Demanding All Of You

by Ali Parker

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what my future holds, but I’m not quite ready to burn them or give them away.”

  “You mean you might go back to New York?” she asked, stopping to look at me.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I really don’t know. I came here not knowing what to expect. I want to believe I can make this work, but I can’t say that with any real certainty. I’m giving myself six months to make it or break it.”

  “Six months?” she repeated, an eyebrow raised as her arms folded across her chest. “Then what?”

  “Then I decide if this life is what I want. It isn’t just me. I have to think about Oliver. Things are exciting for him right now because it’s new and different, but I grew up here. There are very limited opportunities. I know you aren’t fond of the city, but we had museums, parks, and there was always something to do. Something to expand the mind a little.”

  She slowly nodded. “And you think you and your son are too good for rural Montana with no museums to speak of? No culture?”

  “I’m not saying we’re too good for Montana. I’m saying I want my son to be happy and to get as much out of life as he can.”

  “And in six months if you decide you don’t like it here, you pick up and move back to New York? Do you still have a job and home back there?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “No, but my job wasn’t happy to see me go and agreed to give me the six months I needed to make a decision. They have an interim editor running things. If I stay here, the guy gets the job. If I go back, he’ll move to another department.”

  “So, you have one foot out the door. This farm is going to require your full commitment. It might not have a great harvest in the fall. I don’t know if you remember much, but farming is a crapshoot. Your yields are dependent on the weather and good luck. If you throw in the towel after one shitty crop, you’re not meant for this life.”

  “I know that and you’re right, it’s all based on luck and timing. I might not be cut out for this.”

  She sighed. “I was with your grandfather up until the very end,” she said in a quiet voice. She was looking at her feet before she looked up and met my eyes. “Oliver made me promise to make sure the farm was in good shape. He didn’t want it to be auctioned off, bit by bit and all his hard work dismantled. He gave his life to this place.”

  I nodded. “I know and I won’t let that happen. I’m not saying I’ll sell the farm. I’m saying I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the guy running the show. I won’t let him down. I won’t let the auctioneer come in here and sell off every piece of equipment and split the land up for developing. It will remain in the family.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Okay. I guess that’s all I can hope for. It’s out of my hands.”

  “Thank you for being there for him,” I told her. “If I would have known, I would have come out.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It isn’t fine. I’m sure he appreciated it, whether he would say it or not. I know—knew him very well. He would have wanted to go out on his own terms. I’m glad he got to call all the shots, but I’m also glad there was someone there.”

  “I was happy to be there for him. I wish I could have done more.”

  I blew out a breath, pushing away the sadness that fell over me thinking about him being gone. “All right,” I said, clapping my hands together. “You’ve got me for the next six hours. Work me.”

  She chuckled. “You’ve only got me for about two hours today.”

  “What? Really?”

  “I’ve got a meeting with a potential client tomorrow and need to do a little research before the meeting.”

  It surprised me to know she was already looking for a job. “You’re leaving me already?”

  “It isn’t already. I’ve been here for months. Things are good here. It’s up to you to keep everything running.”

  “But I just got here,” I protested, trying not to whine, but that was exactly what I wanted to do.

  “I didn’t. I’ve been here. I did my job. I don’t usually stay at one farm for more than a month or two. I’ve stuck around here because, well, you know why. I’ve slacked off on my other work. Oliver wasn’t my only client.”

  “I see. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize.”

  “It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “We need to make the most of the time I am here. If I do take the job, I’ll be working a lot of hours and won’t be able to make it out here. I can try and get back to check on things, but it will all be on you.”

  “No pressure,” I said with a laugh. “The fate of the world rests on your shoulders, but it will be okay.”

  “I don’t think the world depends on this. You’ll do fine.”

  “Thanks. I guess I should wish you luck.”

  She winked. “I don’t need luck. I’m damn good at what I do.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  I was going to miss seeing her around. I was especially going to miss her knowledge. The thought of just me trying to run the place was daunting. I was definitely going to look into hiring someone. I wasn’t confident I could do it all on my own.

  I listened, paying attention to every word she said as we walked around the farm. “What about soybean crops?” I asked her.

  “What about them?”

  “I’ve heard that some farms are getting out of the wheat business and moving into soybean and canola. Is that something that can be done here?”

  She looked at me with a curious look on her face. “Why would you want to do that? Look around. The wheat is growing great.”

  I shrugged. “Because it’s so damn fickle. One bad year can ruin a farm.”

  She smiled. “You have to have a little faith. Part of farming is the unknown. It’s the game. Sometimes you win big and other times you barely scrape by. It’s why people pay me to get their farms in order. My job is to make sure a farm can get by, even if there’s been a bad year. It’s about managing every dime and getting the most value out of every penny spent and every minute worked.”

  I grinned. “I get it, but I guess I like to be a little more certain.”

  In the back of my mind, I realized I was worrying over nothing. My grandfather’s rainy-day fund would carry the farm for the next hundred years. It was hard to change my way of thinking. I had been brought up to believe every harvest season was a make or break, do or die situation. My grandfather had instilled that in me.

