FarmBoy

by Kayt Miller

  I stare at the phone for a beat or two. It’s weird. This whole thing with Nash is weird. I mean, only weeks ago, the guy pretended not to know me. Now he wants me to hang out with Andi and him? But here’s the thing. I want to see that movie. I loved the first one. But I had plans to go kickboxing after I put a pot of stew on to simmer, because there’s nothing better than stew and fresh bread. My stomach growls just thinking about it and the fact that I need to work out so I can have an extra slice of bread without guilt. I look at the clock—10:30 a.m. Maybe I can do it all.

  Me: What time?

  Nash: 1:00 showing

  I look at the clock again and attempt to calculate the time I’d need to accomplish everything today. There’s a kickboxing class at 11:30. I could finish up my stew prep, get ready for class, pack a bag with clothes for afterward, and meet them at the theater. I can do it!

  Me: Sure. I’ll have to meet you there though.

  Nash: Great. I’ll tell Andi. She wanted you to go.

  Oh, so asking me wasn’t Nash’s idea. It was Andi’s. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I love the movies.

  Andi and I walk out of the theater hand in hand. She loved the movie––almost as much as I did. As for Nash? I don’t think he liked it much, because whenever I peeked over at him during the movie, he was either looking at his phone or his head was back, eyes closed. No matter, he did the right thing taking his daughter to a movie and sitting through it even though it wasn’t his cup of tea. “Did you like the movie, Nash?” Yeah, I know, I’m being ornery.

  “Sure.” He nods. “I got a little tired of the singing though.”

  “Daddy!” Andi stomps her little foot on the ground, placing her fists on her waist. “The singing was the best part.”

  “Sorry.” He holds up his hands then laughs. “I didn’t know.”

  That seems to appease Andi. “Well then, okay.”

  “Where to next?” Nash is looking at me expectantly.

  “I’ve got to head home to finish up my stew. The bread’s done.”

  “You made bread?” His eyes grow big and round. “From scratch?”

  Oh dear, the poor man. I bet he misses his mom’s cooking. “I did. It’s the best with stew, don’t you think?”

  He nods slowly. “It is.”

  “Well, there’s plenty. I made extra thinking Isaac was coming home, but they had to cancel. Why don’t you two come over around five for dinner?”

  Andi jumps up and down, all the while looking up at her father. “Yes,” she squeals. “Let’s go to Izzy’s house.”

  “Fresh bread?” he asks again.

  I nod. “Just pulled it out of the oven before I left.”

  Nash gives me a small smile. “Sure. Great. Thanks, Isabelle.”

  I bend down so I’m close to Andi. “See you at five. I’ve got a surprise for you in my bedroom.” I glance at Nash. He’s looking back at me, and his expression isn’t what I’d call happy. “My old dollhouse. She can play with that while she’s there.”

  “Ah.” He nods.

  After that, I jog to my car and head back home, stopping at the big, fancy grocery store in Emmetsville on the way to pick up what I need to make a pecan pie. Dad’s favorite.

  I stare in amazement as Nash finishes his third heaping bowl of stew and a fifth piece of bread. How can a man that looks like that eat that many carbs? It’s not fair. I stuck to my agreed upon two slices of bread. I made that promise with myself so that I could eat one more slice in the morning, toasted with butter and jam. I can’t wait.

  “There’s pecan pie,” I say, standing up from the table. Mom starts to rise too, but I wave her off. “I’ve got this, Mom. You relax.” Turning to the guys, I ask, “Either of you want coffee?”

  “Milk.” My dad loves milk with his dessert.

  “Milk,” Nash repeats. It makes me laugh.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m fine.” She holds up her water.

  “Andi?” She’s busy eating her third slice of bread with so much butter I’m a little fearful for her heart.

  “Just pie, please, Izzy.”

  Such good manners.

  I gather up small plates, clean forks, several glasses, and the pie on a large tray. I’m about to lift it when big hands cover mine. “I’ve got this,” Nash says close to my ear. My goodness, that man is like a ninja. Plus, he smells yummy. “You grab the milk, babe.”

