. I parked my truck and got out, stretching my arms in the air before doing a couple of side bends to loosen up my stiff muscles.

  I looked around, expecting to find an army of workers manning machinery or something. It was eerily quiet. It was a little spooky. I felt like I had walked into a ghost town—or ghost farm more accurately. I could hear the tractor coming closer. I watched as an older gentleman parked the new John Deere. He climbed off, his tall, lanky body coming toward me.

  “You must be Alexandria,” he said with a big smile.

  “Alex,” I said, shaking his hand. He was a man in his sixties, I guessed. I was also guessing the bulk of his life had been spent outside, judging by the tanned, slightly leathery skin with plenty of wrinkles. Despite his appearance, he moved like a man in his prime.

  “I’m Wayne,” he said with a bright smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t realize your spread was quite so big.”

  He chuckled. “It’s been in the family for four generations. One of the few farms of this size left in the area. I don’t aim to be the one that screwed things up and lost part of it.”

  I smiled. “Do you have family that work out here with you?”

  He slowly shook his head. “It’s just me and Betty.”

  “Betty is your wife?” I guessed.

  He slowly shook his head. “Betty is my dog. Vera was my wife. She left me about five years ago. God wanted her back. I can’t blame him. She was a damn good woman. I’m just happy he let me have her for forty years.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

  He offered a smile. “Me too, but I know she’s waiting for me.”

  I cleared my throat. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

  He shrugged. “You’re looking at him. And yourself.”

  “Wayne, you’re taking care of this place on your own?” I asked with shock.

  He cringed. “That’s the problem. I haven’t. Not the way it should be. It’s going to fall apart. I don’t want to show up upstairs and have Vera shake her head at me. She’d be pretty disappointed.”

  “Wayne, why are you doing this alone?”

  He grinned. “I’m not now. You’re here.”

  I let out a sigh. I didn’t understand how men like Oliver and Wayne got to the point where they were the last men standing. “Wayne, this is a big farm. Not even I can do this alone and I’m good.”

  He chuckled. “I heard you were humble.”

  I laughed. “I can be, but not about this kind of thing. Why don’t you show me around and give me an idea of what’s going on?”

  “Do you want to come inside and take a load off? Have some tea or something?”

  “No, thank you. I drove straight through yesterday. The last thing I want to do is sit down.”

  “I understand. We’ll start here. This is my barn, but I don’t have any animals. I didn’t see the need. I’ve got Betty, and trust me, she’s all the animal I need. I keep a couple of tractors in there, along with my tools and whatnot.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Do you own your own farm machinery, or do you rent?”

  “I own the old harvester. When I say old, I mean old.”

  “Does it run? Will it be able to harvest this fall?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t see why not. It isn’t pretty or fancy, but I’ve been running that thing for years. It gets the job done.”

  “Good, that’s a start. Do you do the actual harvesting?”

  He nodded. “I get as much done as I can before the weather changes. I’m old, but I still got it.”

  I laughed. “I believe you.”

  We meandered around the area with him pointing out various buildings and showing me where the property line was. “This place is the lifeblood of my family. It almost seems silly to try and get this place up to speed.”

  “Why is it silly?” I asked.

  “I’m the end of the line,” he said with a sad sigh. “I’m it. I’m the last Cobb standing.”

  “You don’t have children? Grandchildren?”

  He gave me a wistful smile. “Vera and I had a son. As it turned out, he was meant to be our only child. We wanted a whole gaggle of kids, but God had other plans.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like it was completely inadequate.

  “When we lost our little Jimmy, it devastated us. We couldn’t understand how we had been given one child, only to lose him before his fifteenth birthday. We t
hought about adopting, and we did try, but we were too old apparently. I was the youngest of three brothers. They were both killed in Vietnam before they had children. You are looking at the last of the Cobb family.”

  “I am so sorry, Wayne.”

  “Nah, don’t be. I’ve had a good life. I’ve had true love. I lived hard and played hard.”

  I laughed. “Are you telling me you were a wild child?” I teased.

