“I don’t. I haven’t spent a penny of it. I-I—”couldn’t. It’s what I want to say, but instead, I stick with “I haven’t.”
His eyes haven’t left me, but he doesn’t respond.
“I was saving it for a rainy day,” I urge. “And this is the rainiest.”
His lips tug, deepening his scowl. “I can’t accept that.”
“Yes, you can. Don’t be a stubborn, grumpy cowboy about this.” I palm the sharp line of his whiskery jaw and guide his gaze to mine. “You need to take it, Hank. This farm is everything you love. I love it too.” I stare up into his eyes, praying he hears the truth in my words. “You can’t lose it.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.
Denying him the chance to refuse, I drop my hand and tangle my fingers with his. “Please. Let me help you.”
He chuckles, some of the light coming back into his eyes. “What about the tree?”
“Fuck the tree.”
He laughs. “Now who’s the scrooge?”
“C’mon.” I tug on his arm. “The bank’s open today, isn’t it? Tomorrow it’ll be too late.” I pucker out my bottom lip. “It’s our farm and we’re going to save it.”
His hands fall to my hips. A ragged breath shakes his chest. He kisses me, relief on his handsome face. “Thank you.”
My heart surges. I am alight with hunger and love and lust.
He kisses me again, squeezes my arm. “I’ll call Pops.” He steps back, patting his back pocket for his cell phone, then hustles for the kitchen.
Zelda looks at me likeyou’re screwed now
I bite my lip, widening my eyes at her. “Don’t I know it.”
Our farm. She called itour farm.
That thought wiggled its way through my head as Bellamy marched up to the bank and demanded to speak to someone. As she pulled out her purse and paid off our back taxes in their entirety.
Talk about a Christmas fucking miracle.
The merry jingle of bells follows us as we exit the bank. At the bottom of the steps out front, she stops and looks up at me. “There.” She smiles. “Problem solved.”
I grasp her hand and tangle our fingers. “Think that’s the understatement of the century, sugar.” In a single hour, she solved everything.
It makes my chest tight and my eyes burn. This glimpse of the determined, clever, driven woman I love. She saved the farm. There’s no way I can ever repay her, but damn if I won’t try.
“Thank you, Bluebell.” I clear the emotion from my throat. “You don’t know how much it means.”
She hits me with that smile that goes straight to my heart. “No. I think I do.”
There on the sidewalk, she launches into a little spin, laughing. I lift my arm, twirling, then pulling her into me.
“Blue Mountain Farm is saved.” She cocks a brow. “In the nick of time too. No thanks to you, you mean ole secret-keeper.”
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. “This is like the squirrel. You got your way, and it tore up my shop, not to mention that damn saddle.”
She bats her eyes. “I can’t help it that I’m very, very persuasive.”
“Try stubborn.” The words leave me with a grumble, but I’m smiling.
“You wanna take a stroll?” I nod down the block, signaling to where garland and bows line Main Street. “For old times’ sake?”
