5. Remi

Chapter 5

Remi

I ’d never been more drawn to a woman than when Angie climbed out of her massive tractor yesterday. The thing was as big as a house with tires taller than me.

There sure wasn’t any slack in her rope.

Pulling up my collar against the early morning cold, I braced my legs against hay bales on the flatbed trailer being towed behind Angie’s ancient truck. She jerked the truck to the right, and I struggled to stay upright so I didn’t go spilling into the pasture riddled with cowpies. Eighty cows trailed behind us, mooing and trampling the soft ground; mud and shit splattered their underbellies. Some of them flicked their heads and sprayed froth all over their friends.

What if we humans behaved this way?

I could see foam spraying out of our mouths over our meals and splattering onto each other. Myles would go for that at dinner tonight. Excuse my foam, your food is that good. Yuck.

Angie was an independent, capable woman, and I found myself in the rare position of being intimidated by someone else. Yesterday she’d given me all the expectations she had for me to fill in for her father, and I doubted my decision to take this job.

However, this was my only window into the family who’d managed to stonewall my dad for years and find a weak link to break their refusal to sell. As an added benefit, I got to be closer to this enigma of a woman—who was as friendly as a fire ant.

She presented a challenge I’d never come across, and I couldn’t resist trying.

The truck slammed to a stop, and I flew into the stack of bales behind me. Hay covered my hair and my clothes.

I sneezed.

My first stop after this morning would be the pharmacy to buy Allegra, Zyrtec, and a whole gallon of Flonase.

Angie popped out of the truck. “I’m sorry. A calf darted in front of me.”

“I’m good.” I lifted a bale of hay with the two strands of thin orange twine binding it together and used my knees to throw it off the side of the truck bed. Now I was entirely acquainted with the term ‘bucking hay.’ I literally had to throw my hips into it to get the rectangular bales off the trailer. When Angie had demonstrated, she’d made it look easy.

The cows descended on the fresh hay.

“How many more bales do we have back there?” Angie asked, still hanging out of the truck.

I counted: one, two, three, four—“Seven more. You want to use all of them?”

“I’ll drive to the end of the field, keep throwing them off every six feet or so,” Angie said.

I gave her a thumbs up in my now-dirty, new leather gloves as she sat back in the driver’s seat and closed the door. The truck crawled forward over boulders and through divots. I managed to remain on my feet and throw hay off as she stopped at the end of the row.

One more bale was left on the trailer. I could see Angie’s eyes on me in the rearview, and I wanted to make this one real impressive. I bucked that bale as hard as I could, but when I pulled my hand back, it didn’t listen. My fingers were looped tight under the twine. Where my fingers went first, my body followed.

After being suspended in the air for a few seconds, I crashed to the ground. The impact dislodged me from the twine, and I rolled free through pile after pile of cow shit. Trying not to think of the excrement sticking to my new jacket and jeans, I stopped.

Angie’s brake lights glowed in the morning mist, the sun bright on the horizon. I’d give anything to pull a chain or flip a switch and shut off the dawn light so I could slink my way back to the flatbed unnoticed.

She strolled over to me. “You okay?”

“Yep.” I rolled onto my back and breathed in. My side and shoulder hurt where I’d first connected with the ground. For sure, I’d feel the consequences of the fall tomorrow. “I’m fine.”

I thought she’d come over and help me up or sit next to me, but she didn’t. At first, she let one laugh escape and then another slipped through her nose until she was doubled over.

As embarrassed as I was, even as pain filtered in every muscle I moved, my shoulders shook as I laughed with her. I stood and tried to dust off what I hoped was mud on my pants. That was when I noticed the cows had closed in and were looking at us with their glossy eyes. Having never been this close to a large animal, I took a couple steps back.

“You afraid?” Angie’s smile bordered on cruel enjoyment.

“This ain’t my first rodeo.” I plastered a confident smile on my face. Why was I such a moron? Ain’t my first rodeo? Where the hell had that come from?

I blamed Texas. Being raised by the son of a Texas rancher-turned-real estate tycoon hadn’t helped either.

“You just can’t stop with the lies.” She shook her head. “Go on then. Rub her head.”

“You want me to touch the cow?” At her nod, I continued, “I don’t see why this is necessary.”

“Believe it or not, genius, sometimes the cows get sick or injured, and if I’m at the hospital, I’ll need you to handle it.”

