Page 70 of Riding the Sugar High

When she shrugs, my patience wears out.

“Look, if something’s bothering you—” I start, only to be interrupted by the male piglet, who welcomes me with a squelch as he bites the hem of my jeans. “If you have something to say?—”

“What, Logan?” she asks in a snappy tone. “Do you want me to be honest with you? To just come out with it and tell you the truth?”

The spark of anger inside me flares, because you know what? This place is a mess, and having her around all the time is a constant and exhausting exercise in restraint. The situation with the police is stressing me out, and after my meeting with Tom, the last thing I need is to come back home and be screamed at for no fucking reason.

“You got a call,” she says. Her voice is weirdly calm and collected, but somehow, I know it’s because I’m standing in the eye of the hurricane, and the storm is just an inch away.

“Okay.” I give her a dry look. “Who was it?”

“Tom.”

“Oh.” My eyes jump to the phone, then back to her. He didn’t mention anything when I saw him today. “What did he say?”

“That you have a potential buyer.”

Swallowing, I study her expression. I can’t believe that idiot told her, and I can only hope he didn’t share more. That all she has is a suspicion.

“Mm. Well, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not it.” I brush it off. “I’m just selling my bike.”

She shakes her head, and I try to ignore the frantic beating of my heart. It’s as if a bucket of disappointment is perched above her head and slowly drenching her, drip by drip. “Really? You should call him back, then, because he thinks he’s selling your farm.”

I stare at her for a long moment, my jaw tightening.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

“What’s there to say?”

“You lied to me, Logan. You’re lying to everyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” My frown deepens. “Why should I tell you I’ve put the farm up for sale? You don’t work here. We’re not friends—we’re nothing. You’re a guest.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, and a light dims in her eyes. I’m being an asshole, but it’s the truth. I told her from the beginning that I was not looking for friendship or romance. Whatever remains is what we are, and that doesn’t grant heart-spilling or secret-sharing. I owe her nothing.

“What about Simon and Kyle? Are they just guests?”

“They’re my employees. I’m under no obligation to?—”

“Aaron, then. Does he know you’re planning to sell the family farm?”

“Leave Aaron out of this,” I snap back. “You don’t know anything about him. He has no say on what goes on with my farm.”

Eyes darting down, she frowns, which is just great. She went from pissed off to sad.

“Look,” I mumble as I try to soften my voice, but the phone rings again, and I scoff. I usually get one call a week, if that.

I walk to the receiver, pick it up, and bark, “What?”

“Uh, hmm. Hello? Coleman Farm?”

Exhaling, I will my heartbeat to settle. “Yes, this is Logan. How can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. I’m calling from Eco Spot.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re a new vegan grocer that just opened in downtown Roseberg. We’ve been looking for a produce supplier, and...”