by Elder, Jan;
Hunter tried hard not to laugh at Marigold’s faux pas, but it was too late. “Oops.” Where had this woman even come from?
Hunter scratched his favorite heifer between the ears and stroked her neck. His neighbor Savannah had passed away two months ago, but there’d been no “For Sale” sign in her yard. Now, a sassy woman stood in front of him on Savannah’s lawn. A beautiful, strawberry blonde, mad woman with snapping blue eyes.
Today. Just. Got. Interesting.
His behemoth of a cow stamped her foot, and Blondie promptly stumbled backward into Gabby.
Gabby grabbed the woman’s arm and steadied her. “Hey there, Hunts. Meet Cassidy. Cassidy, this is Hunter Gray. We go to the same church.”
Cassidy. She looked like a Cassidy. Uppercrusty. With that short, stylish haircut, lithe figure, and trendy clothes, she belonged in one of those women’s magazines his sister was always reading. Definitely not from around here.
Gabby cooed and petted his cow’s soft nose. “Marigold moseyed off on another jaunt, I see.”
“Yep. At least I found her before she hoofed it downtown.” Hunter hooked a thumb in the belt loop of his jeans and tried not to stare at his shapely new neighbor.
Cassidy folded her arms, her forehead wrinkling. “Your cow’s been downtown?”
“Sure, she’s sauntered into town a time or two. My sister and I started a bakery in her kitchen, just inside town limits. Marigold enjoys a good slice of apple crumb pie every now and again.”
The pretty woman frowned and tapped her toe. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not kidding. Hillary and I run a little bakery—Cookies, Cakes, and Cobblers.” He tried hard not to break into an amused grin.
“No. You misunderstand me.” Cassidy rested a hand on her hip and clamped ruby-red lips together. “I don’t think you’re kidding because you make baked goods. I’m talking about the cow eating the pie.”
Holy Moses, she was cute. Too bad she had no sense of humor.
“Ohhh. She really does fancy good pie, but we try to discourage too many sweets.” He tamped down the laughter rumbling in his throat. Who knew he would have so much fun today?
Cassidy stiffened. “Right. Clean it up before we get back.” She hesitated and shoved out the word, “Please.”
“Will do.” Hunter saluted. He’d bet real money Gabby would tell him Cassidy’s life story after church on Sunday. And wasn’t it only natural he’d want to know more about the person who lived next door?
Cassidy inched back slowly. How could this city woman be afraid of such a benevolent creature?
“Don’t worry. Marigold’s as gentle as a spring lamb.”
“Fine. She’s a lamb. Is she supposed to be so fat?”
“She’s not fat. She should be calving any day now. Her first one.”
“Aw, can I come visit after the calf is born?” Gabby asked.
He never grew tired of the miracle of birth either. “Sure. You fond of cows?”
“Who doesn’t like cows?” Gabby bounced on the toes of her hot pink sneakers and petted Marigold’s sizeable head.
Hunter patted Gabby on the shoulder. “Calm down, shorty. I promise to give you a call.”
Gabby nodded, face alight with joy.
Cassidy frowned again and raked a small, delicate hand through her hair. She turned to go.
He wanted her to stay. “Cassidy?”
She pivoted on her heel and sank deep into the dirt. Arms crossed in front of her chest, she backed up another step. “Yes?”
“Free pastry to all newcomers in town. Stop by when you get a chance.” If he didn’t quit bantering with Miss Sophisticated, he’d be late to work.
To his absolute astonishment, she blinked and a whimper escaped. “Sure...I just don’t want any more cattle sashaying across my lawn. OK?”
She bolted. What’d he do? He might not be the answer to every woman’s prayer, but females rarely fled in terror.
The car door slammed. Sweet-but-slightly-obtuse Gabby didn’t seem to get the hint. Cassidy tooted the horn. Gabby stroked Marigold one last time, dashed to the car, and leaned her head in the window. “Sorry. He’s a great looking guy, isn’t he? A sweetheart, too.”
Hunter stifled a grin, thankful his sense of hearing was finely tuned. And, OK, maybe Gabby wasn’t so ditsy.
