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“Maybe take a selfie with that hot neighbor of yours and post that instead. I just searched him up online, and he is pretty damn good-looking… and rich. Hell, did you know he is a billionaire?” She gasps.
“I didn’t, but I'm not surprised. He came in here flashing his checkbook. Money or not, he is just another man who won't take no for an answer.” I haven’t seen him since the bar. Since he offered me a shot of whiskey and yet again asked about buying my property. He is persistent.
“At least you always have Garry,” she quips, and I look over to see where my friendly goat is, and he is looking straight at me before he bleats. He is getting fat. I am sure he is bigger than he was when I first arrived. It must be all this long grass he is eating. At least I don’t have to mow it with him around.
Hearing a weird thud in the distance, I stand up, looking around, trying to figure out what it is. A black dot in the sky comes closer before it is almost right on top of me.A helicopter?I squint into the sun as it flies over my property. Shiny black with gold writing on the side. It is so close it is blowing my trees and causes Garry to start running around berserk.Shit, I left the gate open.
“What is that noise?” I hear Fiona ask.
“My horrible neighbor! I gotta go. Call you later.” Throwing my cell down near my basket of produce, I jump from the porch.
“Garry!” I scream over the loud noise, hoping to get his attention, but it’s no use. Barefoot, I break into a run over to the far side of the yard to shut the gate before he runs through it. Just as the chopper passes by, I get there in time, puffing out a breath as I lock it. My feet are no longer nice and clean, but rather a little dirty and muddy from the run. As I look back at Garry, he’s running in the other direction, then putting his head in my basket, eating some of the herbs I picked from the garden.
“Garry! No!” I scold him and take off running again, the grass and dirt underfoot making me cringe as it squishes through my toes, before I stumble a little. “Dammit.” I should have just gotten changed and put shoes on like a normal person after my shower. Taking another a step, I stumble forward, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my ankle, enough to take my breath away before I start to fall.
“Ahhhh!” I yell out to no one as I face-plant onto the ground, my body landing with a thud.
“Oohhhhhh.” I groan, seeing stars for a moment asmy nose throbs. Pushing off the muddy soil, I try to breathe through the pain in my ankle. I look down at my feet, seeing blood and a cut across my skin. It isn’t too deep, but it stings badly.Of course this would only happen to me.
When I notice my robe, I curse. I might be good at interior design, but right now, I look like a zombie, my robe streaked with mud and probably Garry’s shit. The new black lace underwear set I have on underneath is the only thing on my body that looks remotely clean, but clearly, it isn’t farm appropriate. So much for romanticizing my life today. Who wears lace underwear when they’re just walking around at home, alone?
I try to stand but hiss as the pressure on my ankle increases the sting. Between my throbbing face and ankle, I am sore from tip to toe. Walking is out of the question. I can’t even hop because I feel a little dizzy. There is no fence nearby to pull myself up on, and I look around but can’t find any stray sticks to use as a walking stick.
Feeling the sting in my ankle increasing, as is the blood flow, I look up at the house now fifty yards away, seeing my basket of eggs and herbs sitting on the porch near my cell phone. Garry stares at me like he is wondering what the hell I am doing, but I don’t miss the green herbs dangling from his lips as he continues to chew.
“This can’t be happening…” I moan, frustrated that I have hurt myself. I feel my nose and move it a little to ensure it isn’t broken because it still throbs. It isn’t, thank God, but my eyes water at the continual sting pulsating through my cheekbones. I hope I don’t get black eyes.
I have no idea what to do. I don’t know exactly how bad it is, but I have a feeling walking isn’t a good option. As I sit here, I pull my short robe down to try to cover my bare thighs, my eyes flicking around my property, hoping that some idea comes to me. I try to crab walk, but I can’t even do that because that causes the blood to run a little more.
Lying back on the grass, I gaze at the blue sky above me to gather my thoughts, feeling helpless and stupid. If I can’t make it to the house to at least get my phone, I will probably be here all night until Kevin comes back and finds me tomorrow.
I swallow the thought of being so alone out here, looking across the long grass at what hit my leg. And that’s when I spot a steel stake sticking out of the ground, barely above the grass, almost completely hidden. I have no idea where that came from. It isn’t mine, and I assume it must be old, but it looks new, still silver and shiny.
“Come on, Victoria, think!” I scold myself out loud, which causes a bleat from Garry. I give him the evil eye. We are no longer friends.
“I should have let you run out of the gate,” I grumble to him.
I see and hear no one, and with no way to call anyone and no visitors expected, I do the only thing I can think of. I pull my arms into my torso tight and start to roll. Like a pencil, I roll slowly along the grass. I remember doing this at the park as a kid. Back then, it was fun, and I giggled nonstop. My mom took photos. But now, as mudand Garry’s shit coat my bare legs and beautiful satin robe, and with my ankle throbbing and bleeding, joy is not the emotion I am experiencing.
I scrunch my nose as my face and hair get coated in mud as well. I hear Garry bleat again, and I stop mid-roll, looking at him, his eyes watching me like he is thoroughly confused now.
“Don't laugh! This is all your fault!” I chastise him before he goes back to eating the herbs from my basket and I focus on what I am doing. My roll is slow, my ankle painful, so I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and take a deep breath before continuing.
“I love this farm. I love this farm. I love this farm,” I start to chant quietly to myself. At this rate, I should get to my phone before Garry eats it.
I hope.
13
TANNER
The chopper lands at the distillery, and I jump out quickly, the blades starting to slow, but the wind gusts still blow. I know she is home because I saw her out the window as we were coming in. The one woman I can’t seem to stop fucking thinking about. It looked like she was wearing a pink robe, and her long legs looked fucking amazing, almost as good as her perfectly painted toes in the image she just posted to her socials.
I’m not on social media much, but when she tagged the bar with an image of her and the girls, I had a look at her page. I am now more addicted to social media than I ever have been before. Seeing the work she is doing on the house in her before-and-after photos, it is impressive, especially in such a short amount of time.
It’s been almost a week since I saw her in the bar, and she looks even better than I remember. So does the house. She has painted the outside and the garden’s a little tidier already. She must have gotten help, becausethere is no way one person could have accomplished all that in a week. I need to find out who is helping her and get them to stop. The more work she does, the less likely she is to sell, and I want that property.
The chopper obviously startled her. She was running after the goat. I feel bad for not warning her. I know the chopper scares the animals, and since she arrived, I haven’t told her that choppers are in use around here at times.
