She laughs. “Just doing my job. Don’t be melodramatic.”
“Bullshit. You’re amazing at everything—knowing the plants, taking care of Izzy, caring for the animals. Seriously.”
She shrugs. “You know I love the farm. It’s easy to care of the things you love.”
Those hazel eyes dart away, and I don’t miss the deepening hue in her cheeks. I nod and ignore the tightness in my chest at those words. And then I kiss her forehead. “You’re too good for me. Just so we’re clear.”
“Don’t I know it.” She laughs, sounding relieved I didn’t make more of what she just said. But I know the sincerity behind those words, and I’m not a dick enough to think they’re directed at me.
Hank returns with a few different pairs of shears, and I let Kat pick out the ones we buy because she obviously knows more about this shit than I do.
We order a few supplies for the farmers’ event, and as we’re checking out, I watch her chat with Hank and enjoy their easy banter. She asks about his wife and listens as he complains about his herniated disc. She tells him about Izzy walking and wanting to get into everything. He tells her his wife loved her lemon-lavender bar recipe.
I’m watching them with a smile… until I remember why we’re at the nursery in the first place—so I can prep the farm to sell it.
Getting my realtor’s message the other day that he’s had several people express interest in the farm had me both leaping for joy and dreading the day I sell. Because while nothing about the lifestyle is easy, I see why my brother loved it so much. Everywhere I look, I see his life and what he was trying to build with his new family.
And I feel like a rotten bastard for wanting to hand it over to the highest bidder. To a perfect stranger.
But the reason my stomach is in knots is because I loathe the day I have to tell Katherine it’s over. Because that day is coming.
We’re not officially on the market yet, but Kent says he wants me to carry on with my plan to make any cosmetic changes the farm needs. Then he noted I should prep the fields for the upcoming harvest in the event this process takes longer than expected.
“It could take a few weeks or months or longer,” Kent said, not wanting to get my hopes up.
Weeks. The word made my heart sink. Which is fucking insane. I spent one night with Kat, and already it’s muddling what I know I need to do. What I have to do. Because I don’t have a choice.
35
Katherine
The sound of an engine starting and sputtering across the dinner table makes my lips quirk up.
Brady has a spoon full of mashed potatoes he’s been trying to get Izzy to eat for the last five minutes, but every time he gets it near her mouth, she tightens her lips with an impish grin. So he’s gone to full-out airplane mode, pretending to fly her food like a little Cessna coming in for a landing.
When she finally relents and gobbles it down, he cheers her on.
“All right, baby! Fist jab!” He holds out his clenched hand, and his niece thwacks her hand into his with a giggle.
Oh, Lord. I hold in a laugh.
Brady might not have held a baby before he arrived here, but you’d never know that now. To look at him, you’d think he was a pro. Well, except for the occasional toxic poop that gets him crying to me for help.
After dinner, he swabs her little face with a warm washcloth and starts loading the dishes into the dishwasher.
“I can do that,” I offer as I sip my coffee.
“Nah, I got it.” When he finishes with the last dish, he heads down the hall where I hear him run the water in the tub. A few minutes later, he strides in, scoops up the baby and leans her over to me. “Give your hot Aunt Kat kisses so we can get you ready for bed.”
I chuckle as Izzy slobbers on my cheek.
“You want some help with her bath?”
“Nope. I think I can handle it.”
I’m smiling up at him like a big fool when he leans down and kisses me. Aside from that quick PDA at Hank’s nursery, Brady has been pretty hands-off all day. I haven’t known what to think. Whether we’re done or if we’re headed for another dirty sleepover.
This kiss, though, this kiss blooms the seed in my chest, the one that I’ve been trying to stamp out—the seed of hope.
Of hope for more than just one night. For more than a sexy fling. For more than something casual and meaningless.
Even though that’s what I promised him.
Brilliant, Katherine. Really freaking brilliant. Summa cum laude and this is where you end up.
He saunters off with the baby, and my smile fades as the truth settles in.
My heart skitters around in my chest as I tell myself not to hold out hope. Sex between friends. That’s what this is. I’ll never be his girlfriend. We’ll never be more.
It’s what you promised him, dimwit.