by Lynn Burke
Candace followed me into the kitchen, but Archie knew better. He stood waiting, neck outstretched in the open doorway.
I tossed him a dog treat, and he went to town.
“Archie doesn’t realize he’s a rooster,” I explained as Candace eyed the pecking bird.
“I see that.”
I set the bucket on the counter and grabbed a glass bottle of goat’s milk from the fridge. “Here.”
She popped the lid on her travel mug and poured some in. “Cheers,” she muttered, lifting the mug. Her pouty lips parted, and I stared.
“Hmm.” She swallowed, and a smile hinted at the corners of her mouth. “Not bad.”
“Go ahead and take the bottle. I’ve got plenty more.”
“Thanks.” Candace glanced around my tidy kitchen. “Do you have someone come in to clean for you?”
I chuckled and pulled a sterilized bottle from the dishwasher. “No. I’m an ex-Marine. Can’t handle things out of place and dirty.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I hate cleaning.”
“How about gardening?”
She snorted and rubbed a palm down her shorts as though ridding it of imaginary dirt. “I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“I was going to sheet mulch an area I cleared a few days ago, if you want to join me. I won’t put you to work. Promise.”
“What’s sheet mulching?”
“A great way to build your own soil,” I said, pouring the new milk into the bottle.
“Build soil?”
“Lasagna gardening.”
She shook her head and sipped her coffee. “Why do you need to build soil? Seems like you’ve got more than enough around here already.”
“There’s plenty of dirt, but not rich soil for growing things.”
“I don’t get it.”
I grinned and tilted my head toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come on out and learn.”
Candace followed me outside a few minutes later after I’d put the goat’s milk away. She stepped wide of Archie, but he didn’t pay her any mind. He was still too busy with his dog treat.
“I take it you didn’t do any gardening in Saugus,” I said.
“No. It wasn’t something that ever interested me.”
“I’m about seventy-five percent self-reliant.” I waved my hand around. “I buy grain for backup feed in the winter, but for the most part, the animals free range.”
“I noticed,” Candace murmured, stepping around the chicken shit littering my semi-yard covered in dandelion and plantain.
“I’m raising a few pigs and sheep. I’ll stock my freezer for this winter, but the bulk will go to people who’ve bought shares.” I opened the gate to the crooked pallet fenced-in area where I did most of my gardening. The chicken tractor on the right housed fifteen birds, and they clucked, crowding close at the end closest to us. “Already fed you, ladies,” I called to them.
“Do they lay eggs?”
“No. They’re meat birds. I’ll process them this fall, too.”
Candace’s brow arched. “Process?”
I dragged my thumb across my throat, and she shuddered.
“You, uh, kill them yourself?”
“And pluck, gut, wash, and bag.”
“Ugh.” She shook her head as I drew up at the back section of the garden I’d readied for sheet mulching. “I can’t kill a bee.”
“Good.” I grinned and motioned at the three Flow Hives along the fence. “’Cuz I’m kind of attached to mine.”
“This is pretty amazing.” Her blue-eyed gaze roamed my acreage and returned to me. “You must be proud to have accomplished so much.”
“Yeah.” I glanced at my small fruit trees on the northern slope, loaded with green nubs … my first harvest come fall if all went well. “It’s a physically taxing life, but it’s quiet.”
Archie crowed, and we both laughed.
“Okay, so not quiet, quiet,” I said.
“I know what you mean.”
“So.” I clapped my hands. “Sheet mulching…”
I launched into a quick explanation of layering browns and greens—carbon and nitrogen—and how the earthworms and micro-organisms finish the job of creating rich soil for me.
“That’s a lot of work,” she said as I laid down cardboard atop the wild grasses and Japanese knotweed poking its damn sprouts from the ground.
“But the taste of organic veggies straight from the garden is worth every drop of sweat.”
Candace made a noise in her throat, but I couldn’t tell if she agreed or even cared for that matter.
“No work today?” I asked, grabbing a pitchfork to attack the pile of composted goat shit I’d piled nearby.
“Haven’t found a job yet.”
I glanced over at the rental house. “Kind of hard to do without a car.”
“Yeah.” She shifted on her feet and turned toward the chicken tractor. “I’m working on that, too.”
“Didn’t you have a car in Saugus?”
“Died on me the morning I was supposed to leave. That’s why I had my friends give me a ride.”
“What did you do for work?”
Candace blinked, sipped her coffee, and turned back toward me. “Sold insurance.”
“I ought to have you look at my homeowner’s policy and let me know if I’ve got enough coverage for this place,” I said, tossing another forkful of shit.
“I’ve got to get going.” She offered a tight-lipped smile.
“Thanks for keeping me company,” I said, leaning on the pitchfork. “Hope I didn’t bore you.”
“Not at all. Thanks for the goat’s milk.” She spun and picked her way back out to the gate, my gaze glued to her swaying ass until Archie greeted her.
“Give him a little pet!” I called, but she shut the gate and scurried past him without a word.
She should have picked a different work history tale, something she was familiar enough with in the event someone else started asking questions.
