Count On Me: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  “So, your father’s hoping to be a benefactor of smaller farms? That seems rather altruistic of him.”

  Careena threw her head back and laughed, the sound delicate, and yet practiced. Her hand pressed against her chest as her mirth slowed, and she once again pinned him with her dark eyes. “You would be right. He’s not trying to be altruistic, nor does he consider himself to be the patron saint of small farms and farmers.” Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his desk and said, “There’s really no mystery here, Scott. Giordano Farms owns land on either side of the Weston farm. It would be much more convenient for us to own the entire tract of land. My father tried for years to get Mr. Weston to sell, but he wouldn’t. Now that he’s gone, I cannot imagine that Ms. Weston is having an easy time of it. We are more than willing to pay an excellent price for her land. With that money, she would be able to buy a house in town or in the county, wherever she wanted to live.”

  Cocking his head to the side, he said, “Farming is all that Ms. Weston has ever done. If she no longer has the farm, what do you suggest she do?”

  Careena shifted back in her chair, a confused look on her face. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but she would be free to do anything. There are many restaurants that are popping up in Baytown that she could work in. I’m sure there are stores that need seasonal sales help. I know many of the beach houses in The Dunes Resort need housekeepers. I would think a woman of her resources would have plenty of opportunities for employment.”

  Shocked at Careena’s easy dismissal of Lizzie’s employment desires, he pressed, “May I be so impertinent as to ask what you would get out of this? I know you’re an accountant for your family’s farm, but you seemed particularly interested in meeting with me when I called you. I’m just curious to see if there’s something I’m missing.”

  Careena looked down at her hands, a slight sigh leaving her lips. From what Scott had observed, she maintained control over all her mannerisms, and he wondered if the sigh had slipped out unexpectedly.

  Lifting her head, she held his gaze. “Scott, I don’t expect you to understand this, but I’m going to do something very rare and give you my honest reasons. I’m the oldest child, and I have worked hard all my life. I was expected to go to college and earn a degree in something that would help the family business. Accounting was fascinating to me and my father was thrilled. I knew that I had a place with our business as soon as I graduated. My younger brother will soon graduate with a business degree specializing in agriculture, and he’ll join us as well. May I emphasize my younger brother. I am the oldest by several years, and yet, to my father, still seen as just a female. My father is ready to place my brother at the helm of Giordano Farms when it’s the right time. Not me. I still feel as though every day I have to prove myself.”

  Lifting her shoulders in a delicate shrugged. “There it is, plain and simple. No matter how old I am, I still seem to be trying to please my father. If I can get Ms. Weston to agree to sell Weston Farms, that will go a long way in raising me in my father’s eyes.”

  Scott continued to stare at the beautiful woman sitting across from him, and while her words may have been practiced, he believed they were true. She really wanted Weston Farms and hoped that would give her an edge over her brother as her father looked at who would be best to lead the company.

  Before he had a chance to speak, she leaned forward and reached into the slim, leather briefcase sitting at her feet. Pulling out a thin file, she placed it on his desk and flipped it open. Tapping on the top page, she said, “Please take a look at this. I think you’ll find the offer we are willing to make to be more than generous. It truly would set up Ms. Weston very well for the next phase of her life.”

  Promising to look over the offer, knowing he would never work to convince Lizzie to sell her farm, he stood and escorted Careena to his door. Opening it, he said, “Thank you for coming in today, Ms. Giordano. It was very nice to meet you.”

  Careena shook his hand, giving it a slight squeeze and holding it for longer than expected. Smiling up at him, she said, “It will be a pleasure working with you, Scott. I’m so thrilled that you will help convince Ms. Weston to sell her farm to us.” With her hands still in his, she leaned closer and said, “I believe this could be the start of a wonderful partnership.”

  With a final squeeze of his hand, she turned to walk down the hall. Something must have caught her eye because he watched as her gaze moved up and down before seeming dismissive. He watched as she left, his mind no longer on her, but wondering how he was going to deal with the overzealous woman who wanted Lizzie’s farm.

  Turning, he jolted as he saw Lizzie and Lia standing in the hall, Lia’s eyes large and round and Lizzie’s full of hurt. Realizing how the situation appeared, he threw up his hands and said, “Lizzie, it’s not what you think.”

  Her chest heaved and she blinked back tears, starting to walk past him toward the front door of the office. He reached out and snagged her shoulders, halting her steps. Trying to turn her toward him, he said, “I met her to see what their intentions were. I’m not working with her.”

  He felt her body quiver as she lifted her head and pinned him with a glare. “That’s not what it sounded like to me. She was quite clear as to what she thought your partnership was in relation to my farm!”

  “No, no, please listen—”

  “Mr. Redding, your next appointment is here,” Mrs. Markham interrupted, her gaze shooting between everyone in the hall.

  Twisting his head, he said, “Lia… can you take the meeting?”

  Before she could answer, Mrs. Markham said, “I’m sorry, but Ms. McFarlane, your next appointment is here as well.” Leaning closer, she continued, “Scott, your appointment is Mrs. Bailey… newly widowed and already in tears about the taxes.”

