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“Can’t. Too much to do.” Pivoting, I head toward the door.
“The tour’s over, Hannah,” she calls at my back.
Yeah. Usually, this would be the time when the group I’m leading gets to run free for a while without any structured activities. And I could let Ellister do that. He could just stroll around and discover all the hidden gems of this place on his own.
But that would mean leaving his side. I’m not ready to do that yet.
He and I have today. Only today. After I’ve shown him around, he’ll have no reason to stay. He’ll leave, go back to his boss, and report what a great investment the farm is.
And I’ll go back to dying in complete misery. Without him by my side to make it better.
He’s waiting for me when I get outside. Our table has been cleared of garbage and he even put my sweet tea in the cupholder of the golf cart so we’d be ready to go.
“Everything all right?” he asks cordially.
“Parents.” I force a laugh, trying to leave that awkward moment behind us. “So, are you ready to see one of the most profitable attractions we have?”
Ellister nods. “Just show me the way.”
HANNAH
“Goats?” Ellister’s question is tinged with disbelief.
“Goats,” I confirm, leaning on the fence and grinning when one of the females starts nibbling at my shirt. “And chickens.”
I motion to the fenced yard across the lane where several of our hens are meandering around.
“You said you sell milk and eggs.” Ellister’s obviously baffled. “Are those items so expensive?”
“No.” I shake my head.
Hooking my arm through his, I use him for support on one side while leaning on my cane on the other as I start leading him to the money maker.
I shouldn’t be so touchy-feely with him. I know it’s unprofessional.
I don’t give a damn about that anymore.
He’s magic. All I know is I’m better when Ellister’s close, and I’ll be as wildly inappropriate as I must.
This man is the respite to my pain. He’s warmth and fuzziness. He’s my lullaby in the dark.
Still clinging to his arm, I stop in front of the row of goat feed dispensers. They resemble gumball machines on three-foot poles, with red-lacquered tops and shiny chrome handles. All four of them are filled with round brown pellets behind the glass.
“Do you have a quarter on you?” I squint up at Ellister, the bright sun shining above his head.
“No.”
“Neither do I. It doesn’t matter. Just wait a minute.”
“Wait for what?”
“You’ll see.”
Not even fifteen seconds later, two kids run up to the machines, insert their coins, and turn the crank.
A handful of feed falls from the little metal hatch into their palms, and they run over to the fence to greet the gluttonous goats.
These animals have no shame. They greedily fight for a front-and-center spot, sticking their heads through the slats and pushing each other aside. While they frantically nibble at the air, the kids try to distribute the food evenly to the eager mouths, but there’s always at least one goat that gets the short end of the stick.