He really did have to hustle. By now, his sister would be gearing up for her daily prize-winning hissy fit. She’d been out of sorts more than usual lately.
He cleaned up Marigold’s mess, tugged on her rope, and towed an unwilling cow back to the barn. After he’d stowed her safely in her stall, he stopped by to see Petunia. Slowly, he led her out of her stall and watched her walk. She’d been limping all morning and he wanted to keep a close eye on her. He pulled up each of her hooves to check for swelling and infection.
Petunia swung her head around and gave him the pleading stare of an animal in pain. That back left foot again. He’d have to call Dr. Kimberly.
He cruised the barn, checked that everything was in order, stopped by to pat Lily and Tulip, Bluebell and Violet, and doled out alfalfa cubes as he went.
In the tool shed, he found a hammer and some old wood to patch up the fence. He didn’t have time to do a stellar job, but it would have to do. As he nailed the last board into place, something niggled at his brain.
He’d seen that pretty woman somewhere before.
~*~
Gabby pulled out of the driveway, fanned her face with her fingertips, and set off on a Hunter-fest. “So what do you think of Crystal Falls’ most eligible bachelor? He grew up on that farm. When his parents retired and moved to the Eastern Shore, they sold everything to Hunter. He’s trying to get it up and running again...”
Cassidy quit listening. She’d forgotten Hunter lived on Glistens Mill Road. She hadn’t connected that factoid with Savannah’s address. Unfortunately, she’d barely been aware of where Savannah lived until she heard from her stepsister’s lawyer.
Gabby went on to claim Hunter was God’s gift to the planet. Well, she didn’t know squat. Beastly man.
Cassidy watched the scenery whiz by and counted other people’s cows in other people’s pastures behind other people’s fences. Cows where they belonged.
When she’d woken up that morning, the last thing on her mind was Hunter Gray. Her first love—and the first guy she’d ever wanted to hurl far, far out into the deep blue sea—had been a scant five feet away.
Seeing Hunter again had shocked her. Today of all days, she was so not ready for this. When he’d gazed at her, his eyes twinkled as if little lightning bugs were putting on a show, but who cared? Was it too much to ask that her lawn be critter-less, her fence be restored to its original sturdiness, and her grass cow-pie-free?
“So do you?” Gabby gunned the engine, leaned into a curve, and clipped the edge of the pavement. Gravel shot out from under the wheels.
Cassidy grabbed the seat and hung on. “Do I what?”
“I knew you weren’t listening. I asked if you had a boyfriend.”
“I did until a couple of weeks ago. His name was Bradley.”
Gabby rested a soft hand on her left shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cassie. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
At least she wasn’t pushy. “The name’s Cassidy, and no need for sympathy. Long story short, he was always trying to get me into bed. I got tired of saying no, so I told him it was over.”
“Oh. I see. One of those types who doesn’t understand delayed gratification.”
“We went out for six months, and he acted as if I owed him something. Told me normal people would have shown their ‘love’ for each other well before then. Classic, huh?” Why was Cassidy telling a perfect stranger about her love life? But Gabby was easy to talk to and Cassidy didn’t have any friends left in this town.
A smile flitted across Gabby’s features. “Did you love him?”
Had she loved him? No. Not really. “I dated him because he’d said he was
a Christian. I thought he’d be different than the average guy.”
“Hard to find a good man these days. ‘Course, I wouldn’t know, having only been on two dates in my entire lifetime. Both disasters.”
That was a surprise. Gabby was so outgoing and adorably cute. Cassidy didn’t get it. “Well if you think Hunter’s so great, why don’t you go after him?”
“Too old.”
“What do you mean he’s too old?”
“Hunter’s got to be thirty or something. He graduated from high school, like, ten or twelve years ago. Sure, he’s a good Christian man, but he treats me like I’m his little sister. Besides, I have my eye on another guy.” Gabby blushed, a delicate, rosy pink sweeping across her cheeks.
Hunter hadn’t professed to being a Christian in high school. Had he changed?
“Hunter’s twenty-eight, and I hope it works out for you.”
“Me, too. So are you looking for love?” Gabby turned toward her suddenly. “Hey, how’d you know how old Hunter is?”
