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A year after I opened the goat farm, Big Hart Boutique became a goat milk wholesaler, and Harper has spent countless hours perfecting soaps, lotions, creams, and other beauty products. She’s been so successful that it’s now her full-time job. Even though she sells her products at the family’s storefront, the majority of her sales come from online customers.
Hours pass, and when I realize it’s nearly three in the afternoon, I text Harper again to make sure she hasn’t murdered anyone yet.
Ethan: I’m proud of you for sticking it out.
Harper: Thank you. Only one more presentation, then I’m going to my room and hiding out until we leave.
Ethan: What time will you be home?
Harper: Probably around three. Mom wants to eat breakfast before we go.
Ethan: Sounds good. So I’ll see you tomorrow night?
Harper: Come hell or high water.
Ethan: That’s what I like to hear. If you’re bored later, text me!
Harper: I will :)
I finish up some last-minute things before calling it a day. The only person on my mind as I head home is Harper. Though we’re both single, we’re also content with how things are between us. She’s the only woman I’ve ever really loved, though I’m too stubborn to admit it to her or make a move. The timing still isn’t right, though I’m not sure it’ll ever be.
She’s busy building her boutique’s online empire, and I’m expanding the goat operation the best I can. We’re both focusing on work and spending time together when we can. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about things changing between us. I’m still holding out hope that one day she’ll be mine.
Chapter Two
HARPER
After I text Ethan, I feel better. Knowing there’s only one presentation left and I’ll be home tomorrow has calmed me down. I’ve learned a few new things today and feel inspired to get back to work, but being here hasn’t been rainbows and sunshine. When I joined the Texas Small Business Association, founded to help local small businesses, I was so excited. I’ve made connections I wouldn’t have otherwise and gained a new perspective on profit margins and losses.
While I enjoy going most of the time, sometimes I don’t. Especially when I have to be around and talk to my main competitor in the goat soap business—Shayla Kenzington. Her mother Charlene is the president of TSBA, and it’s why Shayla thinks she’s the queen bee know-it-all. Charlene is just as uppity and full of herself. Basically, the fruit didn’t fall too far from the tree.
Every quarter, the association hosts a large conference with industry leaders to help its members gain insight into strategic marketing and growing their customer base. It’s a huge deal since the most successful business owners always attend, and the speakers are typically brilliant. Since we’re allowed to bring a guest, I invited my mom this time. She enjoys it almost more than me, but since she’s usually working at the boutique on the weekends, she hasn’t joined me in a while. But this weekend, Hadleigh is covering for her since she’s not scheduled at the hospital.
The five-hour drive wasn’t bad and went by fast since I had someone to talk to this time. We discussed introducing new products and expanding the boutique even further. It was a productive chat.
After the last speaker makes her closing remarks and we’re dismissed, Mom and I stand. Right now, I need a gigantic cup of coffee because my eyes feel like they’ve settled in the back of my head. I honestly don’t know why they asked Jackie Tillerman to discuss growing your social media presence because she bought most of her followers. Regardless of that fact, she still acted like an expert. Everything she said went in one ear and out the other because I know she used several shady tactics to grow her T-shirt business.
I’d rather have fewer real, genuine followers and keep my reputation.
Once we’re in the hallway, Mom and I find our way to the coffee bar. Even though it’s the middle of June, they’ve kept it fifty degrees in the conference rooms, so the hot liquid warms me.
“Oh hey, Harper. Almost didn’t recognize you in that dress,” Shayla says as her mother follows.
I force a polite smile, though I really want to punch her in the face. “Hey! How are you?”
She flips her platinum blond hair, purposely flashing the gigantic engagement ring her boyfriend put on her finger a few weeks ago. I saw it on Facebook but ignored the post like it didn’t happen. Now, she’s testing me, seeing if I’ll mention it, but I don’t take the bait. I couldn’t care less about her life. Her only goal is to sell her fake filtered lifestyle to her followers with a perfectly presented aesthetic. She’s the definition of toxic positivity, but I don’t buy any of it for a second.
