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.