  “Farmers have to have faith. Certainty is not a part of farming. If you need hard and fast guarantees, I will tell you right now, this isn’t the life for you. There’s no point in you spending six months here because it isn’t going to change anything.”

  She wasn’t being rude. She was direct. “I appreciate your candor but I’m not about to quit and run away with my tail between my legs just yet. Six months. I’m giving this a full six months. I will work my ass off and put all I have into making it work during that time.”

  “Good. That’s all you can do.”

  I nodded but said nothing more. There was plenty more I could do.

  Chapter 16

  Alex

  I checked the address again to make sure I had it right. The perfectly straight vinyl fencing lining on either side of the paved driveway didn’t seem right. I had worked on countless farms and I couldn’t remember any of them having paved driveways. Few had expensive vinyl fencing. The fencing was pretty, but it wasn’t practical.

  I added it to my list of things that could be cut back on to get the farm in the black. Spending thousands of dollars for pretty and easy was not the way a farm operated. I parked my truck alongside a fleet of brand-new Chevy Silverado trucks. Each of them had small logos on the door. I groaned, shaking my head at the waste of money. Farm trucks weren’t meant to be pretty.

  I jumped out of my own truck, covered with a thick layer of dust that clung to the mud clinging to the sides. My truck wasn’t old, but it wasn’t new. It had seen some work, like
a truck was meant to do. I looked up at the massive house with what appeared to be a fresh coat of pristine white paint. There were black shutters on either side of all the windows with pretty flowers in mounted window boxes.

  The house was beautiful and looked like something out of a magazine. Again, another expense that could have probably been spared. The house wasn’t my concern, the farm was. From what information I had gathered, it was a small dairy operation specializing in organic products. Organic was trendy and could fetch top dollar, assuming it was done right and certified.

  “Good morning,” I heard a male voice.

  I turned to see a man walking toward me wearing a pair of what looked like new blue jeans, a dress shirt tucked in, and a watch on his wrist that was so big and shiny it looked like it weighed ten pounds.

  “Good morning,” I greeted. “I’m Alex Hammel.”

  He grinned, showing off a perfect set of pearly whites. His smile was practiced and not at all natural. “It’s nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Garrett Longfellow.”

  He was the owner. I smiled and nodded. “Nice place.”

  “Thank you,” he said, dropping my hand. “It needed a lot of work when I got it. I tore down that hovel they were calling a house and built new. Same with the barns. All new. I’ve got top of the line equipment out there as well.”

  I nodded, keeping a forced smile on my face. I didn’t like the guy. He came off as arrogant and pompous and I didn’t like him one bit. “Nice,” I said, trying my best not to be rude.

  “Would you like to look around?” he offered.

  “Sure,” I answered, noticing the paved path to the barn. I had to keep from rolling my eyes. It was like he was afraid of getting dirt on his shoes. I wondered what the floor of the barn would be—marble?

  It wasn’t marble, but it was the cleanest, shiniest barn I had ever seen. I listened as he bragged about his farm and how successful it was. I couldn’t understand why I was there. He introduced me to some of the employees working for him. They all seemed very capable to me. It was unlike any other initial tour I had been on.

  Usually, I walked onto a farm that was barely getting by with things in disarray. I was the fixer. I didn’t understand what I was supposed to fix on Garrett’s farm.

  “What do you think?” he asked as we made our way back to the parking area.

  “I think you have the farm well in hand. I don’t think you need me at all.”

  He grinned, forcing a laugh that reminded me of a used car salesman. “I need you to come on as my manager.”

  “I’m a fixer. I’m not a manager.”

  “Look around,” he said, gesturing to his pretty farm and all the perfect buildings and manicured landscaping. “This place practically runs itself. You would have a crew working for you. You wouldn’t need to get dirty or do any of the heavy lifting yourself. I need someone with your knowhow to keep them in line. I need someone that understands the business and how to keep making me money.”

  I frowned. “That’s not what I do. I don’t want to work for you on a long-term basis. I’m not a manager.”

  I didn’t like the guy. I didn’t like his manicured nails and his slick attitude. He was used to buying everything he wanted. I was willing to bet he had never worked a full day in his life.

  “I’ll double what you normally make fixing farms,” he said.

  I scoffed, assuming he was joking. “Funny.”

  He was very serious. “I’m not kidding. I will double your salary.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “No thank you. I don’t work for anyone.”

  “Sweetie, I have the kind of money that people want. I’m willing to pay good money for what I want. I want you. I want you running my farm. You can’t walk away from the kind of money I’m willing to pay you.”

  I offered him a viper smile. “I’m not your sweetie and I can walk away from anything I don’t like.”

  “Triple. I’ll triple your usual fee. I’ll throw in a company truck and two weeks paid vacation.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Excuse me?” he snapped, obviously not appreciating my rejection. “People don’t walk away from job offers like this.”

  “I do. This isn’t the job for me. This isn’t what I do. I’m sure you’ll find a very good farm manager.”