Chapter Three
Candace
My landlord … dark, curly hair brushing his collar, square jaw like Brad Pitt, and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen … holy shit, was he hot. And, curious. He’d thrown me for a loop when asking about what I’d done for work in Saugus.
Charlie, my babysitter, had told me that Tom knew I was in the witness protection program, but assured me he knew nothing else. Did Tom question merely to strengthen my story as Charlie did? Or, was he simply curious about my made-up life?
I put the surprisingly good goat’s milk in the fridge and sat at the small kitchen table, taking stock of that new life to put my landlord from mind. Tiny house with two bedrooms that both could have easily fit inside the one in my condo. A three-quarter bath—not even a tub to soak in—and an electric stove less than three feet wide.
“Not that I can cook,” I muttered. If I could, I’d have thrown that damn rooster in the oven.
“Give him a little pet,” I mocked Tom, shaking my head. The little fucker had crowed at the rising sun.
At least my two babysitters would get me a full load of groceries the next day. I’d had them grab me a couple of cooking magazines along with staples I’d asked for so I could learn a thing or two. I’d made up my first weekly menu and grocery list the night before, but I needed to call Charlie to tell him what I needed.
I finished my coffee without picking up my pen to write in my new notebook. No memoir allowed.
Sighing, I meandered around my temporary house until I found myself at the living room window facing Tom’s. At least no high concrete walls block out the world, I thought while sipping my coffee.
The farm sang with life. Trees full of unripe, unrecognizable fruit stood in staggered lines down a slight hill to my left. Flowering bushes and weeds lay across the clearing, bees buzzed nonstop around them to gather nectar.
Tom had pulled off his shirt and continued his sheet mulching in the large fenced-in area.
My mouth
dried.
Muscles rippled along his broad shoulders and back, and my fingers itched to trace every single one of them.
Charlie was the type of guy women swooned over, but Tom…
I swallowed more coffee, gaze glued to him as he moved, desire rolling over my skin and settling between my thighs. Tom was the type a woman would fall for. Kind, hard-working, hot as hell, and he cooked and cleaned.
“Damn.”
I wondered if Charlie wouldn’t mind grabbing me a vibrator to take care of my sudden craving. Chuckling, I tore myself away from the window. “I need a car,” I told my too-quiet house.
****
I wasn’t feeling up to venturing out for the first time, but Danny and Charlie suggested it, saying taking steps in public would help to strengthen my identity and nerves. Help me settle in. Since I couldn’t very well stay holed up forever on a ten-acre farm with a mad chicken and his too-hot owner, I relented.
The knot in my stomach that had begun to unravel in the calm of Tom’s farm tightened once more as Charlie pulled out onto the main road. I took in the wooded area dotted by the occasional shack or farm, wondering where people worked. How they made a living in such a place.
“Sure isn’t much around here,” Danny murmured from the back seat, surprising me. The second in my babysitter duo, he rarely spoke.
“You could say that again,” I grumbled. A small grocery store, two churches, a post office, and a hardware store made up the town that would be my home.
“Your identity papers should be in soon.”
Charlie’s statement drew my gaze from the passenger window. While he usually seemed upbeat and smiled most of the time, a furrow lined his brow, and his tone had been bland since showing up a half hour earlier.
“So I can finally get a license, a car, and a new e-reader.”
“Paperbacks aren’t doing it for you?”
I shrugged even though he kept his attention on the road. “There’s something satisfying about flipping real pages, but a lot of my favorite authors aren’t traditionally published.”
“What kind of books do you read? Those ones with half-naked Vikings or highlanders on the covers?”
“I go for the darker romance.”
“Darker?”
I shifted on my seat, but stuck with honesty—because I could for a change. “The naughtier side of sex.”
His brows rose as he pulled into the grocery store’s parking lot. “Whips and chains?”
“On occasion.”
“Mmm. Sounds like fun.” He glanced at me and put the car in park. “Are you a fan of that scene, or just read about it and dream?”
Charlie might know just about everything else in my life, but my preferences when it came to sex were none of his damn business. Hottie, or not. “Groceries?” I asked with a tilt of my head, my own expression bland.
A hint of desire showed in his hazel eyes, but he chuckled and hopped out of the sedan. I followed suit—without the laughter—Danny following behind me.
My attention flitted around the parking lot, down the streets, and sidewalks. I didn’t know what Papa’s two free associates looked like, and it wasn’t as though I would recognize a hitman for what he was.
Charlie, in front of me, on the other hand…
He scanned the area as well, striding across the parking lot. I stuck to his heels, my insides trembling even though Danny followed, tucking me between the two intimidating men.
God. Will I ever be able to go out on my own? My throat tightened as a rush of depression rolled over me.
“Got that list?” Charlie’s tall form swished open the automatic doors.
“Yeah,” I replied, grabbing a cart, “and, you’re gonna need one of these, too.”
“Found some inspiration in those cooking magazines I picked out for you?” Danny asked, accepting the cart Charlie pushed toward him.
“A little.” I reached for a large container of half and half a few seconds later, but changed my mind. Plenty of fresh goat’s milk on the farm. I grabbed an almond milk, my mind turning to my landlord.
