So here I am, counting down until I can go home at six. Of course, I want to say goodbye to Alex, but I won’t linger. My skin is itchy and stinging, and I’ve got to get home and put on the heavy-duty ointment.
I call Alex to see if he’ll swing by the shop so I don’t have to go up to the barn, but he doesn’t answer.
Time passes. I tap my nail on the counter for the fiftieth time and check my phone for the tenth. No response. He’s probably doing something superbly adorable, like bottle-feeding a goat or giving a cow a good head scratch.
Finally, it’s six. I’ll go find him.
I lock the shop up before I trudge up the driveway. At the top, I have to stop to “admire the view”—aka catch my breath—before I enter the barn and roam through the building. It’s quiet save for the lowing of cows and bleating of goats.
His truck is still here, so I know he’s around somewhere.
Exiting the barn, I look out over the view again—rolling hills in shades of green, cloud-spotted, bright blue sky. We just had the summer solstice, and the days are getting shorter. It won’t be long before fall colors are on us, and the view from the farm will move from beautiful to drop-dead gorgeous.
Movement catches my eye. There he is. Alex’s familiar shape is down at the bottom of the paddock with someone else, the far paddock that you can’t quite see from the shop. There’s a truck backed up to where they stand with the tailgate down.
The field is empty of animals, so I let myself in the gate at the top and start down the hill. I can talk to Alex, exit the far gate, walk back to the shop, and get my bike to ride out. I’ll be home in no time.
“Alex,” I call down, cupping my hands around my mouth. Alex looks up, and it’s too far to tell for sure, but I swear he smiles at me. It’s good progress—getting Alex to smile instead of frown is like trying to break a habit.
I take long strides down the slope. Ethel recently told me over a shared breakfast that this is a hot spot for sledding in the winter, and I can believe it. It’s steep but grassy, and with a few inches of snow, it’s a wintery playground.
About fifty feet from Alex, he turns to look at me. Perry is the other man with him, and they’re leaning against the fence, real casual, though lord knows what they are talking about here, especially when Alex has a perfectly good office.
My gaze meets Alex’s, and for a moment, I think I am going to get a smile. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, and concern flashes on his face. “Molly, watch out!”
I spin around, thinking maybe a cow is in the pasture and gunning for me, but I don’t even have time to process before my foot slips out from under me and I take a one-two hit, ass over teakettle, and land in a sprawling heap on the grass.
And something smells.
CHAPTER25
ALEX
Perryand I rush over to Molly. I tried to warn her about the cow patty, but I was too late—just like I was too late remembering that I left my phone in the office despite having told her to track me down before she left.
She stepped right into it, and, unfortunately, her downhill momentum kept her moving even after she hit the ground. Her massive bun of curls came to rest directly in the pile of cow shit.
Perry and I land on either side of her.
“Are you okay?” he asks first, brow creased in concern.
“Did you hit your head?” I ask.
Molly’s brows match ours. “Yes? And no?”
“Yes, you’re okay, and no, you didn’t hit your head?” I clarify.
“Right. I mean, I kind of did hit my head, but the ground is pretty soft. Or whatever I landed in…” She raises her head slightly, and her arm comes up.
“I…wouldn’t do that,” I caution her.
Her head falls back with an enormous sigh. “I fell in cow shit, didn’t I?”
“That is the bad news.”
Her eyes close. “It’s all over my hair, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
