Jo McNally - She's Far From Hollywood

“Seriously? I’m raising a crop. Checking the soil, inspecting the plants for insects and disease. Just another day in the life of a farmer, Hollywood.”

She didn’t miss the not-so-subtle jab of that ridiculous nickname. He’d made it clear yesterday he thought she was some prima donna who’d faint dead away at the thought of a little hard labor.

“I was just trying to show an interest, Plowboy.” Two could play the nickname game.

He looked as if he was going to reply, but stopped. He started to turn away then turned back toward her with a fierce expression on his face.

“I saw you with Nell, Tammy and Emily this afternoon, laughing it up on the porch like you belonged there.” Her back stiffened at his insinuation that she didn’t belong. “Everyone around here loves Miss Nell, and you’d do well to remember that. I don’t want you bringing any trouble to her or to my family.”

Bree bristled. “Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know what to think or what your real motivation is. For all I know, cameras are going to come swooping in here at any minute.” He took a step closer, his eyes icy gray and threatening. “You don’t really strike me as the victim type, so maybe you’re just pulling some kind of publicity stunt. I don’t know, and I don’t care, as long as you don’t bring embarrassment to the people I care about.”

He thought she was making up the story about being stalked? That she was here as some kind of joke? This man really was a jackass of major proportions.

“Do you have a computer, or is that too twenty-first century for you?”

“I have a computer. And no, you can’t borrow it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Her hand rested on the knob of the front door and she looked over her shoulder at him. “If you really think my story is some kind of joke, type in the name Nikki Fitzgerald and see what you find.”

“I have better things to do with my time than to look up Hollywood gossip.”

His cool dismissal made her want to stomp her feet in frustration.

“Fine.” She spat the word at him. “You did your good deed and delivered me to Nell’s. Why don’t you just go home and leave me alone?”

He stared at her hard for a long, silent moment. Then he gave another careless shrug.

“No problem, Hollywood. I’m gone.”

He turned away without another word. Maggie looked over her shoulder at Bree and gave a quick wag of her tail, then trotted away at Cole’s side. Bree watched them walk back to the big white house. A porch wrapped around all four sides. Did he live there alone? I wasn’t like she knew anything about the man. She went into the cottage to find more wine. Maybe he was married to some unfortunate woman and had a houseful of grumpy, gray-eyed children. Instead of making her feel better, the thought soured her mood even more.

CHAPTER FOUR

BREE SAT DOWN on the grass in front of Nell’s house Friday afternoon with a loud sigh that morphed into an even louder groan. Every muscle cried out for mercy. Scratches covered her arms and legs, exposed by her denim cutoffs, which had been created when Nell took a pair of scissors to Bree’s three-hundred-dollar designer jeans. Her sweat-soaked lavender tank top was borrowed from Tammy. Her white running shoes were brown with dirt. Her skin was taking on a surprising golden hue already, despite the sunscreen she slathered on every morning and again at lunchtime. Her acrylic nails were cracked and broken. Three were missing entirely, exposing her real fingernails to the air for the first time in years. Rivers of sweat drifted aimlessly down her back in the stifling humidity.

She’d already learned a lot in just a few days working on Nell’s farm. The work had to be done, regardless of sweltering sun or pouring rain or protesting muscles. Animals needed fresh bedding every day. Eggs had to be gathered. The piglets liked to have cool mud to squirm around in. Even though they were out to pasture, cattle needed to be fed and checked routinely. Vegetables needed to be picked at the exact moment of perfect ripeness. And weeds grew like...well, like weeds. Weeds were evil and must be destroyed. She leaned back on her arms and looked up through the thick canopy of leaves on the tree above her. She’d been weeding Nell’s enormous vegetable patch for two hours now, and she still wasn’t finished.

“Darlin’, you look about done in. Why don’t you call it quits for today? You can finish the weeding tomorrow.” Nell was walking toward her with a tall glass of her famous sweet tea. She started to hand it to Bree then frowned. “Oh, honey, you should get up off the grass. You’re sitting right next to a fire ant nest.”

Sure enough, there were already several dots of six-legged misery crawling on her right arm and hand. She jumped up with a squeal and started brushing them away, but they were already biting her. She frantically danced around, slapping and cursing at the tiny pests who bit with the ferocity of lions. When she was free of them at last, she looked up at Nell and saw laughter dancing in the older woman’s eyes.

Bree started to laugh out loud. “It’s not funny! I already have welts on my arms from those little devils! You told me not to sit on the grass, but I was too tired to walk to the porch.”

“Child, it’s too hot to be out here weeding in this sun today. You need to slow down. It isn’t a race, you know. Those weeds aren’t going anywhere.” Nell looked at Bree’s dirty, shattered fingernails and smiled. “You don’t have to keep trying to be the best farm woman ever.”

Nell was always telling her to slow down, but Bree didn’t want to. She needed to be too busy to think about where she was and why. Too busy to think about the guy who wanted to kill her. Too busy to think about the difference between women like Nell and Tammy and the supposed friends she had in Malibu. Too busy to think about the man with the gray eyes who was riding his tractor in the field across the road from her right now. And she needed to make herself tired enough to sleep through the quiet, lonely nights.

She took a long draught of the teeth-clenching sweet tea. It was amazing that something so sweet could be so refreshing on a hot day. It was an even bigger surprise that she was truly enjoying these long days of hard work and easy laughter, and the warm friendship she was developing with Nell. They’d baked together in Nell’s kitchen yesterday, and she already had a deep respect for the woman’s skills. Nell muttered something, and she looked up to see her staring across the road. Bree followed the direction of her gaze and saw Cole in the distance, driving his tractor across the field behind the barns. She stiffened, and Nell noticed.

“He’s a good man, honey. I know he’s a hard man, but he has his reasons. You don’t know where he’s been. What he’s seen. He was hurt serving in Afghanistan, in more ways than one. He’s doing the best he knows how.”

Bree choked down the urge to ask all the questions that were right on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t need to know. Didn’t care. Instead, she changed the subject.

“What time is dinner, Nell?” While they were baking pies yesterday, Nell had suggested the two women should share their evening meals. Nell stared at her for a minute before answering, and she had the distinct impression that the older woman knew she was intentionally avoiding any conversation about Cole.

“Not until around six. Why don’t you go take a shower and a nap?”

“I want to take care of the barn first, then I’ll go shower. I’ll save the sleeping for tonight.” Nights were her most difficult time. The darkness of the countryside was almost smothering, and she jumped at every noise she heard. Her dreams were a restless mix of lurking danger and slate gray eyes. The more tired she was, the better chance she’d sleep through the night undisturbed.