Page 65 of Saltwater Cowboy

He shot me a knowing smirk. “You’ll survive.”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I get dirt under my nails, I’m adding this to my growing list of grievances against you.”

Wells smirked, handing me a woven basket. “Now, start with the tomatoes. Just gently twist them off the vine.”

I crouched down and reached for a tomato, hesitating. “What if I break the whole plant?”

“Then we’ll know farming isn’t your calling.”

I shot him a look before carefully twisting the tomato free. It popped off easily, and I held it up like I’d just won a prize. “Look at that. Natural-born farmer.”

Wells snorted. “One tomato doesn’t make you a farmer. Let’s see if you can handle the squash.”

“Is that a euphemism, Calloway?”

He ignored my question and led me over to a row of bright yellow squash nestled under thick green leaves. I crouched again, pushing the leaves aside. “Which ones do I pick?”

“The firm ones. Give ’em a little squeeze.”

I did, then wrinkled my nose. “This feels inappropriate.”

Wells let out a bark of laughter. “Just pick the damn squash, Rose.”

Rolling my eyes, I plucked a few, adding them to the basket. The sun beat down on my back, sweat gathering at my neckline, but strangely enough, I didn’t hate this. There was something satisfying about pulling vegetables straight from the earth, knowing they’d end up on our plates later.

“Alright, what’s next?” I asked, shifting the basket to my hip.

Wells assessed the rows. “Let’s grab some peppers.”

I followed him to another section, eyeing the bright red and green peppers hanging from their stems. “You sure you trust me with these?”

He gave me a lazy grin. “You’re doin’ alright so far.”

Something about his approval made my stomach flip, but I ignored it, focusing on plucking a pepper and dropping it into the basket of vegetables. After a few more, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Okay, I’ve officially reached my limit of farm work for the day.”

Wells glanced at the full basket. “Not bad for a city girl.”

“Not bad?” I scoffed. “I’d say I excelled.”

He smirked. “We’ll see how you do with dinner.”

I raised a brow. “Oh no. You’re cooking. I just harvested the ingredients. That was my contribution.”

“Mm,” he mused, picking up the basket. “We’ll see.”

I had a feeling I’d just walked into another one of Wells Calloway’s little challenges.

RAIN IS A GOOD THING

“I think I deserve tomorrow off,” Rose announced, settling into the rocking chair on the front porch, her so-called emotional support water bottle resting against her chest.

I leaned against the railing, arms crossed. “Is that so?”

She didn’t look at me, just kept her gaze fixed on the sprawling land. “Yes.”

She still made it clear she didn’t like me, but I was starting to think her walls weren’t as impenetrable as she wanted everyone to believe. Today had been a long one, and I had to admit, she put in the work. She was still a city girl, but when a garden snake slithered through the zucchini bed, she didn’t run screaming for the hills—just screamed like a banshee.

“That’s not happening,” I shot back. “I brought everything in. The vegetables just need to be washed before you prep them.”