Dirty Farmer (The Dirty Suburbs Book 6)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Chapter 2

  Jakob

  "You're fired."

  The pimply teenager in front of me trembles at my words. And for the life of me, I can't remember his name. He's the third delivery guy I've fired in as many weeks. You just can't find good workers in this business.

  "But I was only five minutes late!" he protests, trailing behind me like a lost puppy.

  "I have no time for tardiness," I say simply as I continue to load the milk bottles into wooden crates.

  I have customers relying on me. They need milk for their morning coffee and their kids’ breakfast cereal. They need their deliveries to be on time. So, I need my delivery guy to be on time. They all start out only five minutes late. Then, they’re ten minutes late. And before you know it, you've got workers strolling in an hour late, poking their head into your fridge and asking you about your plans for the weekend while chugging down your cold beer and eating your apple pie.

  Nope.

  I've got a zero tolerance policy for lateness.

  And for laziness.

  And for incompetence.

  Anybody who has a problem with the way I run this farm can take their excuses and their infirmities elsewhere.

  I'd rather do things myself, anyway. That's the only way to make sure they get done right.

  I stack two crates on top of each other and carry them out to my old Chevy truck, setting them down in the back and making sure that they’re snug so that they don’t break on the drive into town.

  The poor chump isn't done trying to reason with me. "But they were fixing a broken water main on Centennial. They wouldn’t let my mom drive through."

  So now, in addition to being late, he's gonna waste even more of my valuable daylight with his excuses? I don't have time for this. I have a long list of customers waiting for their milk. Plus, I have errands to run. Then, I have to come back here and clean out the pigpens and the horse stables before lunchtime if I have any hope of fertilizing the fields this afternoon. "Look kid, you’re late. You're fired."

  Realizing that he can’t change my mind, his jaw sets and his fists clench just as his eyes start to water. He's trying to be tough. But getting fired from your first job must suck.

  Whatever.

  He'll take this lesson with him throughout the rest of his life. Or not. I don't really care.

  "Fucking asshole," he grumbles as he slings his backpack over his shoulder and starts off toward the road.

  Well, that's an insult I've heard a time or two before. I don't sugar-coat shit. I'm a busy man and I learned a long time ago that emotions only slow you down. My grandmother, Mini, is always telling me that I need to be more patient and give people second chances. She says I'm closed off and need to let some people in.

  I don’t see the point in that. Every time I've ever gotten close to someone, they've tinkered with the knobs in my chest and caused me a world of hurt.

  Nah. I'm better off the way I am and I don’t care who dislikes it. Mini included.

  I smile at the thought of the old nag. She's my biggest weakness and she knows it. She and Pops saved me from a messy situation that could have set my life on an entirely different course. They took me in. My brother, Zayn, fucked off as soon as he turned 18 and he never really looked back. Pops died not long after. I was all Mini had left. So I plan on sticking by her side. But if she thinks she has a shot at controlling my life, that little old lady has another thing coming to her.

  She has too much idle time on her hands anyway. She spends it all worrying about me. She used to be out and about, gossiping and playing bingo at the community center and wrecking havoc all over town with her friends, Nancy and Delores. But her diabetes has been getting in the way over the past year or so. She's resorted to bugging me as a form of entertainment. Good thing I've got a clever new idea about how to fill her days.

  I stack the last of the milk crates in the bed of my truck and jump into the old vehicle, piloting it along the bumpy lane leading up to the main road.

  I pass my disgruntled former employee on the way and I briefly consider giving him a ride into town, but when our eyes meet, he glares and flips me off.

  Shrug.

  I turn my focus back to the road. Just on the horizon, the sun is rising, turning the sky a thousand shades of orange.

  It makes me smile. After a long dreadful winter, spring is dawning on Reyfield, Illinois. I just have to go into town, make these deliveries and run a few errands. When I'm done, it'll be just me, my beasts and my land.

  It's a great day to be a farmer.

  Chapter 3

  Lily

  That baby was up. All. Night.

  Now don't get me wrong – Sebastian is cute as fuck (in the day). But even unwelcome houseguests need sleep, too. Especially when they're 12 weeks pregnant and still recovering from being abruptly dumped by their douchey almost-fiancé.

  I don't know how Grace deals with the sleepless nights but I'm about to find out in approximately 28 weeks. My stomach coils at the idea.

  I'm having a baby. I'm having a baby.

  I'm not sure how many times I have to repeat it to myself before the idea finally sinks in. The thought streamed through my head all night (in between puking sessions) to the soundtrack of Sebastian’s wails. Here I am with a wallet full of frozen credit cards while bunking with a sister who, 24 hours ago, had never laid eyes on me. I have no money and no plan.

  Maybe showing up unannounced in Reyfield wasn't such a good idea.

  But what did I really have to lose? My unpaid internship at Hectic Fashion Blog was going nowhere. Plus, my high school sweetheart returned the engagement ring he bought me then demanded that I terminate my pregnancy.