I found myself peering out the windows facing his house quite often, hoping for a peek of tanned flesh over rippling muscles. Those broad shoulders and tight ass…
Warmth flared between my thighs.
“I’d love to know what you’re thinking,” Charlie whispered, meandering a little too close to my side for comfort as Danny’s cart squeaked behind us.
The bastard was an unbelievable face reader. My cheeks heated as I dropped a box of butter into my cart and glanced up at Charlie.
His hazel eyes twinkled—with that same hint of interest. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with those books I was asking about, would it?”
I turned away without comment, to check out the cheese selections. Raw sharp cheddar, Asiago, and Brie all found a spot in my carriage.
“Well?” he pushed.
“I’m not interested, Charlie.”
His chuckle grated on my ears, and I decided to ignore him.
****
I handed bags to Danny, and he packed them into the trunk of the sedan. The last plastic bag in my cart held two bottles of wine, and I hugged them to my chest. I’d gone too long without a nice, dry wine. The grocery store didn’t have any of the good stuff from Italy, but I made do.
“Don’t trust the trunk with your prize possessions?” Charlie asked, sidling up to me to open the passenger door as Danny climbed into the backseat.
A loud crack like gunfire sounded behind me, and I shrieked, throwing myself to the ground. The wine bottles exploded beneath me, but I scrambled to crawl beneath Charlie’s car, my ears ringing, adrenaline pumping with a force I’d never experienced before.
Something grabbed my ankle, and I shrieked again, kicking like a mad woman.
“Hey … hey!” Charlie’s voice finally broke through the ringing between my ears. “Candace. It’s okay. It was just a truck backfiring.”
Shuddering and on the verge of sobbing, I clenched my eyes shut and nodded. Wine soaked the front of me, and bits of glass clung to my shirt.
“Are you all right?” Charlie asked, grabbing hold of my arms as I stood and lowering his head to peer into my eyes. Danny had hopped from the car and stood beside him, gaze narrowed and scanning the parking lot.
“Y-yes,” I managed and plucked the bits of glass off my shirt.
Once I finished, Charlie wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight against his hard chest. “Everything is going to be okay,” he whispered with hot breath against my hair, sending a shiver of unease down my still-trembling body.
I pushed away from him, rubbing my bare arms and glancing around the parking lot as Danny continued to do. My little episode of hysterics had drawn attention. A couple of people stared, two teenage girls giggled and quickly looked away.
Heat flooded my face.
“Let’s go,” I muttered, pulling open the passenger door before Charlie could reach for it.
“You okay?” Danny asked, his gaze full of concern, kindness.
“Yeah. Sure.” I tried for a smile of reassurance, but failed while plucking my wine-soaked shirt away from my skin. I climbed into the car, my insides a shaking mess.
“You don’t have to worry,” Charlie said while buckling his seatbelt a few seconds later.
Red clouded my vision. “Don’t have to worry?” I snorted on sarcastic laughter. “There are two men out there who would love nothing more than to put a fucking bullet in my brain, and you tell me not to worry?” I all but hollered the words.
Charlie scowled and pulled out of the parking lot. “You’re not the only one with enemies and troubles. Everyone has problems, Candace.”
“Everyone has problems,” I growled, crossing my arms against my soaked shirt and bra. “What the fuck would you know about the problems in my life? Ever experience a price on your head? Put your own father behind bars? Find out everything you lived was a complete fucking lie?”
“No.”
>
Steaming, I turned to stare unseeing out the passenger window. Everyone had fucking problems, but nothing compared to the shit that was my life. Or, lack thereof.
Chapter Four
Tom
Not that it happened too often, but whenever Candace escaped the confines of the bungalow, Archie loudly took notice, scurrying across the clearing to follow her. She avoided me for the most part, but began to soften a bit toward my rooster.
It took two weeks, but I finally caught her bending toward Archie, her mouth moving without a frown marring her brow. He just stared up at her, waiting. She caved on Thursday of week three, sliding her fingertips over his feathered head.
I grinned and went back to gathering the eggs. While I wanted her to open up to being my friend, my desire to look after her woke too many painful memories.
Charlie and Danny had things under control. At least, they’d seemed to whenever visiting or getting her out of the house every couple of days.
Soft footsteps sounded on the scattered straw and weeds behind me. “Hey, Tom.”
I glanced over my shoulder and smiled as Candace drew near. “Morning.” Jean shorts and a tight tank top hugged her in all the right places. My cock took note, and I turned back to my task. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” she replied absently.
An untrue answer.
I turned with my full basket. Purple tinged the skin under her eyes. Her gaze as weary and sad as every time I’d spoken with her. “Need any eggs?”
“Sure.”
“Come on in.”
She picked her way beside me through the chicken shit, and I couldn’t help my chuckle. “What?” she asked, glancing up at me.
“Now that you’ve got a car I expect you’re anxious to land a job and move to another place with a cleaner yard and no crowing roosters.”
A small smile tugged at her lips as she gazed around the clearing. “I’ve actually come to appreciate the privacy. It’s really beautiful here.”
“And Archibald Reginald?”
She huffed while eyeing the bird waiting on the stoop for his dog treat. “He’s not so bad, I guess.”