  I stepped away, ready to leave. It had been a huge waste of time. The guy hadn’t mentioned he wanted me to work for him. He’d simply said he was interested in hiring me.

  “I don’t think you understand,” he said, reaching out to touch my hand.

  I yanked my arm away, giving him a hard look. “Understand what exactly?”

  “I’m offering you the job of a lifetime. I can buy you a hundred times over.”

  I smirked. “You can’t buy me. I’m not for sale.”

  “Honey, everyone is for sale. It’s all about finding the right price. Throw out a number and we’ll see if we can meet somewhere in the middle.”

  “No,” I said and walked toward my truck.

  “This isn’t over,” he called after me. “When I want something, I get it.”

  “I’m not a something, and you will not be getting me,” I shot back.

  “We’ll see about that. No one walks away from me.”

  “Bye,” I called out in a singsong voice and opened the door of my truck.

  “You’ll regret this,” he angrily shouted.

  I slammed the truck door and turned over the engine. I looked through my windshield to find him standing in front of my truck. The man was an idiot. I knew exactly what was behind me. I threw the truck into reverse, punched the gas, and screeched to a halt just before I crashed through his pretty fence. I tapped the gas and bumped the fence for good measure before putting the truck into drive and hitting the gas once again.

  I sped down the paved driveway, cursing myself for letting my temper get away from me. “Asshole. What a dick. Gah!”

  I slapped my palm against the steering wheel. I hated people like him. I hated anyone who thought they were better than others simply because of the size of their bank accounts. I didn’t know the man from Adam, had never heard of him before he reached out, and I knew just about every farmer within a hundred-mile radius. I had worked on most of the farms in the general vicinity at one point in my life, either as a fixer or a hand in my early years.

  I would never work for a man like that. Never. Not in a million years and not for a million dollars. I wasn’t wealthy and I would never have what he had, and I didn’t care. I didn’t want to have anything to do with someone like him.

  My blood boiled as I hit the highway heading back toward town. I couldn’t believe I had actually thought the man was serious about me working with him—not for him. There was a big difference. I supposed I shouldn’t have been all that surprised. He was the kind of man that paid people to do everything for him.

  “Asshole,” I seethed.

  He would probably call the cops on me for hitting his fence. He’d make a big deal out of it just to make my life miserable or to try and blackmail me into working for him. I wasn’t destitute. I would pay the restitution and get a record before I ever worked for him. I’d go to fucking jail before I made him a penny.

  I thought about going out to Oliver’s—no, Damion’s farm—but quickly dismissed the idea. I was in no mood to deal with anyone. I needed to find another job. I knew my time at the Whittle farm was coming to an end. I liked having a job lined up. It gave me a reason to leave. I had a feeling it would be very easy for me to stay at the Whittle farm just because I liked it.

  I didn’t want the grass growing under my feet. I had to keep moving. I didn’t want to develop ties to anyone. I got twitchy when I started to feel a connection to someone. Twitchy and uncomfortable. Sadie was the only constant in my life. I wanted to keep it that way.

  I parked my truck and went inside my house. I opened the blinds and cracked a window to let in some fresh air. A day off wouldn’t kill me. It would make me antsy, but the ho
use could use a little TLC. I wasn’t great at housework. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good at it. I just didn’t care for it. I liked being outside. I liked the fresh air with the hint of dirt.

  I wasn’t domesticated. I doubted I ever would be. I didn’t know if that meant I was bound to be single for the rest of my days, but I didn’t see myself changing anytime soon. I needed to find a man that didn’t mind me being outside working the farm all day. I needed a man that didn’t mind my plainness and my unwillingness to be one of the girly girls.

  “Good luck,” I mumbled under my breath as I went about the business of sorting my laundry.

  I knew I could do the domestic things. I could and did keep a fairly clean house. I could cook and do laundry, but the trick was getting me to do it all the time. If there was anything else I could do, I would. It was probably why I never bothered trying to find a husband.

  I was saving myself the disappointment of being rejected.

  Chapter 17

  Damion

  It felt good to slowly start building a routine. I had dropped Oliver off at school and then went right back home to get started in the barn. It felt good to know what needed doing. I had gotten up early and taken the horses out to the pasture, feeding and watering them before taking Oliver to school. Now, it was time to clean out the stalls.

  I had just finished the first one when I heard Alex’s truck coming down the driveway. There was a little rush of excitement at the thought of seeing her. I knew I had no business getting excited about it, but I liked hanging out with her. It could have been the lack of adult interaction the last week. She was really the only adult I had spoken to since I quit my job. Oliver was a great kid, but he was five and not exactly a great conversationalist.

  “Two days in a row!” Alex said as she walked into the barn.

  I grinned. “I’m making it work.”

  She smiled at me. I took in the sight of her clean face, free of makeup. She looked young and beautiful and like she had stepped off the farm. She was the woman every country singer sang about in their love songs. She was the farmer’s daughter that all the cowboys wanted to hook up with.