6. Angie

Chapter 6

Angie

T he gravel path to the pigpen wound its way around the barn; Remi followed. I ignored him while I pointed out the chicken coop, the barn, and horse pasture, all places Remi would be well acquainted with once I unloaded his full list of duties. Booster the Rooster crowed as we passed him and his harem.

The sun sank low in the sky. Pastures, still cloaked in the yellowing leftovers of winter, contrasted with the freshly plowed fields adjacent to the neighborhood. I hugged my sweatshirt closer to my body in the cool air. This was my paradise—the one secure place in the world where I could be myself without judgment. Maybe that was why Remi’s presence here made me so uncomfortable. Remi was the alien invading my home planet.

A gust of wind carried the scent of the sprinkling we’d gotten this morning. Not enough rain to make me happy, but at least it was something to fill up the reservoirs and keep our canals running. I rubbed at my upper arms, trying to keep myself warm in the chill air.

“You cold?” Remi scooted next to me, set one of the slop buckets on to the ground, and started taking off his crisp jacket.

Detergent and fabric softener permeated the air every time he came close to me. He must have washed it after rolling in cow crap yesterday morning. I glimpsed well-toned muscles under his shirt. Once again, he’d worn another tight, white T-shirt. Had he bought those shirts in bulk when he’d applied for this job?

Taking a step back, I said, “I’m good.” But I couldn’t help softening a little toward him. In all my online and real-life dating, I couldn’t think of one time a man offered me his jacket.

Remi hung his coat on the fence. “Oh, I wasn’t giving it to you. I’m just starting to break a sweat.” He picked up the slop bucket, stepped past me, and dumped it for the pigs.

Scratch that. What a cocky son of a camel.

His immature behavior gave me more drive to break him. He’d do all the dirtiest, most strenuous jobs while I took my joyous time sitting in the tractor, listening to audiobooks while I prepped the fields for planting. He’d spent most of the day clearing the furrows in our gravity-irrigated fields, not a super difficult job if you had a tractor. But, of course, I made him do it without one.

Bracing his hands on the top board, Remi leaned over the panels of the pig pen and watched them eat.

“Don’t get too close to Ham, Pork Chop, and the Bacon Bits.” I pressed close to his side. “A couple years back, old man Peterson passed out in his pig pen. They ate him, bones and all.” I gave him a push toward the pigs.

Though he tried to hide it, he flinched and jerked back from the pen. I bent over and placed my hands on my knees, laughing at him. Hashtag: worth it. This was too easy.

“Go on.” I leaned against the wood-paneled fence. “Dump the other slop bucket in.”

Stepping forward, he tipped the bucket’s contents to the pigs, glaring at me the whole time. “I don’t believe you.”

I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes and moved into the barn. The crunching gravel behind indicated Remi stayed close.

“Fine, don’t believe me. Ask Google. The story made national news.” I glanced over my shoulder at him and strolled to my favorite outbuilding.

Four wood and wrought-iron stable doors stretched above my head to the left and right of me. All were empty save one, the one with Mae in it, my quarter horse mare. We’d sold the rest of the horses to cover some of Papa’s medical bills, but I couldn’t bear to part with her. Her stable connected to the green pasture, so she could choose to go in and out as she pleased.

Remi’s cell rang at the entrance. Despite the glow from his phone screen, a shadow passed over his features. “I’ve got to take this. Be right back.”

He strode a good distance from me, well away from the pigs. He kept his eyes trained on me. I stayed in sight for a bit, but then I moved into the dark interior, acting like I was straightening the harnesses. Once inside, I traipsed through Mae’s stable, shushing her on my way past. She plodded alongside me until we came to her pasture’s gate.

“Sorry, girl.” I slid through the opened gate, then closed it behind me, cringing at the small clanking noise the latch made.

I sprinted through the grass until I heard Remi’s low voice. With his back turned to me, his shoulders rounded over his phone like he created a cave of protection around his traitorous smart device. He turned in my direction, and I ducked behind a post.

“… quarterly dividends … profit margin …” His voice drifted through the wind. “… fair market … Yeah … great ROI … Don’t go there. Matthew will loop you in …”

Leftover rain droplets blew off the fence and smacked my skin. The edge in the stiff breeze should have frozen me, yet I broke into a sweat. Who the hell was he talking to? What was he talking about?

“… too aggressive of a timeline … I’m having to square the circle on this one …”

Curiouser and curiouser. Not one of the snippets I caught between the gusts computed with the man Remi presented himself as. He was hiding something from me. Maybe his presence had something to do with the companies circling like vultures around my land. Could Remi be a corporate spy?

I shook my head.

My latest psychological thriller audiobook must be going to my head. Corporate spies exist in a glittering world far too fancy for my farm. But if not espionage, then what could he be doing here? Why my farm? Why now? I was so lost in puzzling over him that I almost missed Remi ending the call and pivoting toward the doorway—my last known location.

I bolted to the barn.

Managing to race back to the bridle wall just as Remi meandered inside, I hefted Mae’s saddle from the bench to disguise the reason for my heavy breathing.

“Here. Let me.” Remi jogged to me and took the saddle. Its weight didn’t even cause him to strain. “Sorry about that. It was one of my exes.”

Without responding verbally, I gestured to the rack on the wall, afraid if I said anything, I’d accuse him of lying to me. In this case, my best play would be to stay silent, gather more evidence, and then confront him.

He placed it in the empty slot and rubbed his hands together. “What next?”

Narrowing my eyes, I stalked past him to my horse. As usual, she chose to be where I was. She padded to me, leaned over her stall, and nudged me with her nose.