She gestured for me to proceed forward. I straightened my shoulders and walked toward the smallest group of them, locking eyes with the one I’d selected to pet. Its breath puffed into the air as it snorted and tossed its head. I almost backed away but held strong, placing my hand right between her eyes.

I looked back at Angie. Lifting my chest as I took a deep breath, I challenged her with a raised eyebrow. I could do this.

Another cow chose that moment to kick its leg back and hit my crotch. Breath whooshed out of me, replaced by agonizing pain pulsing from my balls into my stomach. I dropped to my knees and dry heaved. I leaned back onto the ground and stared at the brightening blue sky.

What am I doing here? My brother and father wouldn’t have expected this of me. Why was I torturing myself?

Angie’s laughter grew louder, and she leaned over me. “Never approach a cow from behind. Especially not a mama cow.” She continued to chuckle. “Wanna give up yet?”

At the sparkling hope in her eyes, I knew I couldn’t let her win. I wasn’t about to extinguish the fire and call in the dogs on the first day. The cows, who’d at first dashed away at my knees hitting the ground, now dipped their noses close to me.

Strands of hay hung out of their mouths. I couldn’t read their expressions, but I knew what they were thinking. Classic. Stupid humans … and This hay has the right amount of weed in it. I imagined cows thought of little else beyond food going into their stomachs.

Finally, I wordlessly shook my head at Angie.

“Took you a hot second to decide.” She stuck her hand out to me. “I’ll drive you to the house so you can get an ice pack.”

The sun rose behind her, shining through the blonde strands of her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore no makeup, and her natural beauty was irresistible. Damn, she was gorgeous—and in one day, I’d learned to proceed with caution around her. I took her hand and stood, walking bow-legged.

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, throwing me a knife. “Cut and gather the twine from the bales. I’ll wait for you on the canal road.”

She walked back to the truck, swung into the driver’s seat, and drove off.

The quiet morning closed in on me. Shuffling and mooing cows became background music. Carefully avoiding their backsides, I cut the orange strands, pulling them free from the bales. In between each bale, I took in the scenery surrounding me.

The rolling green pasture edged by the Snake River Canyon with its snow-capped mountain peaks behind gave this place an almost fairytale feel—like I lived in a landscape painted by Monet. I’d seen his Haystacks at d’Orsay the first time I’d visited Paris.

The pain, still throbbing to the tips of my toes, disrupted the picturesque setting. This was a hard land, and only the people strong enough to tame it could live on it.

I smiled even as anxiety clamped down on my throat. How long would I have to do this job to close the deal? A week? A month? Assuming I could survive that long.

Angie looked at me like a porcupine in a nudist colony, lying in wait to find new creative ways to inflict pain. I tempered my scowl as I approached the truck and tossed the bundle of twine in its bed.

Through the open driver side door, she leaned against the truck’s bench seat. Her phone pinged, and her eyes briefly met mine. She tucked her lip under her teeth and slid off her glove to check her notifications. I leaned over to peek at her phone. The little parachute notification from the ExtremeSingles app popped up along the top, but then she turned her shoulder and held her screen close to her chest.

Hold on one hotfallutin’ minute. Angie? Online dating? On the extreme sports site? “ExtremeSingles.” I didn’t bother pretending I didn’t see her notification. “What happened to ‘I’d never do something as stupid as jumping off a bridge?’”

“I still won’t.”

“Then what are you doing on this particular dating app?”

She looked me up and down, then said, “You won’t understand.”

Pretending to be scandalized, I pressed my wide, splayed fingers against my chest and gasped. “Bless my soul, Miss Angie, are you …” I lowered my voice. “Catfishing?”

“No,” she answered too quick. “Maybe. Only halfway.”

I chuckled at her obvious terror at being even slightly dishonest. How cute.

She narrowed her eyes at me and returned her attention to her phone. “I’m just trying something new.”

Based on the look on her face, she really liked the person who’d messaged her. How could she be more attracted to a man she met online than me, a nicely formed, flesh-and-blood specimen standing right next to her?

“So, do you like him?”

“How do you know it’s a him?” She glanced over her shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow.

All the good ones were lesbians. But, good news, it explained why she was so indifferent to me. The world made sense again.