  Knowing he needed to see Mrs. Bailey, he looked back down at Lizzie and said, “I’ll be out at the farm just as soon as I can. Please, please, know that what you heard is not what you think is happening.”

  Lizzie wiped her tears with her hand, then squared her shoulders as she stepped backward out of his grip. Lifting her chin, she said, “Don’t bother. I was right when I said that I can only count on me.”

  He watched as she walked out the door, and all he wanted to do was run after her, begging her to listen. But before he could take a step, Mrs. Markham ushered the elderly Mrs. Bailey toward him, the widow already dabbing at her eyes and saying, “Oh, Mr. Redding, you have to help me. I don’t have any idea what Walter did when it came to our taxes.”

  Forcing a professionally pleasant expression on his face, he took Mrs. Bailey’s hand and led her into his office. Sighing heavily, he sat behind his desk and prayed that Lizzie would give him a chance to explain. Having her angry with him cut straight into his gut. Having her think that she could not count on him cut straight into his heart.

  21

  Lizzie stomped around the pasture, now in her work clothes, having almost ripped off her cute T-shirt in anger. Her hair was once again braided down her back and her feet in heavy work boots. She had skipped lunch, afraid if she tried to eat she might choke.

  The drive home had been very different from the drive into town. No music. No singing. No happy expectations of a lunch out with Scott. Instead, she had turned the events in the office over and over in her head.

  As her anger burned, she thought of the beautiful woman who had left Scott’s office and climbed into the Mercedes. The woman whose gaze raked over Lizzie, easily dismissing her as no competition even though she had no idea who Lizzie was. It was not the first time she had seen that before… women and men who looked to see if her nails were manicured, her hair was colored and highlighted, or her clothes were fashionable. And when they determined they were not, the rejection came.

  Lizzie could have cared less what the woman from Giordano Farms thought about her, except her hand had been in Scott’s when she had so easily dismissed Lizzie. And hearing the woman say that Scott was going to help
with the acquisition of Weston Farms rocked her, completely throwing her off balance.

  The animals scattered away from Lizzie as she stomped around as she finished her chores. As she continued to turn the events over in her mind, she knew in her heart that Scott would not betray her. That, she was sure of. But what if he thinks that he’s helping me by encouraging me to get rid of the farm?

  Dropping her chin to her chest, the heavy weight that had been on her after Papa Beau died came back in full force.

  Desperately needing something to take her mind off her troubles, she looked up at Caesar and said, “It’s time, buddy. Let’s get you shorn.”

  She knew it would be difficult to shear the large animal by herself, but she had watched others do it and had a plan. Leading him into the barn, she tied a rope around him and secured it to one of the stalls inside. Taking the large, clean plastic sheet that she had purchased just for the fleece, she lay it on the straw.

  Caesar eyed her warily as she finished her preparations. Once he was securely fastened, she covered his face with a special bag that would keep him from being able to nip at her. He shook his head slightly, but she was gentle and talked to him the whole time. Pushing his body closer to the gate, she had to use her weight to keep him in place and wondered if her slight stature would be enough to finish the job. So far, Caesar was cooperating, although she imagined he was not pleased.

  Taking the heavy, electric shears, she started at the back of his upper neck and began shearing downward. The long, heavy fleece fell away from Caesar’s neck in a giant clump. Making a pass as close to his neck as she thought she could, the fleece rolled away, exposing more, and she was able to make several passes to obtain all the fleece in a section.

  Grabbing handfuls, she tossed it to the tarp at her side. As soon as she finished the neck, her arms already ached, but she had to laugh at the skinny neck now exposed. “Caesar, I knew you were bushy, but now I can see you really were all fleece!”

  She praised him for cooperating as she stopped her shears, grabbing the oil. Making sure to keep the blades lubricated, she turned back to her task. Already sweating in the hot barn, it dawned on her that with the heavy fleece gone Caesar would be much more comfortable.

  Now it was time to begin shearing his body, this fleece being much thicker and heavier than what was on his neck. Making long, even passes with the shears, the fleece once again rolled together, and she grabbed handfuls with her free hand to toss it to the tarp, using her body to keep Caesar as still as possible.

  Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts, and she wanted to wipe her brow but did not have a free hand. She had planned on shearing all three alpacas today, but it became apparent that would not happen.

  “Why the hell are you doing this by yourself?”

  The familiar, deep voice sounded to her side, and she jumped. Swinging her head around, she pinned Scott with a glare. “Jesus, Scott! I could’ve cut Caesar by you scaring me like that!”

  She turned off the shears and continued to glare toward him. It did not miss her notice that he was no longer dressed for the office but had on jeans, boots, and a T-shirt that showed off more of his muscles than she wanted to focus on. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m sorry I scared you. But I told you that I was coming over, and I don’t break my promises.”

  Her lips pinched tightly together as she continued to glare. “We don’t have time for this now. I’m busy.”

  “And I’m helping.”

  Needing to focus on the job at hand and keep Caesar safe and comfortable, she turned back toward her alpaca. Scott stepped closer, and with his much larger body was able to hold Caesar in place as she continued to run the shears over his back, sides, and belly. By now, the fleece was clumped together, rolling backward over Caesar’s flanks.

