Page 40 of The Reason I Married Him
“Good to know. Anything or anyone else I need to worry about?”
Hayes shakes his head. “Other than Aubree, I think you’re good.”
“Think she’s my biggest hurdle?”
“Mountain, man. She’s your biggest mountain.”
And with that, he takes off, heading back toward the general store, pickles in hand.
Yeah, I think he’s right. To get what I want, I’ll have to climb a mountain.
Fuck me,why do my inner thighs hurt so much?
It’s not like I did a set of lunges with extra weight that would turn my legs into noodles today, but here I am.
I brought some muffins from The Sweet Lab for everyone to share this morning, hoping to gain some favorable points for my side, but the moment I pulled up to the barn and parked my car, I realized that there really isn’t anyone else here, besides Aubree’s four-by-four.
Maybe it’s a late start day or something.
I walk—and I mean slowly tip tap across the dirt driveway because, Jesus Christ, my legs—and stop when the chicken coop comes into view.
Hayes was right.
The wiring has been installed and a ramp from inside the barn to the outside portion has been built as well.
Did she stay up late and work on it, or wake up early this morning? Maybe a little of both.
Either way, she’ll give me a run for my money. I didn’t think winning over Aubree would be easy, but if this is what I’m dealing with, I’m in a lot of trouble.
Unsure of where she is, I head toward the barn with the muffins—and my electrolytes—just as she appears from the dark side of the barn, holding a pair of wire cutters.
And I know that I said Aubree was beautiful in front of Hayes, but fuck . . . I meant it. She has a natural, earthy beauty that you don’t see very often. Today, she’s wearing short overalls and a red tube top so her curvy sides are showing. Her hair is styled into two French braids, and she has scrunched socks and work boots on her feet. But what sends me over the edge is the rolled-up bandanna in her hair and the coat of mascara framing her breathtaking eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as her morning greeting. It could have been worse. She could have told me to go to hell.
Or she could have taken my box of muffins from my hand and chucked them against the barn wall, so I should be happy with this.
“Good morning to you as well.”
“It was good until you showed up.”
Ooo, is she ripe today.
I kind of like it.
“Clever,” I say and then hold out the box of muffins. “Stopped by The Sweet Lab. I asked Debbie behind the counter what kind of muffin Miss Aubree Rowley enjoys, and she told me you like the maple apple muffin, so I got you some.”
She stares at the box but doesn’t move.
“I know you want one. She told me you love them so much that she sees you buying one at least once a week.”
“She’s lying.”
“Is she?” I ask with a raise of my brow.
“Yes,” she says, snatching the box from me and setting it on the tractor wheel. She flips open the lid, takes one, and bites into the top without even removing the wrapper.
Okay . . . maybe we’re getting somewhere. Maple apple muffins are the way to her heart.