  So, I couldn’t stay in Philadelphia. There was nothing there for me, either. I have no idea where I belong right now. Story of my life.

  Staring up at the ceiling of Grace’s guest bedroom gets boring after a few hours. When my hunger begins to outweigh my fatigue, I roll out of the squeaky bed and pad down the stairs into the kitchen. I can still hear Grace in the nursery singing lullabies to a fussy Sebastian.

  Poor thing. It's 6:15 in the morning, buddy. Time to give up.

  I haul open the fridge door and nearly everything on the well-packed shelves makes me want to hurl.

  Orange juice? Gag.

  Eggs? No thank you.

  Just the thought of eating a cup of strawberry yogurt causes morning sickness to bubble in my gut.

  I abandon the fridge and scan the selection of breakfast cereals on the counter. Muesli…Rice puffs…Wheat bran. Blah! I settle on the Fruit Loops (although lord knows I should be having the wheat bran. Why do pregnant women get so constipated?)

  I grab the biggest bowl I can find and take a seat at the table, scanning the Vogue website as I eat. Hmm...Looks like bra-tops are making a comeback this season. I glare down at my blossoming tummy. I guess that's a trend I won't be in on...

  I devour the cereal before grabbing a refill. And you know how it goes with these things — one bowl leads to another, leads to another. Before I know it, the box is empty and I'm all out of milk. Great.

  I hear bare feet slapping the stairs a moment before Grace appears down the hall with exhaustion on her face and Sebastian on her hip.

  My pulse beats just a little faster. I didn't exactly get a warm welcome from her when I showed up yesterday. Aside from the fact that she clearly has a lot going on in her life, I'm some stranger who just showed up on her front stoop ready to move in. She doesn't know what to make of me yet but I'm willing to bend over backwards to get her to like me.

  "Morning!" I chirp spritely, pasting a wide smile on my face.

  Grace jumps, yelping loudly. And now Sebastian's crying, startled by his mother's outburst. My sister tries to lull the baby.

  I feel even shittier now. "I'm sorry."

  Grace casts me a look that says she's trying to be patient. "No, it's okay. I'm so preoccupied I forgot you were here." She rubs the boy's head and bounce
s him lightly as he begins to settle down. She sets him in his highchair once his whimpering has stopped. "Did you sleep okay?"

  "Yes," I lie. "Thanks so much for letting me stay here. I won't be here long. Just a little while until I figure out my next move."

  She offers me a smile before she grabs a baby bowl from the cupboard. "Okay."

  An awkward silence immediately settles in the room as we both stare at each other, wondering what to say to each other next. Eventually, Grace gives me a tight smile and turns toward the counter. She scans the line of cereal boxes with confusion creasing her brow before she turns toward the table and locates the Fruit Loops package sitting in front of me.

  She forces a smile as she comes over and picks up the box. That smile quickly fades when she realizes that said box is completely empty. My heart freezes.

  "You finished the Fruit Loops?"

  I nod around my mouthful of cereal.

  "Sebastian's Fruit Loops?"

  I swallow, cringing from head to toe, my shoulders hunched all the way to my ears. "Sorry."

  This is the part where I'm supposed to be gracious and offer to run out to the store and replace the cereal. But as I said, wallet full of frozen credit cards.

  Grace's tight smile reappears on her lips. "It's fine. I needed to go to the grocery store anyway."

  She pulls Sebastian from the highchair and heads back toward the stairs as I apologize again.

  Okay, I’m off to a really rocky start with my newfound sister. It seems that every interaction between us plunges her deeper and deeper into annoyance. And I don't blame her. I've been a colossal fuck-up from the moment I sauntered through her front door.

  Faith doesn’t seem to hate me, though. She actually seemed excited to have a younger sister. She asked me tons of questions about what made me come to Reyfield and when I told her about my unexpected pregnancy and my botched expected engagement, she was all hugs and empathy. She told me she'd be here for me if I need anything. She even offered to show me around town later today.

  Grace is much more reserved. Quieter. Introverted. Lost in her head. Maybe she just has a ton on her plate. I’m sure she’s a good person. She took me in off the streets, after all.

  I'm washing out my bowl in the sink when she comes back into the kitchen, dressed in a windbreaker and sweats, with Sebastian all bundled up to face the chilly morning air. I feel so bad about finishing his cereal.

  She grabs an empty shopping bag out of the pantry. "I'll be gone for a little while. I'm expecting a milk delivery. Please answer the door."

  I nod, brushing my wild hair away from my eyes. "Sure."

  She gives me another awkward smile before heading out the front door. I peep out the living room window and watch her minivan cruise down the street before disappearing at the intersection.

  I drop onto the couch feeling embarrassed and utterly useless. There's nothing interesting on TV so I pick up my phone and scroll mindlessly through my favorite fashion blogs on Tumblr. Eventually, I open my photo app and I find myself thumbing through the pictures.