  Her arm began to ache from the weight of the shears and the time it was taking. Concentrating to make sure she was doing the best job she could, she almost did not hear Scott speak.

  “Are you okay? Do you need me to take over?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to snap at him, but she knew he was simply trying to help. Shaking her head, she replied softly, “No, thank you. This is the first time I’ve ever done this, but I’ve watched others.”

  “Is it always done this way?”

  Shaking her head as she squatted to get under Caesar’s belly and around his legs, she said, “No, many farms have a way to tie the animal in a lying position. That makes it much easier.”

  “We’ll look into that for here,” he stated in a soft voice as he rubbed Caesar’s head. “We can get whatever you need to make this easier on both you and the animals.”

  Scott’s words seared right through her. It was not lost on her that if he had plans to encourage her to sell her farm, he would not be making future plans. The weight on her chest lifted ever-so-slightly.

  Lizzie did not look up at Scott but continued to carefully run the shears over Caesar’s body, rolling the fleece into great bundles before tossing it to the tarp. Now that his neck and body were shorn, she needed to focus on his legs. Caesar quivered, and she hesitated, wondering if he was going to buck. Scott anticipated the animal’s movements, and, using his body against Caesar, pressed him gently but firmly against the wall.

  “I’m trying to get this done, but I’m afraid to go too fast,” she admitted.

  “Don’t worry about it. You just do what you need to do, and I’ll try to keep Caesar still.”

  Mumbling her thanks, she knelt on the ground as she carefully maneuvered the shears over the legs. Twisting, she looked at the massive mountain of fleece that was now collected on the tarp and could not help but grin. Looking up, she caught Scott’s eyes on hers, the same sparkle of excitement staring back.

  “It’s hard to imagine that that’s about seven hundred dollars sitting right there, isn’t it?” she whispered.

  His grin widened into a smile as he nodded. “I’m amazed, babe. Absolutely amazed.”

  Standing, she looked over Caesar and noticed where some small patches had been missed. Going back over with the shears, she tried to even him out as much as possible. “I know it looks a little messy, but as soon as it starts growing, he’ll look fluffy again.”

  Moving to Caesar’s head, she said, “If you can hold him a little bit longer, I’m going to trim his head just a little bit. I won’t do it as much as some people might because I’m afraid.”

  Scott nodded silently while she got a smaller set of shears. Moving ever-so-gently, she sheared around his ears and throat, then over his forehead and cheeks.

  Standing back, she heaved a great sigh of relief. “I think that’s it.”

  Scott efficiently untied Caesar, talking to him in a soothing voice. Letting him go, Caesar bolted from the barn into his pasture, and Lizzie and Scott followed, standing by the fence, watching the newly-shorn alpaca frolic. With their arms propped on top of the gate leading to the pasture, they stood side-by-side, close but not touching. They remained quiet for several minutes, staring at Caesar looking rather ridiculous as a skinny alpaca being sniffed by Cleopatra and Mark Antony.

  Exhaustion pulled at the core of her being. Her arms, shoulders, and back were tired from the exertion. Her head ached from thinking too much about the farm. And her heart hurt at the idea of losing Scott in any way.

  She jolted as he bumped her shoulder and turned to see him peering carefully at her. She shoulder bumped him as well, adding a little extra umph for good measure.

  He chuckled and turned to face her fully. “I hope with everything that you hold dearly you believe that I would never do anything to harm your dreams. I would never betray Beau or you that way.”

  Her chest deflated as her sigh left her body, and she nodded. “I know. I believe you.” Looking up, she said, “I’m ready to listen if you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

  “How about we go inside, get washed off, get comfortable, and I’ll tell you everything?”

  Sh
e could not argue with his suggestion but simply nodded and turned to walk toward the house. He fell in step beside her, and her fingers itched to reach out and link with his. But the emotions of the day still crashed over her, and she simply remained by his side as they walked into the kitchen.

  As had become their habit when they came in from working, Scott walked directly to the downstairs bathroom, pulling his shirt off as he went. Trying to ignore the sight of his muscular torso, she hurried past him and ran up the stairs. A quick wash, a change of clothes, and brushing and re-braiding her hair was all she took the time to do.

  Downstairs, she found that he had poured tall glasses of iced tea, and she reached for one eagerly. Quenching her thirst, she set the almost empty glass down, and he refilled it.

  “Shearing is hard work,” she began. “Thank you for your help. I think I could’ve done it by myself, but it certainly made it a lot easier with you there as well.”

  Standing on the other side of the counter, he leaned forward, his weight resting on his forearms planted near their glasses. Holding her gaze, he replied, “Lizzie, I have no doubt that you would have been able to accomplish the shearing all by yourself. But I’m grateful you let me help. I’m also grateful that you’re letting me be part of your world.”

  Uncertain what to say to that, she was glad when he took the initiative and picked up their glasses, saying, “Let’s get comfortable and then we can talk.”

  She followed him into the living room, and it dawned on her that she was completely comfortable with him in her house and her life.

  And utterly terrified of the day when he might leave.