  Babe? I shouldn’t like that, but I do. I grab the milk and am about to follow him out into the dining room when he leans down again and kisses my cheek. “Best meal I’ve ever had, Isabelle.”

  It makes me blush. I don’t know why, but I liked the compliment. And I really liked the kiss even though it was just a kiss on my cheek. I haven’t always been a good cook. It’s taken a lot of years paying attention to my mom in the kitchen. Not to mention the Food Network. I’ve got to give credit where it’s due, after all. No matter, the pride I feel after what he just said fills me up. “Thank you, Nash.”

  “Dad, how’s the pie?” Okay, I’m trolling for praise because I know he likes it since he just reached for a third slice.

  “Great,” he says, nodding. “One more, and then I’m done.”

  I give him my best smile. I love my dad. He’s the best sort of person––not just a man. He’s kind and caring, but he doesn’t put up with anyone’s bullcrap. He adores my mom, and she loves him just as much right back. Don’t get me wrong, my mom is amazing too, but there’s just something about a girl and her dad. I’m definitely daddy’s girl.

  “Well, if you’re all done, let me clean this up.”

  “I’ll help,” Nash says, standing.

  “Sure.” I smile politely at Nash. I’ll take the help even though it’ll be awkward. “Mom and Dad, go relax.”

  “I could get used to this,” Mom says as she walks out of the dining room.

  “Andi, you can go play in my room again if you want.”

  “Yay!” She jumps down from the table and is gone in a blink.

  “Nash? Would you prefer to wash or dry?”

  “Dry,” he says so fast I almost miss it.

  We work as a team to clean up the dishes. It isn’t bad since I’d already done a lot of the cleanup before dinner. With the dishes washed, dried, and put away, Nash tosses the towel onto the counter. Leaning his slim hip against it, he watches me as I wipe down the remaining surfaces in the kitchen. Turning to face him, I see him staring, so I pause. “What?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing.” Pushing away from the counter, he steps past me. “We had a good time tonight. I need to get Andi home and to bed.”

  “Right.” I check the clock on the stove. It’s already 7:30 p.m., definitely bedtime. I’m wiped too. My hangover is gone, but I’m still tired from the day. “Thanks for coming.”

  Nash stares at me for another minute. His eyes squint like he’s not sure if he sees me or not. Either that or he’s thinking. “I forgot to tell you….”

  “What?”

  “Janine is coming over tomorrow.”

  “She is?” I squeak. I didn’t mean to––it just came out that way.

  “Yep.”

  “Good.” I smile wide. “You won’t be sorry.”

  “Hope not.” I follow him as he pushes through the kitchen door. At the landing near the stairs, he yells for Andi. “Come on, honey. We need to get home. Bedtime.”

  Andi replies with the typical kid response to that. “Awe, Dad. Come on….”

  “Nope. It’s gettin’ late. I need to check on Cy.”

  The running footsteps start at the top of the steps and down to us in seconds. She isn’t even breathing hard when she gets to him. “Let’s go check on Cy.”

  “Go thank Mr. and Mrs. Harmon.”

  She steps around him but stops in front of me, holding her hand out to shake. “Thanks for letting me play with your dollhouse and for dinner, Izzy.”

  I reach out and hold her hand. She raises our joined hands up once for one hard shake. “You�
��re welcome, Andi.”

  Next, she jogs into the living room with Nash on her tail. I hear them both thank my parents; then they’re at the front door. I don’t know what I expect to happen. Maybe I hoped he’d pull me into his arms and kiss me like he means it, but that’s not what he does. Nope. He just turns to me and says, “See you Tuesday. I hope you change your mind and just come over to my place to work with Andi. It’ll be clean.” He leans closer so he can whisper in my ear, “And I’ll be good.” He winks, and then he’s gone.

