Page 63 of While the Sun Shines

“I will,” he says softly.

“I’m counting on you to ’cause if I own that bar and you own the farm, we’re working down the road from each other for the rest of our lives.”

“That sounds—” He feels the corner of his mouth lift in a smile. “That’d be pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” Penny leans her shoulder into his. “I got some plans too, if you wanna hear them.”

“Of course I do.”

“You gonna just forget them?”

“No, ’cause I’m recording this entire conversation on my phone,” he says. “I really will take notes later. Transcribe it. Study it.”

“Weirdo.”

“Hey, if that’s what it takes,” he says. “So tell me.”

“Well, first off, I’m going to change the entire menu so I don’t have to come home smelling like fryer oil for the rest of my life.”

Come home to where? he wants to ask. “I like it.”

“Two, I’m going to challenge you as the best fermenter on the block by turning the place into a brewery.”

“Competition, all right. I can get behind that.”

“Three, you’re going to grow me hops.”

“I am?”

“Hell yeah, you are. And pumpkins for a fall beer, and we’re going to team up for beer and cheese tastings.”

“You have this all planned out.” Drew lets out a small laugh. “Aren’t you—God, I’d be terrified to take all that on.”

“I know you would be,” she says. “But I’m into the challenge. And besides, you make running a business seem like so much fun.”

“No, I don’t.”

Penny laughs. “No, you really don’t.” She bumps their shoulders together. “Not at all, but I think I could handle it.”

“Well, I can handle growing hops, I think,” he says. “And I volunteer to taste test all your beer.”

“You’re gonna have to fight Cooper for the honor.”

“Have you told him all this? ’Cause if not, I have a head start to prepare.”

“Good luck,” she says. “That going in your own five-year plan?”

“I guess it’ll have to,” Drew says. “I mean, not that I have one.”

Penny just looks at him. Like she has all day. Turning something over behind the deep brown of her eyes. “You don’t?”

“Well, I can get as far as figuring out tomorrow.” He pushes his hands down his thighs, his palms sweaty against the denim. “Like feeding the stupid sheep. Think I can take some leftover cake from here? ’Cause the hay’s ruined.” He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. Somewhere in the house a faucet runs. At least it’s quiet down here. Private, too, the entirety of the first floor between them and the rest of his family. It makes it easier to say, “I have no idea what I’m doing with the farm, Pen.”

“C’mon, that’s not true.”

“Five years from now, I’ll be lucky if the house is still standing, if the cows haven’t just packed their bags and moved in with another farmer, and my family hasn’t taken back their land with tractors stuck all over it.”

“Give yourself some credit. Your cheese is so good, and look how much you’re selling this year.”