She laughed, presumably at the face I must have been making. “I’m not gay.”

The vice around my chest eased. “Cool. I mean, I’m good whatever your sexual orientation is.” I leaned against the truck, but my glove slipped against the slick metal, and I lurched to the side. I hid my stumble by slapping my glove on my leg.

She paused, looked at me, opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. Turning from me, she typed furiously on her phone, pressing send ten times in less than thirty seconds.

“Hold on there, tiger.” I snatched her phone, quickly glancing at her messages.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Give it back.”

“What is this?” I flicked through the rest of her messages and read them out loud in my most feminine voice. “ I can’t believe you’ve hiked Kilimanjaro. I would die for an opportunity like that. ” I snorted. “ What are you wearing right now? ” My voice dropped into my normal octave as I read how ridiculous her last message was.

“Shut up.” She grabbed her phone, and I let her take it.

“You’re never going to get this guy if you keep sending messages like that. You’re coming on too strong.”

“What do you know? Dan’s nothing like you.”

She cradled her phone against her chest like she thought this man was a soft and gentle baby animal.

“He’s a man, and men want one thing.” I held up my pointer finger in her face. “Sex,” I mouthed.

“You. Are. Disgusting.”

“I also happen to be a man. Keep going on like this and you’ll chase him away faster than greased lightning.”

“Greased lightning? What are you—”

“How many times have you been ghosted after you matched?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, this is worse than I thought. All of them dropped you, didn’t they?”

The slight sag in her shoulders and the way her chin dipped down a notch gave me the answer I needed. She had all the goods but none of the game.

“No.” Her denial was too adamant to be true.

I gave her a look that told her exactly how much I believed her.

“This time, it’s going to be different.” She changed her tune.

“No. It isn’t. This dude is a text message away from running.”

She was giving away too much too soon. If only she’d let me teach her my ways, then she’d have men four states over begging to be with her. Every instinct in me told me this land deal hinged on Angie. If I got her to agree, then her parents would follow; therefore, the closer I got to her, the better. “The only way this guy will stick around is if I help you.”

“Whatever. You’re barely competent enough to feed cows.”

“Would you rather end up with cows or men?”

Just as she was about to spew another quick retort, defiance leeched from her eyes. “You know all about the extreme sports scene, don’t you?”

“Lesson one. When you say stuff like ‘scene’ you sound like you’re eighty.”

“I don’t know why I even tried.” She rubbed her temple in circles and started to walk away. “Forget it.”

“Yes. I dabble in extreme sports.” As in, I’ve done everything: skydiving, kiteboarding, motocross, canyoneering. You named it. I’d done it.

Pausing mid-stride, she turned back to me and took a breath. “All right. I might need your help.” She said this like she’d swallowed vinegar. And then the dam broke. Words spilled out of her faster than I could catch them. “… I mean, this guy knows everything … even rappelled down Lincoln’s nose … extreme sports, and I kind of told him I did … big fat lie, and there’s only so much I can Google. Besides, I hate heights. I’m scared of pretty much anything that could result in my death. Honestly, I don’t know why more people aren’t terrified of these kinds of things. I mean, white water rafting. You could get sucked under the water and never come back up. Who would do that? And don’t get me started on BASE jumping—”

I grappled with the words lost in the jumble and tried to piece together a request. “You want me to take you BASE jumping?”

“That’s not just a no. That’s a H-E-double hockey sticks no.” Her teeth tugged at the nail on her middle finger. She dropped her hand away from her mouth. “I simply need you to make me sound more authentic. Teach me the lingo, what type of gear you use, that kind of stuff.”

“You want me to help you lie to him.”

“Kinda. Not really—Yes.” She stood and started pacing in front of the truck as she kept talking. “I want you to help me be more interesting to this guy. Like, keep his attention. You know?”

She—a woman who cared for her parents, ran a farm on her own, worked in the medical field saving lives, had a sense of humor, and on top of all that, had a face and body with curves that went on for miles—wanted me to make her sound more interesting.

However, she did a horrible job presenting herself.

“Why do you want this guy so much? Why not break it off and try again?”

“I don’t know. I really like him. We connected.”

I’d trained for years to spot a lie, and Angie lit up like a red flashing light. “Liar. Try again. The truth this time.”

Pink rose in her cheeks. “Fine. I want to get married before Papa dies, and this guy shares my same goals.”