  17

  Nash

  The ride home is quiet. I know why I’m not talking. I’m trying to process the fact that I loved seeing Isabelle in her element with her family around her. She was even more beautiful than usual. The thing is, I’m just not sure why Andi isn’t chattering away after spending several hours at Isabelle’s. “You okay over there?” I say, patting her leg.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  She looks over at me. No smile on her face; just a serious expression. “I like Izzy.”

  “Me too.” I nod. “She’s a good friend.” God, I’m starting to hate that word.

  “I was just wondering….”

  Uh-oh. “Yeah?”

  “Wouldn’t it be fun if she lived with us?”

  I nearly swerve off the road. “Andi, that’s not….”

  “In our old house. It’s just the right size for Izzy and her dollhouse.”

  I chuckle because this is about the dollhouse. “Well, I think she likes living with her folks.”

  “No, she told me one time that she was going to start looking for a new place to live soon.”

  “She did?” How in the hell did that come up?

  “Yeah, we read a story about a lady who had to move because she had a pet, and that’s when she said she wanted to move.”

  “I see.” I guess I could see why she’d like her own place. She’s a grown-ass woman living with her parents. There’s no way she’d be able to have male company over there. Hell, if she lived with us, in the small house, she wouldn’t be able to have them there either. I’d put a stop to that pretty damn fast.

  “We should ask her.”

  I hear her words as I pull into our driveway. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “We could just ask her, Daddy. See what she says.”

  Pulling the car into my usual spot, I slide the gear into park and turn my body to face my kid. “Andi, that’s a big thing to ask someone.”

  “But—”

  I hold my hand up to stop her. “I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes. Please don’t ask her when I’m not around, because it’s a decision we need to make together.” The three of us. “I’m not ready for someone else to live in our old place just yet. But I won’t rule it out. Is that fair?” Hell yes, it’s fair.

  “I guess.” She shrugs as she unbuckles herself from the seat. “I’m going to go check on Cy.”

  “Me too. She needs to be fed her supplement again. You want to do it?”

  “Yes!” she shouts as she takes off running for the barn.

  Shit. I should have had her change her clothes. Those are some of her good ones.

  “So, Janine, how much will it cost to have you in once a week?”

  She’s taken a walk around the entire house as well as the small cottage that we used to live in. “Well, I charge by the hour. I think it’ll take me quite a bit of time initially to get your home to a point where all I’d need to do is spend a few hours here every week. My usual rate is twenty per hour.”

  I stare at her for a second as I calculate the cost of cleaning. I think she’s misinterpreting my expression.

  “I work fast, Nash. I won’t try to gouge you.”

  “No.” I hold up my palm. “I didn’t think you would. I think twenty dollars per hour is reasonable. I just want to be sure we’re on the same page about confidentiality.”

  “I’d never say a word. Heck, I won’t even tell anyone I’m cleaning out here. Someone may see my car, I can’t do anything about that though.”

  “True.” I nod. Her old van has her company logo on each side. “That all works. So, are you thinking Fridays?”

  “Monday works best for me if that’s okay with you.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Great.” She smiles brightly. “See you Monday then.”

  “Yep.” I walk her to the door and watch her hop into her van. People will definitely see her here. Nothing I can do about that.

  18

  Isabelle

  Things have changed between Nash and me the last couple of weeks, ever since he and Andi had dinner with us at Mom and Dad’s. The change has been subtle, but it’s there. Our friendship, if you can call it that, no longer feels strained. It’s taken on the characteristics of a natural sort of comradery. I like it, but I’m not going to lie to you. I sort of enjoyed the tension. Especially when he stood so close, I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. Yeah, I loved that tension, but it wasn’t meant to be with Nashville. I’ll just embrace what I’ve got with him. What else can I do?