“This is Mae. She’s a sweetheart. I’ll be taking care of her mainly, but you’ll be mucking out her stall.” I walked to the wall and pulled a pitchfork from the rack. “There’s a wheelbarrow over there.” I pointed to the other end of the barn and shoved the handle at him.

Mae’s ears flicked forward at Remi’s intruding presence. Her eyes dilated and she straightened her neck, examining him.

“You want me to do this now? With the horse in the stall?” His eyes widened as he looked at Mae.

“Sure. She’s good about staying out of the way.”

“She’s too big to stay out of the way.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “How often am I supposed to do this?”

“Every evening. Would you want to sleep in your own urine and manure?” Criminy, what kind of operation did he think I ran here? My animals were my top priority, especially Mae.

“No. But I’m housebroken, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.” He quirked his eyebrows at me.

Determined not to reward him for his joke, I cleared my throat, stifled my laugh, and took on a nonchalance attitude while digging through the tack box.

I froze.

There … in the corner of the box … was the beginnings of a wasp nest. Two wasps with their wings in line with their body clung to black hexagonal pockets with their spikey, spindly legs. My knees weakened, barely maintaining the ability to hold my weight.

Skin tensed along my spine, and the phantom pain of multiple stings struck me, reminiscent of the time a wasp had gotten stuck under my shirt. I jumped backward.

“What are you doing?” Remi asked.

“Wasps,” I managed to squeak, pointing to the small hive. “Your job includes eradicating these useless insects whose only purpose in life is to inflict pain.”

“Hm.” Leaning into the handle of the pitchfork, he scratched his chin. “Have we stumbled on another one of your fears?”

I tugged at the bottom of my shirt. “You’re confusing fear with respect. I respect they’re devils sent here to torment me, and they respect I will kill them on sight.”

His face cracked into a smile, and he shook his head. “What do you need in there?”

“A bottle of deodorizing dust.”

Exhibiting bravery as I’d never seen before, he reached his bare arm past their glossy eyes. After a moment, he pulled a bottle out from the box and held it out to me. “Is this it?”

“Yes. Sprinkle the damp spots. You don’t have to clear out the straw every day, just the soiled parts of it and refresh it with more if needed. Once a week, take it all out and lay down new bedding.”

He looked from the stall to the pitchfork, to the bottle, to Mae, and back to me. “And where do I get more straw?”

“There’s a stack outside, under the tarp. If you need a shovel, it’s hanging on the rack on the wall.” My phone pinged, and I hustled toward the barn door.

“Wait.” He dropped the deodorizing powder and stopped me. “Is that Smoot?”

I tugged my phone out of my pocket, knowing it was Daniel before I looked at the screen. “Maybe.” I smiled as I read his message.

I can’t stop thinking about you. Am I sending you too many messages? I don’t want to chase you off.

We’d been messaging almost constantly since we matched, although Daniel’s interest increased when I used Remington for his expertise. Whenever Remi wasn’t in my immediate vicinity, I’d safely steer our conversations away from extreme sports to my more well-versed subjects.

Haha. I’m worried I’ll scare you off with all the talk I’ve been doing about farming.

Let’s FaceTime tonight.

Dan’s reply lit up on my screen as if he’d been in tune with my thoughts.

I stopped walking and took a sharp breath. My cursor blinked, waiting for my typed response. I couldn’t put him off again, or he’d for sure move on to someone else. Remi took advantage of my hesitation, snatched my phone, and ran to the far end of the barn, typing the whole time.

“Hey, give that back.” I chased after him.

“This is part of our deal.”

His thumb stopped moving across my screen in one decisive movement. I jumped, stretching for my phone, but Remi stood on his tiptoes, holding it out of my reach.

“Really?” I stopped trying to get my phone and put my hands on my hips. He was more annoying than Jared. Considering, I grew up with my brother constantly torturing me, that was saying something. “You’re so childish.” How could one human drive me this crazy?

“Relax.” Remi returned his attention to my screen, scanned it, and began typing again. “Do you think I’m going to sabotage your relationship?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Remi was as persistent as the scum in the grout lines in my shower. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t get rid of it.

“There. All fixed.” He handed me my phone.

I skimmed through the messages. “Wait. We can’t FaceTime until Friday? Why?”

“There are a few reasons for my madness.”

Here we go again. I shifted my weight to my other foot.

“Number one: Men are more attracted to unavailable women. If you always make yourself free, he’ll lose interest.”

On the flip side of that, if I never became available, he’d find another woman more willing to be with him.

Remi continued to list. “Number two: We’ll have time to prepare for the first face-to-face meeting.”

Like I needed that much preparation.

“Number three: You have to go on at least one extreme sports adventure before you talk to Smoot. The best way to lie to someone is to make the lie a truth.”

“Then it’s not lying.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you always make lists when you talk?” I lowered my eyebrows at him.

“The reasons I make lists when I talk are—Number one: It lessens miscommunication …”

Balling my hands into fists by my sides, I jerked my thumb at the stable. “Whatever. Just clean the stall.”

Mae swung her head between Remi and me. She tossed her tail up and down and whinnied while Remi droned on.

“Number two: I get to emphasize my words with my fingers.” He held up two fingers.

I picked up the pitchfork he dropped, walked until I stood in front of him, and stabbed it into the ground.

He gripped the handle, meeting my narrowed eyes. “Number three: Lists help me stay on top of …” His gaze traveled the length of my body, searing into me. “… things.”

I shook my head at him and his seedy implications and dug into my pocket for my slip of paper. “Here’s a list for you.” I shoved the list of chores I’d made for him into his palm, then left him with the opportunity to become intimately close to my horse’s manure.