Cassidy ignored the question. “I’m not looking for love.”
“What do you mean you’re not looking? Jump back in the game. Hunter’s a certified, Grade-A, number one catch.” She made him sound more like a luscious prime rib than a man.
Cassidy gazed at the sun slipping over the horizon, a delicate rose-gold streaking the clouds in the sky. Did Hunter remember her? He hadn’t given any indication that he did, but high school was years ago. Time to put the past firmly behind her. She would focus on enjoying her deep-fried chicken and banish all thoughts of the infuriating man next door. She had things to do.
Important things that didn’t include Hunter Gray.
3
Hunter coasted into his parking spot behind his sister’s house and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. The sleepy morning sun winked at him through the trees behind the shop, normally his favorite moment of the day, but he didn’t have the energy to enjoy it. He kneaded the back of his neck, tipped his head to the right, then the left, and ignored the noise as his jaw popped. He’d already been up for hours working on the farm, and he was flat worn out before he even started his shift at the bakery.
His hands clenched. His sister would be waiting, so he might as well go in. He loved her but…he was done working with her. Time to man-up and shoot straight. The constant dread of daily manipulation was taking a toll on his health. Slamming the car door harder than he’d meant to, he prepared himself for the daily assault to his ears. Dear God, give me wisdom.
Hillary shot him a glare that would sour sweetened condensed milk. “About time you drifted in. As usual, I’m working my behind off while you’re lazing around that so-called farm of yours.”
Hillary see-sawed her wheelchair back and forth next to the lowered kitchen counter and then tapped her fingers on the island. A puff of flour rose and hung suspended in the air before sifting to the floor.
Arguing would be pointless. According to her, anything he did on the farm was his “hobby.” Hunter gritted his teeth, inhaled the sweet fragrance of sugar and spice, and allowed the peace of God to fill him with fortitude. Somehow, he even dug up a smile. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine. I was having a chat with the twins, Petal and Pansy. Cows need love too, you know.”
“You and your cows.”
“And I’m leaving early today. My new kids are arriving in a few weeks, and I have to get the place ready.”
“Kids? What kids?”
“Baby goats. Remember I told you I’m selling cow’s milk to a cheese-maker in southern Pennsylvania?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s why you bought those fancy cows. High butter fat content. See, I’ve been listening.” Hillary gave the chocolate chip muffin batter a vigorous stir, spattering drops onto the counter. “So what’s with the goats now?”
“Goat’s milk makes wonderful cheese, not to mention yogurt, especially for people who are allergic to cow’s milk. When I’ve scraped together enough money, I’m taking a trip to Vermont. There’s a creamery doing what I’d love to do on a larger scale, and they invited me to take a tour.”
Hillary’s gaze swept over him, disbelief flickering across what used to be pleasant features. “I thought I made this clear. I can’t spare you. Quit messing around, sell that albatross of a farm, and be content to work here with me.” Crocodile tears moistened the corners of her eyes. Like the leathery reptile, Hillary could work up a faux show of sorrow whenever she didn’t get her way. It’d been her M.O. for years and the main reason they hadn’t gotten along when they were younger.
Then, after her accident, things had changed. Her badly broken legs had left her nearly incapacitated, and she truly needed compassion. Hunter and his father had worked hard to make life easier for Hillary and transformed her house—especially the kitchen—so it was “wheelchair” friendly.
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, stabilizing breath. How had he fallen into the trap of granting her every wish and whim? He was happy to assist, but sorting out genuine needs from Hillary’s high-maintenance requests had been tough, and he preferred to err on the side of grace. Still, somewhere she’d crossed a line. A worm on a hook got better treatment, and he had let her get away with it.
“Hillary, we discussed this. Find some help that’s not me. I’m cutting my hours and doing what I need to do. For me.”
“Awfully selfish, if you ask me. I can’t do this without you, and you know we’re not doing great financially. What with new businesses coming to town, I’d planned to add candy to our list of products to draw in more customers.”
“The bakery is your dream, not mine. I don’t have time to bake, make the deliveries, and work my farm. You’re smart. I have faith you can make it work. I’ll pitch in—as long as you’re interviewing people seriously—for the next month. But if you don’t find help by then, you’ll be on your own.”
