Page 26 of The Reason I Married Him
“Why?” I ask. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because . . . I own part of this land, and I should know what’s going on.”
Growing very frustrated because I know it can’t be the real reason he’s here, I place my hand on my hip and stare back at him. “But why? Why do you want to know what’s going on? And don’t say because you own the land. You’ve owned it for a while. Something must have changed recently that’s brought you here, and I want to know what it is.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little personal?” he asks.
“No.”
“You barely know me. Why don’t you offer to take me out to dinner before you start digging around in my personal life?”
“I’m not asking you out to dinner.”
He scratches the side of his jaw. “Might be good for you to get to know the owner of the other half of the farm. Maybe we can come to an agreement of sorts.”
“What kind of agreement?” I ask, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise.
“The kind of agreement where we can mutually agree on how to run the farm.”
“Uh, the farm is running just fine, thank you.”
“Is it, though? You’re growing potatoes.”
My protective walls are firmly in place as I stare him down. “We grow potatoes to make vodka. With that vodka, we produce almond vodka and almond extract for The Almond Store. We also started harvesting honey and will soon sell eggs as well.”
He slowly nods his head. “And this is for The Almond Store . . . but you grow potatoes.”
“Yes,” I say, exasperated with this conversation. “What don’t you understand?”
“I don’t get why you don’t grow almonds. Isn’t that the main part of your business?”
“It is,” I say through clenched teeth. “But if you were part of the farming industry, you’d understand that the best place to grow almonds is inland, not along the coast, which is where we’re located. Therefore, we purchase the almonds and grow the potatoes.”
“Interesting.” He pauses for a moment and looks around. “Have you tried growing almonds?”
“I can’t with this,” I say as I walk away. “You have no idea what you’re doing, and I’m not about to waste my time attempting to educate you.”
“That doesn’t seem very friendly,” he says, following me.
“What made you think I was friendly?”
“Great point,” he says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.” I hop into my four-by-four, and before I can even get it started, he hops in as well.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask him.
“Going for a ride.” He grins at me.
“No, you’re not.”
“I think I am.” He buckles himself in, and my irritation hits an all-time high.
I grip the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. Arguing with him doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Maybe I need to take a different approach.
What would Echo say?
You can catch more bees with honey.
So with a deep breath, I say, “Wyatt, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
