Page 32 of A Bittersweet Summer

Ten

Wes

“Lennon’s having a grand opening for her new Bed and Breakfast later today.”

Cass sits at the table in the office, the old wood creaking when she shifts slightly. Her lunch, an assortment of containers offruit, a sleeve of crackers, and the entire package of deli meat from the store, sits sprawled out in front of her.

When she wraps her lips around the straw of her water bottle, I look away and busy myself with gathering a few syringes to take down to the breeding barn.

She spends an awful lot of time finding ways to fill the silence. It’s a nice change of pace from the quiet of the farm that has existed since I took over. But liking Cassidy’s voice and constant conversation is one thing—watching her mouth touch a straw and imagining I turned into the water bottle is another thing entirely.

I am the picture of restraint.

After our time at the pond, I’d gotten a text while Cass had been changing. Apparently, I’d had an appointment with a potential client interested in boarding. Grady had come up with some excuse and done an okay job, but they wanted a follow-up meeting when I recovered from the flu.

I’d taken one look at that text and realized my mistake. With the laundry list of tasks that need to be completed around Miller Run, I certainly don’t need a distraction.

No matter how enjoyable.

“Do you need to leave early?” I ask, secretly hoping the answer is no. A buyer is coming to look at one of the yearlings, and I could really use someone responsible to make sure the barn looks well-kept.

Whenever Cassidy has extra time, I’ve noticed subtle changes. The office looks freshly swept, the tack is newly cleaned, coffee mugs are cleaned and put away.

It’s like wherever she goes, she adds a little of that sunshine. It’s brighter with her around.

Last week, she ensured a fresh mason jar of hand-picked wildflowers made it to the table, which she has now decimatedwith her haphazardly packed snacks that simply do not equal a lunch.

She always cleans up, though. Cassidy is tidy, thoughtful, and seems to enjoy people of all kinds—I’m sure the client will appreciate that.

I just have to utilize that quality and chalk it up to asolid and capable employee.

Again, no distractions.

That being said, the breeding barn at the base of the hill is my humbling structure. While it serves its purpose, it doesn’t boast of the same riches as a lot of other farms have. The horse racing was always my mom’s thing, and when I took things over, I didn’t have it in me to give it up.

It earns us some money, that’s for sure, but it is also an added expense.

Luckily, we’ve had a few horses do well over the years—extremely well. And that, in and of itself, is enough to keep that side of the business going.

Plus, the young kids love seeing the babies.

I rub my eyes, sleep begging me to return to bed after one of the mares dropped her foal last night. Thankfully, Walton had it in him to come help, but that also means guilt ate at me for needing the help to begin with, and gave him the day off. He’s slowing down with age and certainly needs the rest. Walton would have been my key to getting the barn in tip-top shape.

Cass is carving out a place for herself here. I’ve noticed the workload easing.

“No,” Cass says, “I was just letting you know because… well, I don’t actually know why.” I can feel her soft chuckle smoothing out the tension in my muscles. Keeping my back turned, I listen as she gathers the loose packaging and leftover crackers.

“I guess I just wanted an excuse to talk about what I made,” she admits. “Which is somewhat childish, considering this isLennon’sthing. She’s planned it for months. It’s a big grand opening, and I’ll be there before guests arrive to help set up. Her bed and breakfast looks great, and the event seemed to gain traction on social media. I’ve been posting for weeks to help, though I’m not sure it helped.”

The corner of my mouth turns up at that. I really do like it when she talks. I like it a lot. In fact, I’ve started bending rules and crossing boundaries because I like hearing her voice so damn much.

It’s the whole reason I took her swimming last week. Not to mention the leg up, in which I couldn’t keep my hands off her.

I really don’t need the complication. Especially after I watched firsthand how my parents’ running a business together ended up. I don’t need to be thinking about a woman who works on the farm I own, and I definitely didn’t need to be ogling her pink lips. It’s all very messy.

Cass continues. “I gave my brother, Gus, some crocheted vines a few weeks ago. He hated them, but I think it’s because he wants me to make a blanket instead. They just take so long.” When I turn to face her, she twists the end of what remains of her sleeve of crackers.

“You can just say Gus,” I comment. “I haven’t forgotten your brother’s name.”