Hillary tried on a soulful gaze, the one calculated to instill concentrated guilt in his gut, but he remained unmoved. Letting Hillary dictate his life was going to stop. Hunter flexed his fingers to ease the tension, steeling himself for what was coming next.
“But you owe me.” Hillary narrowed her eyes and slapped the counter with a batter-covered hand, making the muffin pans jump.
He crossed his arms and stood firm. His little sister was an intelligent, capable woman, but with him there to lean on, she had yet to see it. All she could see was her wheelchair.
God, help me say the right thing. “I hear you, Hillary, and I know this is hard on you, but I’ve been helping out for ‘a little while’ for two years now. I think I’ve done my time, don’t you?” Hunter turned away and washed his hands at the sink, drying off each finger, one by one, with his paper towel. Inside he chuckled. He’d prayed for patience, and God answered with plenty of opportunities. “So, what are we baking today? How about cinnamon streusel scones? They were a big hit last week. After that I’ll start on the pies.”
Hillary’s pout morphed into a petulant scowl. “Make whatever suits your fancy. What do I care?”
Well, at least he’d stood his ground. The gritty millstone of guilt rolled off his shoulders. Hunter searched in the recipe file for cinnamon scones and got to work.
The morning flew by with barely a word, but it was probably better that way. Early afternoon, Hunter tidied up his area and hefted the box on the counter. He’d deliver the baked goods before his grocery run. On the way out, he bumped into his hulking cousin Kyle.
“Hey, Hunter. Got any cash you can loan me? There’s a new Cyber Death Monkey game out.”
Hunter shook his head. His cousin did nothing but play video games and sponge off anyone who’d give him money. “Sorry, Kyle. No can do.”
Kyle’s dad had run off, leaving his mother with two little rug rats to support. Still, his cousin had done nothing with his life except aggravate his mom. In high school, he’d been caught stealing from a teacher, but no charges had ever been filed. It was a wonder the kid wasn’t in jail by now.
>
Hunter clapped him on the back. “Tell Hillary I said you could have the leftover cookies to take home. And don’t eat them all. Save some for your mom.”
Time to get home to do what he loved. At the end of a long day, he visited the barn, patted his cows goodnight, and mounted the stairs for bed. Tomorrow was Sunday. The bakery was closed, and he’d never been so thankful for a day of rest. He couldn’t wait to track down Gabby at church and grill her on his new neighbor.
~*~
Early Monday morning, after a restless night, Cassidy tumbled out of bed, opened the guest bedroom blinds, and pressed her forehead to the windowpane. Yep. A “mooish” kind of din had penetrated her sleep, and now she had bovine evidence. Her money was on Marigold.
At least she thought it was the same confounded cow. Cassidy struggled a bit to open the sash—when was the last time Savannah had opened her windows, and what had happened to the screen?—and stuck her head out. The beast oozed contentment, parked on her turf all innocent-like, wisps of grass drooping from slobbery lips.
Her neighbor’s screen door shut with a slight bang, and a shirtless man in faded jeans traipsed across his yard and into hers. There was a conversation going on down there if his hand gestures were any indication. He pointed toward his field, and the cow heaved her heavy bulk back through the gap in the fence, ungainly hips swaying. Cassidy could almost detect her grumpy “moo.” Shivering in the brisk morning air, Hunter followed, slapping the cow’s rump with obvious affection.
Just before he disappeared from view, he glanced up at her window and spotted her staring. She froze, caught in the act. He nodded his head in greeting and cracked a smile. Then the exasperating man vanished like an apparition through shreds of wispy morning mist.
She remembered that spectacular bare chest from the practice games on the high school basketball court. Hunter had played with a bunch of his friends after school while she lurked in shadowy corners of the gym. Of course, he was a lot manlier now and, it seemed, farm work built strong bodies.
A silly sob caught in the back of her throat. She sank to the carpet and hugged her knees. Dear Lord, I’m trying. I really am. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she rose to her feet. She was up way too early, but there was no chance she would go back to sleep after such a man-sighting. She pulled herself together and ignored the cold sweat creeping down her back.