  Pictures of me and Trevor. Wearing matching caps and jerseys at a Philadelphia Flyers game last winter. Having an intimate dinner at one of the city’s most popular restaurants to celebrate his last birthday. Goofing off at Times Square during a recent visit to New York City.

  How did things get so bad between us? We used to be happy. At first, I didn’t even notice that we were growing apart.

  Maybe it started when Trevor’s career began to take off. The day he officially became an investment banker is the day he graduated into douchehood. Yes, he took care of me financially so that I could pursue my internship. He kept a roof over my head. He gave me a few credit cards to play with. He leased a nice car for me. He said he was making lots of money and didn’t mind helping me get my career on track. But he became more selfish and demanding than ever before.

  Still, I understood him. I got where he was coming from. When we met back in high school, he had nothing. His mother was an emotionally-unavailable alcoholic of epic proportions and his father had ditched them many years before. His story wasn’t too dissimilar from mine. We’d hit it off immediately, sitting together at the back of our Biology class.

  We helped each other grow. All I know is, today, Trevor isn’t the cute high school rebel I skipped classes with and got detention with and fell in love with back then. I don’t even recognize him anymore.

  I started hinting at marriage a few months back and he was reluctant at first. He kept telling me to wait, to be patient, to give him time. I was a bit disappointed but ultimately, I was cool with it as long as we could just be together.

  But then, the ring showed up.

  I’d been putting away his laundry when my fingers had brushed up against the small velvety box in his sock drawer. The ring inside had stolen my breath. It wasn’t big or flashy – it was a modest diamond sitting on a thin yellow-gold band – but it was a symbol. A symbol that he was finally ready to take our relationship to the next level. My patience and my waiting had paid off…At least that’s what I’d thought.

  Looking back now, I realize that I read too much into it.

  I got too comfortable. I thought I was safe. I started getting sloppy with my birth control…because any day now, he would pop the question…any day now.

  Except he never did. And when I told him I was pregnant, he went nuclear on me.

  He demanded that I terminate the pregnancy because his career had just started taking off and he didn’t want a baby holding him back. We fought about it, back and forth for weeks. I shed so many tears. I wanted this pregnancy. I wanted this baby.

  More than I wanted him.

  When I realized that there was no changing his mind, I jumped into the car he got me and started driving and driving and driving. I didn’t know where I was going at first. Then, I remembered that my dad had grown up in a little suburb called Reyfield just outside of Chicago and that I had two sisters there, Grace and Faith. My mother had told me about them when I was growing up.

  The thing about small towns is that everybody knows everybody, so once I got here, all I had to do was ask around and before long, someone had given me directions to Grace’s house.

  Now, here I am.

  Oh, god. I’m a crazy person.

  The parade of doubt and anxiety begins yet another march through my head. I have a baby growing inside of me and no plans for the future. What the hell is my next move? Where do I go from here?

  Maybe half an hour later, the doorbell rings. I rise sluggishly from the couch. Traipsing over to the door, I swing it open, yawning and stretching good as I come eye-to-eye with the handsomest face I've ever seen.

  Chapter 4

  Jakob

  She's mid-yawn as the door swings open, standing on the balls of her tiny feet with her fingers intertwined, arms stretched above her head. Her spine is curved causing her perky breasts to push against the bubblegum-colored satin of her pajama shirt. I catch a glimpse of her soft belly just before she lands on the soles of her feet.

  My cock grows heavy. What the fuck? I hate that shit. I hate that my body has all these innate reactions I can't fucking control. I’m a freaking animal.

  "Who are you?" I growl trying to keep my focus off the pebbled peaks of her breasts.

  She lifts a brow and hitches one hand on her hip. "Who are you?" She snakes her neck and her blond ringlets bounce against her cheeks.

  Oh she's sassy, huh? Well I don't have time for that. I have shit to do. This day is already off to a rough start. I don't need this tiny woman's attitude to enflame me even further. "I'm here to deliver the milk." I lift an eyebrow too, waiting for her to identify herself.

  She folds her arms across her chest, a smirk causing dimples to dig into her cheeks. "Well, I'm here to open the door." Her eyes twinkle the way a pool of water does when sunlight hits it directly.

  My gaze travels over her satin-clad body down to her itty-bity feet, bare against the welcome mat.
I don't want to stare but I can't help it. I have to admit that all that feistiness comes in a nice little package.

  I hear a car pull into the driveway behind me. I look back to find Grace slugging up the steps with Sebastian on her hip and a cloth grocery bag hanging off her arm. "Oh hi, Jakob," she calls as she approaches the door.

  "Morning Grace." I lean out of her way and ruffle the boy's head of white-blond hair as they pass by. "Hey Sebastian." He smiles through his sniffles.

  Grace plants a kiss on the side of his head. "It's weird how you always get him to smile. He has the cold. He's been cranky all week." She sets her groceries down by the door. “But he always smiles for you.”