  So, now I’m sitting at Nash’s clean and shiny dining table listening to Andi read like a pro while Nash makes us both a healthy snack. I decided not to use my folk’s house to work with Andi. Instead, I’m still taking her to their house on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She’s improved so much I’m afraid she won’t need me much longer. I say “I’m afraid” because it means my visits to the Watson house will come to an end and it saddens me. As for his “clean and shiny” house, it looks amazing. Janine has done a wonderful job getting his place cleaned up in a very short time. So much so, there’s not a speck of dust to be seen. She’s even cleaned the small carriage house just west of the main house. I know this because Andi took me on a tour one day after we were done with our lesson, explaining, “We lived here when I was a baby.” I knew they lived on the property, at least I’d heard that from Isaac.

  I was curious why she’d brought me out to the house until she pointed to a spot in the living room and said, “This is a perfect spot for your dollhouse.” I wanted to giggle, but I didn’t because she looked so dang serious when she said it. I guess it was Andi’s way of asking me to live in the little house. I’m not going to lie; I was flattered. Only slightly though, because she just wants my dollhouse. I don’t blame her; it’s a beautiful dollhouse. My dad made it for me when I was six. I’d never part with it.

  “Why don’t we go grab a pizza in town tonight?” Nash asks as he sets down a dish holding sliced apples, cheddar cheese, and crackers. My goodness, I feel like I’m at some sort of art gallery opening. I want to ask, “Where’s the wine?” But, technically, I’m working. Sure, it’s unpaid, but it’s still my job.

  “Yay, pizza!” shouts Andi, using one little fist to punch the sky.

  “Sure.” I nod as I bite into a tart green apple wedge. “Pizza is always good. But we’ll have to go to Emmetsville. I don’t think the diner is going to have pizza tonight.” I know they make it once per week, but Tuesday isn’t the day.

  Nash nods. “Yeah, Emmetsville. I’ve wanted to try Pascal’s Pizzeria.”

  “It’s good,” I say as I nibble on a piece of cheese.

  Nash claps his hands. “Good, while you two do your thing here, I’m going to finish up a couple of things in the barn. We’ll go in an hour. Sound good?”

  “Perfect.” I’d better text my mom and let her know I won’t be home for dinner. She’s getting used to my dinners out with Nash now since we’ve gone out three or four times in the last couple of weeks. Each time he mentions dinner out, Andi is so thrilled I wonder if they ever ate dinner out before now.

  Me: Going out for Pizza with Nash and Andi.

  Mom: Again?

  Me: Yes. I guess he doesn’t want to cook.

  Mom: You should cook for him.

  I could, but I don’t want to get accused of trying to infiltrate his life again. Or do I?

  Me: I may offer to cook sometime. Ju
st not tonight. See you later.

  Mom: Love you.

  Me: Love you too.

  The three of us are sitting quietly in Nash’s pickup. I know for me, it’s because I feel warm and content thanks to my full belly. Pascal’s Pizza is even better than I remembered. I had a hard time not wolfing down half the pizza on my own. I’m going to have to kickbox like my life depends on it at my next workout to combat the extra calories. And I’ll do it because I want to be able to eat the things I love.

  “Good pizza, eh?” Nash asks from the driver’s seat.

  “Delicious.”

  “Still not as good as your stew and bread.”

  I laugh. “Well, that’s not even my specialty.”

  His face is illuminated by the dashboard lights, enough that I can see his head turn slowly my way. “If that wasn’t your specialty, what is?”

  “Fried chicken.”

  Nash moans, and it makes me giggle. “I take it you like fried chicken.”

  “Love it. It’s probably my favorite meal.”

  I knew that. I remember. “I’ll make it for you sometime.”

  “You will? Promise?”

  “Sure.” I mean, why not? We’re quiet for several minutes, and it feels weird, so I say, “Nice truck.” I run my hand over the tan leather seats.

  “You like it?” He turns his head to look at me. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he really wants to know how I feel about his brand-new, forest green, four-door Ford F-250 pickup.

  “What’s not to like? It’s got all the bells and whistles.” And it does. The thing is loaded. I look at the dash and note all of the extras on this truck compared to his old one. Heated seats, satellite radio, dual climate controls. Heck, there’s even a small video screen for Andi to watch stuff from the back. It’s got it all.

  He nods. “It does. I think it was time to upgrade.”