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“Alright then, we've got some paperwork to get through,” Tom said, sliding a stack toward me.
“Great, let's—“ The ring of my phone cut me off, its shrill tone slicing through the room. I glanced at the screen—Dad—and my heart sank. I’d have to deal with this sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I excused myself to the lobby and answered.
“Hi Dad,” I managed, with feigned confidence.
“Rash, Eryn. That's what this is—another rash decision.” Dad's voice was stern, cutting through any pretense of pleasantries.
“Buying the farm is not rash, Dad. It's a calculated risk. I’ve done my research,” I argued, though my voice lacked conviction. I had done some research, but it did all happen so quickly, I couldn’t exactly deny that.
“Calculated? You're a social media influencer, not a businesswoman.”
“I think I’ve done well for myself over the past few years.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Eryn. This is a different game altogether,” Dad’s tone was firm, unyielding. I could practically see the disapproving frown etched on his face, the disappointment in his eyes.
“I understand your concerns, but I believe in this project. It’s more than just a business venture—it’s my passion,” I defended, willing him to see beyond his preconceptions.
“Passion doesn’t mean shit. I’ve seen men talk of passion in business and you know where it leads? Bankruptcy. The only thing that matters is putting in the work, day after day, and honey, let’s face it, you’re more built for photoshoots than a real job.”
My stomach turned. I wanted to scream. “Well those photoshoots were hard work sometimes. And they allowed me to stop depending on your money.”
“Eryn, you don't have the first clue about running a real business,” he berated.
I squared my shoulders, willing my voice to steady. “I know more than you think, Dad. I negotiate brand deals every single day. I manage staff. I may not have what you consider to be a real business, but I’ve grown my brand into a multi-million dollar enterprise and the IRS certainly classifies it as a business every time they take their cut. This venture is happening—with or without your support.”
“Support,” he scoffed. “You think you can just waltz into that town and play pretend at being an entrepreneur? It's laughable.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said through gritted teeth, the words dripping with sarcasm I didn't bother to hide.
“Be reasonable, Eryn. Come back to California. This isn't you.”
But that was just it—it was me, more me than anything I'd ever done. Yet, I knew deep down that I'd never have his approval, never have him see me as capable or worthy. It wasn’t worth arguing about.
“Goodbye, Dad.” I hung up, my hand trembling slightly as I returned the phone to my purse. I took a deep breath. Then another. And then once I was sure the tears in my eyes had dried, I walked back into Tom’s office.
“Everything okay?” Tom asked, concern etched across his face.
“Couldn't be better,” I lied, plastering on a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. I turned my attention back to the papers, signing my name with a flourish. My dream would become a reality, and I'd do it on my own terms—no matter who stood in my way.
* * *
The next day, I’d gotten permission to go take measurements of the farmhouse. I wouldn’t close on the property for another two weeks, which was faster than I’d expected. But I wanted to get started with as much as possible.
First up, was making sure the structure was safe. Then, making it pretty. Enzo ensured me if I didn’t mind paying a pretty penny, he could have it ready by mid-fall but I wasn’t holding my breath. And I didn’t think that bleeding money was the wisest way to go.
The heavy thud of boots on the porch announced his arrival before I even saw him. Gray Anderson, with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm, barged into my space. I hadn’t seen him since his tongue was down my throat.
“Mornin’,” he drawled, his voice rough as gravel and twice as irritating. “Heard you got your eyes set on a business license.”
“You really have your ear to the ground, don’t you?”
He eyed me, as if he was surprised I knew how to work a tape measure. That irritated me all the more.
I straightened up, tucking my ever-present stray lock of hair behind my ear. My heart kicked up a notch at the sight of him, tall and foreboding in his usual uniform of jeans and a button-down shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles underneath. Why did he have to look like every wild west fantasy I never knew I had?
“I like to know what’s goin’ on in my town. And I figured we should have this conversation sooner than later.”
“Your town? Seems a lot of great folks live here. And every single one I’ve spoken with has been nothing but kind and excited for me. Except you. I want to know why that is.”
