Page 42 of The Reason I Married Him
“Uh . . . no?”
“You better not. If I were a man and I decided to finish the chicken coop that a lady started the day before, it would look as if I was chivalrous. Like I was a kind man, not making the lady do all the work, but because you’re the man starting the project and I’m the one finishing it, I’m coming off as a bitch, aren’t I?”
“Well, I wouldn’t use the word bitch. Probably strong-willed. And it’s not about you completing the project but more so your attitude.”
“What if the roles were reversed? Wouldn’t you be seen as the grumpy man, the Luke Danes who everyone loves, while I’m the crotchety Emily Gilmore?”
“Nice references,” I say. “And I don’t see you that way.”
“You’re just saying that,” she says as she toes the ground. “Trust me when I say I know what everyone in this town thinks of me.”
“Oh yeah? What do they think of you?” I ask.
“That I’m stubborn, mean, rude, jaded.”
“Is that how you feel?”
Her eyes meet mine, and she pauses for a moment, making me believe she actually might talk to me...until she says, “I wasn’t looking for a therapy session this morning, Wyatt.”
“Wasn’t offering one.”
She takes a bite of her muffin, and with a full mouth, she asks, “What are you doing here? All I heard yesterday from Ryland is how the town is falling in love with you. You’ve been here for one day. What are you trying to do? Win them over so you can steal my farm out from under me? I’m going to tell you right now?—”
“I don’t want the farm,” I say, causing her to pause midsentence in shock.
She swallows her bite. “Wait, what?”
I let out a sigh, wishing I didn’t have to have this conversation now, but if I don’t, I think she’ll keep trying to get rid of me, and we’ll just go around in circles. If I have the conversation now, maybe she can warm up to the idea or even say yes. Maybe she’ll be relieved, who knows.
“I think this conversation would be best if we go sit down somewhere.”
I can sense her hesitation, but with her muffin in hand, she walks out of the barn, and I follow her, thinking that’s what she wants.
She brings me to a small white building, which she opens up to reveal a quaint office. Where was this on the tour?
Probably didn’t want me to see it in case I started snooping. I wouldn’t put it past her.
She sits at the desk while I sit in one of the chairs across from her.
I manspread while she crosses one leg over the other.
“You want to have a conversation.” She motions her hand toward me. “Converse.”
I guess, here we go.
“I don’t want the farm, Aubree. I actually don’t want anything to do with it. I’m willing to hand over my rights, free of charge. You just take everything.”
She sits taller, her muffin ignored now.
“Why would you do that? Unless . . . is there a catch?”
“Yes,” I answer, not wanting to hide it.
“Of course.” She leans back in her chair. “There’s always a catch. I knew you were here for a reason. You came in here, acting like you wanted to get close to your niece?—”
“I do,” I say quickly. “I do want to spend time with MacKenzie. I think that’s important.”
“But not the main reason you’re here.”