  “I was. I was going down a road that was going to lead me straight to hell, probably at a young age. It was Vera who turned me around. I met her and fell in love almost immediately. She wouldn’t have me. She wanted nothing to do with me—not until I cleaned up my act. She got me on the straight and narrow, and if I dared dip one little tippy-toe over that line, she whipped me right back into shape.”

  I burst into laughter. “I bet you kept her on her toes.”

  “I sure did, and she loved every minute of it,” he said with a laugh.

  “Have you thought about selling the place?” I asked, knowing it was probably a little insensitive, but it was practical.

  “I’ve thought about it, but I can’t do it. I think about my granddaddy working himself into an early grave and I can’t do it. It feels like a betrayal.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I planned to call you. I did. You’re here.”

  “And what would you like me to do?”

  “Fix it. I just don’t have the energy to make this place shine. Maybe it’s not energy I’m lacking but desire. I feel like I’ve given it my all. I’m tired.”

  I looked at him, looking for those signs I should have seen in Oliver. I refused to watch another old man die. Once had been hard enough. I couldn’t do it again. “I don’t see anything all that terrible. I think this is all very fixable.”

  “Do you have a man?” he asked.

  “Wayne Cobb!”

  “It’s a valid question. I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

  I rolled my eyes. The man was quite the character. “No, I don’t have a man,” I answered. My mind immediately went to Damion. I quickly shut down that line of thinking. He wasn’t my man. He had been a fling.

  “Good, I don’t either,” he said.

  “You don’t what?”

  “I don’t have a man,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I laughed, shaking my head. He was going to be a lot of fun to be around. “Good to know.”

  “Why hasn’t a man scooped you up yet?”

  I shook my head. His blunt, slightly personal questions would have offended me if they came from anyone else. “Because I don’t need, nor do I want, to be scooped up by anyone.”

  “Ah, one of those independent types,” he said.

  “Yes, I am and mighty proud of it.”

  “Good girl. You don’t need a man to be successful. Now, let’s talk turkey.”

  “Turkey?” I asked.

  “Yes, turkey, business, you know.”

  I nodded. “Ah, got it.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I need some lemonade. I’m an old man and walking all over tarnation takes it out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “We didn’t have to walk out there.”

  “Nah, it’s good for me. Have to keep my blood pumping. If I don’t, I’ll keel over.”

  I followed him into the house. It reminded me a lot of Oliver’s place. Old, worn furnishings and the smell of what I guessed were liquor and dust. The house wasn’t going to win any white glove awards, but it wasn’t a total pigsty. It looked lived in. By a bachelor.

  “Betty!” he shouted.

  That was the smell I couldn’t quite nail. Dog. I smelled dog. I heard nails tapping along the floor at a loping pace. A dog that looked like a small black bear lumbered into the room, tongue lolling.

  “There’s my girl,” Wayne said. The dog walked toward him and promptly sat down on his feet. “Betty, this pretty young lady is going to help us make the farm nice again.”

  “Hi, Betty,” I greeted the dog, feeling slightly ridiculous.

  “Betty’s been my girl for almost ten years. She’s getting up there in years and moves a little slower, but don’t let her fool you. She can still chase off any wily coyote if she needs to.”

  I smiled, looking at the dog that was as tall as she was round. I couldn’t imagine her ever running anywhere, but it was a nice thought. I was glad he had someone to keep him company. He had to get awful lonely.

  “Why don’t you have any livestock?” I asked him.

  “My dad tried the ranching thing, but it was a lot of work and not a lot of yield. He decided to stick with wheat and oat hay. I didn’t get any oat hay in this year. I just ran out of time.”

  “I bet you did. Have you used hands in the past?”

  “Oh, sure, but it’s hard to keep the good ones around. I usually like to hire a couple of high school boys to work the summer, but these days, they have their faces glued to those phones all the time. They’re an accident waiting to happen.”

  “I’m sure you can find some good ones willing to work hard for their money,” I insisted.

  “I’m sure I can. I just ain’t looked too hard.”

  “From what I’ve seen so far, I think that is a good idea,” I told him, doing my best to be gentle. I had learned over the years that men did not like to be made out to be weak. Accepting help didn’t come easy for any of them. I had to choose my words carefully and make it seem like it was their idea.