“You want to get married to this guy in a matter of months?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“So many things, but let’s start with the obvious. Marriage.”

“Let me guess. You don’t believe in it.”

“Hell no. I believe in it. It just doesn’t work.” The majority of social structures in the animal kingdom were built on one male to many females. Forget penguins, swans, and the rest of the mating-for-lifers. “I’ll never get married.”

She flapped her lips together. “I doubt you’d ever convince anyone to marry you.”

“Oh. I could. You underestimate my powers of persuasion.”

“You’d have to use them to convince any woman to hitch themselves to …” She gestured with her hand palm up from the top of my head to my toes. “… all that.”

What? I was a gorgeous man. Women flocked to me. But I had to admit I was intrigued that Angie wasn’t one of them. What was it about me she found so repulsive? “And yet you’re asking for my help.”

“I’m only asking for your expertise. And maybe a smidgeon of that persuasion.”

Straightening my shoulders, I stretched my neck and kicked my legs out into a wider stance. I’d found my leverage. “Why would I help you? What’s in it for me?”

“My appreciation.”

“Nope. Not good enough.”

“A Christmas bonus? I’ll kill the fatted goose.” The silliness of her statement hardened in a sludge of sarcasm.

“Let the goose live.” I laughed. “I’ll help you, but I have some conditions …”

“I shouldn’t have even asked for your help,” she muttered under her breath.

I ignored her. “One: you have to stop trying to hurt me.”

“That’s a vague condition, princess. And besides, how am I supposed to stop a cow from kicking you in your jewels?”

Once again, I plowed on ahead without acknowledging her comment. “Two,” I paused to make sure I had her full attention, “you can’t fire me.”

“How about you help me, or I tell my parents you lied, and that you’ve never worked on a farm before?” She sent me a glare hot enough to fry an egg on a sidewalk.

“Go ahead. Tell them.” Nora was half in love with me, and Tony already treated me like a son. Though I liked to think of myself as a genuinely nice person, I had a knack for getting people to do what I wanted them to do, which made me so good at my job … and picking up women. “Your mom won’t care, and you know it.”

Her fierce look eased into a frown, then she crinkled her lips to one side.

“Three: you have to do everything I say.”

She held up her hand. “I’m not going to jump off a bridge without a parachute if you tell me to.”

Like I would purposefully get her killed or maimed in any way. “I, in turn, will ensure your safety.”

“I feel like I’m making a deal with a Loki.”

I smiled in my best Tom Hiddleston impression. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me.” My impression of Loki was spot on. I kept going, “Four:” To be honest, I was making up these conditions on the fly. “You have to teach me how to drive your big tractor.”

“That’s like a half million-dollar risk—”

“Those are my conditions,” I interrupted and stuck out my hand for her to shake it. “Deal or no deal?”

She scrutinized my hand like I had a communicable disease. Taking in a short breath, she agreed in one word. “Fine.” She gripped my gloved hand, not even shrinking away at the cow excrement dotting the new leather.

“Then let’s get to work.” I released her hand, and, yanking off one glove, I held my open palm to her. “Give me your phone.”

She hesitated. I’d bought my way into a cushy couple of weeks. No more getting kicked in the nuts.

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Daniel Smoot.”

“Smoot? His last name is Smoot?” I couldn’t hide my reaction. Surely, with a name like that, she couldn’t be considering a relationship with him. I mean, if all went well, assuming she’d choose to take his name, her end game would give her the name Angie Smoot .

She didn’t respond and lifted one perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.

“I get it. His name is off limits. Your phone.” I wiggled the fingers of my still outstretched hand.

She unlocked her cell and placed it in my palm.

I snapped a picture of the view, typed one sentence, and hit send. “For the record, I don’t think you can pull this off.” I tossed the phone to her.

She caught it in the middle of her angry huff. “I can too, you skunk ass.”

“Skunk ass is the best you can do?”

“Papa and I have this thing about being creative with our swear words, and a skunk ass is far worse than jackass, in my opinion.”

I laughed.

“Finish feeding the cows. Don’t forget to lock the gate.” She jumped in the truck, but when I went to climb in, she clicked the locks. “You can walk back,” she called through the open passenger window and drove off in a puff of dust.

I cut the last twine and whistled on my way to the farmhouse.

Let the games begin.