Page 81 of While the Sun Shines

“Part-time,” he tells her. Even just one day a week. To do the smaller tasks, like Cooper and Whit picked up yesterday—wrapping cheeses, sticking on labels. Nothing too technical or complicated, just to take the busy work off his plate.

Which means posting a job listing, answering the incoming emails, interviewing, and sorting through hiring paperwork. But on the other side of it, maybe being able to finish work on time each day. And not get behind on orders, so the money’ll work out. And, if he knew he could keep using Caroline’s land, they wouldn’t have to worry about buying hay. Plus, the milk coming in from the sheep, if Whit and Cooper can wrangle them, would make it all the more viable.

If, if, if, he thinks. Too many balls in the air. Those unknowns he’s always shied from, that overload his brain and leave him listless in their wake.

Penny, he thinks.

Sharing an early dinner with her before she leaves for the bar in the evenings. Taking the afternoons off together and going back to his own work when she heads to Murry’s for her shifts. Working his own schedule out to match her free days.

Never, ever again having to hear Penny tell him she’s lonely.

It’s no contest. Drew stands, brushes off his knees.

As for tonight, well, he can’t make cheese anyway, not without any milk.

He follows the sound of the electric sander up to Whit’s room, where Abelardo’s finishing smoothing a ridge of dried spackle on the far wall.

“Looks nice,” Drew says.

Abelardo brushes his hand over the spot. “I hope I’m doing all right. You looking for Penny? I think she went for a run.”

“Absolutely, you’re doing great. I—uh. No, I was actually going to ask, well, you’re already up here, but I’m taking today off from the farm.” He presses his palms to the doorframe. Huh. He is, isn’t he? Two days off in a row—when was the last time he even thought about doing that? “So, I wanted to see if you wanted to work up here with me, give me a hand getting this as finished as we can.”

“Whatever you need.” Abelardo grins. “You thinking we’ll get finished with the painting? And the window trim too?”

“That and some work in the bathroom,” Drew says. Quickly, he pulls down the sheet of plastic he long ago taped up. How idealistic he’d been that winter day, that he’d be finished with Whit’s room in no time at all. It’d been so cold that he’d had a terrible time getting the tape to stick, and now, he cracks the window to let the hot breeze inside. “Retiling the floor, a coat of paint in here, I—yeah, whatever we can get done quick ’cause I think I’ve driven Penny nuts enough for one lifetime.”

“Oh, she’ll be excited.”

“Yeah.” Drew picks up a dry paint roller. He spins it once, then sets it back down. “We’re—tonight, we’re doing Battle of the Bartenders. Don’t tell her, okay? Just us, I mean you too, of course, and her work friend. Uh, Courtney, her name is, I think. Cooper’s going to run it.”

“Penny’s going to love that.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Drew picks up the roller again. “Uh, I’m sorry I’ve been sort of a dick to you.”

“It’s all good,” Abelardo says. “Seems like kind of a crazy time of year, and Penny said you get stressed out by the farm sometimes.”

“She said that?”

“She talks about you all the time. Drew, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Oh.” Drew turns to the wall in front of him. He needs paint on his roller. “I’m—huh. I didn’t know that.”

“All good things.” Abelardo grins. “Minus the bathroom, of course.”

“Of course,” Drew murmurs. “I’m trying to—I gotta try to be less stressed out. Hang out with her more, too.”

Or stressed about the right things, more like. Concerned with Penny’s happiness. Making time for her. And ensuring she feels loved.

Abelardo passes him a paint can. “That’d mean a lot to her.”

Drew draws in a long breath. God, today is a lot to handle. “Yeah. Yeah, I sure hope so.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Drew examines his reflection in his mirror, wiping away steam from his shower to be able to see himself clearly.

He touches his beard, neatly trimmed. He pushes his hair to one side. Then runs his fingers through it to angle it back from his face. Then brushes it to the other side. Fuck it, he thinks, and styles it the same way he always does.