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“Damn it, Goliath.” A growl rips out of my throat with more force than I intend.
She quirks an eyebrow, amused.
“I put him in the front paddock to keep him out of trouble while I was working this morning,” I explain. “I should have known he’d escape.”
I walk to the side of the porch and grab a whip and lasso, shaking my head and muttering about Goliath.
“Do you need any help?” the woman asks.
I turn sharply, suddenly protective over her well-being. “No. Stay here, please, ma’am. It won’t take long.”
She nods. “All right.”
I know there’s no real reason for her to stay, but I can’t bear to let her go yet.
Not when she’s had this kind of effect on me.
I temporarily push my feelings to the back of my mind and head through the pasture, calling to Honey, who follows quickly. It doesn’t take much to get Goliath back in. I move out to one side of the road, waving the whip and lasso. Honey comes in from the other side and we drive the bull into a small wooden pen. He’s demolished the wire fence on the other paddock, and from the way he glares at me as he goes over to his hay, I feel like it was probably an act of defiance.
When I get back, Becca is standing on the porch. She’s out of the sun now, but still just as radiant.
“Looks like it went okay?” she says.
I nod. “Thanks for coming up here and letting me know about him.”
“I’m glad I could help.” She extends a hand. “I’m Becca, by the way.”
“Adrian,” I say, shaking her soft hand. “Can I offer you something to eat?”
“That would…be great, actually. Thank you.”
I show her inside and I take off my hat and finish getting lunch ready, pulling out a big loaf of freshly baked bread, a block of homemade cheese, butter I just churned this morning, and a few slices of ham. When I ask her what she’d like to drink, she says she’ll have whatever I’m having, and I opt to pour us two glasses of lemonade instead of opening up the beer I’d originally intended on having.
“Oh, wow,” she says as we sit down to eat. “This all looks incredible. Is there a market around here? I’d like to go there.”
“There are a few markets in town,” I say. “But most of this is homemade.”
“Really? That’s amazing.” She slices off a piece of bread and starts to butter it, peeking up curiously at me in the middle of doing so. “Is it just you here?”
“Not exactly,” I say, smiling. I nod toward Honey, who’s lying by Becca’s chair. “I’ve got Honey to keep me company. There are also a couple of cats who think they run the place.”
She laughs, then gives me a teasing look. “That’s not what I meant. Do any otherpeoplelive here with you?”
I shake my head. “I inherited the farm from my grandfather. My parents and sisters lived here for a while, but they’ve all moved away. So now it’s just me.”
“Ah. I see.”
Her expression shifts in a way I can’t quite interpret.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“What brought you through here?”
“Oh. Well…I don’t know where I’m going, exactly, to tell you the truth. I was in L.A., trying to make it as an actor. But that didn’t work out so well.” She looks down into her lap and I can tell she’s upset. “I lost a job, several other things fell through, and I just left.”
“Sounds like you needed to get out of there.”