  “I’ll get us some lemonade and we can talk more. I’m sorry I don’t have any cake to offer you. Vera always had cake when company came around.”

  “I’ll be okay without cake,” I assured him. “Thank you for the lemonade.”

  I took a seat at the small round table pushed up against a window. Wayne carried two glasses of lemonade over and took a seat. Sitting across from him and out of the glare of the sun, I was able to get a better look at the man. He pulled off his hat and hung it off the back of his chair before turning soft brown eyes on me.

  “I’ll pay you whatever it takes,” he said, his tone somber.

  How could I resist?

  Chapter 25

  Damion

  I slid the handle on the toaster down, getting the frozen waffles cooking while I finished scrambling the eggs for Oliver’s breakfast. I was taking a shortcut with the frozen waffles, but I didn’t think he would care. It was still a fairly nutritious meal. I hadn’t slept well at all, and by the time I did fall asleep, it was early in the morning. I had overslept.

  I had spent the night thinking about Alex. I told myself to let it go, but it was like a bad craving. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had one last taste, or in her case, one last anything. It wasn’t only the sex. I liked her—the woman. I liked her friendship. I liked her smile and I liked how much Oliver liked her. The last was the toughest part of the whole situation. He really liked her, and he wouldn’t get to see her again because I went and screwed things up.

  “Oliver, breakfast is ready,” I hollered, pulling myself out of the same long lecture I had been going over in my head for the last two days.

  “Coming,” came his reply from down the hall.

  I slid the eggs onto the plate, quickly cut up his waffles, and dumped a healthy amount of syrup on them before putting the plate on the table. I checked the time, happy to see we still had a good fifteen minutes before I had to take him to school.

  He came into the kitchen holding a picture frame. “Is this you and grand—I mean great-grandpa?” he asked. It was a bit confusing for the kid. I called him grandpa.

  “You can call him grandpa,” I told him. It wasn’t like there would ever be any confusion. He had no grandpas.

  “Okay,” he said with a bright smile.

  I took the picture and looked at it. It was me and my grandfather at my high school graduation. It was one of the few pictures of us together. He wasn’t the kind of guy that posed for pictures. He was always on the go. I didn’t e
xactly have room to carry a camera in my back pocket like we all did today. I wished I would have taken more pictures. I wished he would have taken more pictures of my mom and dad. The memories were precious, and with every passing year, they tended to fade a little more without the benefit of being able to look at tangible reminders.

  I smiled, thinking back to the moment it had been taken. “That was the day I graduated high school.”

  “He looks happy,” Oliver commented before taking his seat at the table.

  I grabbed my coffee and joined him. “He was happy. I was happy. It was a good day.”

  “He looks a little bit like you,” he said, taking the picture back.

  I smiled. “I look like him. And you look like me. We’re Whittle men.”

  “Did he teach you how to be a farmer?” he asked, stuffing a bite of waffle into his mouth.

  I nodded. “He sure did. His dad showed him, and he showed my dad and then me. We have farming in our blood. Whittle men have always been farmers.” Although I didn’t feel very much like a farmer. I felt like an editor. I kept telling myself I needed to give it some time. Things would start clicking. I just had to wait for it to happen.

  He looked at me with confusion. “In our blood?” he asked, looking down at his arm.

  I chuckled. “It’s a saying. Our family was born to be farmers. All the Whittle men have been farmers.”

  “But you weren’t a farmer,” he reminded me.

  “I took a break.” I laughed. “A short break and now I’m back.”

  “Did you use to be a farmer?” he asked, clearly not buying my story. I didn’t guess he should. For the five years he’d known me, we’d lived in an apartment in the city. I wore suits every day and our exposure to nature was the park.

  “Yes,” I answered, needing to defend my farmer cred. “When I was your age, I had a lot of chores on the farm. Back then, we had horses, chickens, a few pigs, and even a couple of cows. It was a lot of work. I had to feed the animals and give them water every day before I went to school. When I got home from school, I had to do it all over again.”