Jo McNally - She's Far From Hollywood

“What?” she snapped.

He shook his head in the closest he’d come to amusement in a long time. Baiting her temper was as easy as shooting very big fish in a very small barrel.

“Oh, nothin’. I’m just picturing you settling into Nell’s hundred-year-old bungalow. All by yourself. No Starbucks. No fancy parties to attend. No television cameras. Girl, you’ll die of loneliness out here.”

She turned to stare out the passenger window. Her voice was quiet.

“It’s better than dying in a pool of blood.”

Well, hell. She’d just managed to turn him into a complete jackass, hadn’t she? No, actually he didn’t need her help with that. He’d done it all on his own. After a year of feeling pretty much nothing but anger, he now felt guilty. He winced at the sharpness of it.

“Sorry.” There’s a word he hadn’t said in a while. “I wasn’t making light of your...”

“Situation? My very interesting situation?” She dropped her head back against the seat of his pickup then turned to look at him. “We don’t exactly bring out the best in each other, do we?”

He snorted. “Apparently not.”

Awkward silence filled the cab as he made a few more turns. The roads got progressively smaller and the fields got bigger. He slowed the truck as they approached a yellow farmhouse with a wide front porch. There was a wooden farmstand next to the road with a simple sign that read Nell’s Produce. He glanced over at the stand as he pulled into the gravel driveway. It looked like Nell had a good selection of tomatoes and blueberries today. He snuck another look at Bree and bit back a smile at her wide-eyed expression.

A faded red barn stood behind the house. Chicken and geese wandered the yard. The pigpen was off to the left, and he could see Nell’s big sow, Spot, sunning herself there with her piglets. Two old workhorses were standing in a small paddock to the right, head to rump, swishing their tails rhythmically to keep the flies away. In the fields behind the barn, his own beef cattle were grazing. He leased the pastures from Nell, and she kept an eye on the cows and calves for him. Nell’s huge garden stretched along the far side of the house. She grew enough vegetables to keep her stand well stocked. What she didn’t grow herself, she sold on consignment for area farmers. People drove for miles to buy from Miss Nell, because they knew she sold the best locally-grown produce. She served up her unique country wisdom, homemade sweet tea and amazing baked goods to her customers, most of whom she knew by name.

A rangy hound of indiscriminate origin trotted toward the truck, baying loudly, but his tail wagged in greeting. Cole stepped out and scratched the dog’s ears. Maggie sat up in the truck and watched alertly, staying silent.

“Hey, Shep, how are you, old boy?” He looked back at Bree, who seemed to be in some stage of shock in his truck. “Are you going to sit there all day?”

She looked down at the dog and hesitated.

“Don’t worry about Shep. He’s more welcoming committee than watchdog.”

Bree slid across the seat past Maggie and stepped down out of his side of the truck. The woman was acting as if she’d been dropped in the middle of a dangerous jungle instead of a quiet North Carolina farm. Her ironclad confidence slipped just a little, and her face paled. She was clearly out of her comfort zone here. He should have enjoyed it, but instead he was troubled to see her lose that cloak of brittle anger.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” a woman’s voice cried out from the front porch. “Colton Caldwell! What’s up, darlin’? You get thirsty for some of my sweet tea on this blistering day? I didn’t figure to see you till the end of the week. That miserable old cow of yours won’t be ready to drop her calf for a while yet.”

Nell Patterson’s face was weather-worn, and her hair was more gray than brown, but her slender body moved with the sure strength of someone who worked hard for a living and didn’t give a darn what anyone thought of her. She was wearing cotton shorts and a white blouse, with a bright yellow apron tied around her waist. It struck him as the tall, sturdy woman stepped off the porch that the way Nell carried herself was very similar to Bree’s. Two strong, but very different, women. They’d either kill each other or be friends forever. Nell spotted Bree at his side, and her brown eyes went wide with surprise.

“And you brought company! And isn’t she a pretty thing? Introduce me to your girl, Colton.”

He gave her a crooked smile and shook his head. “She ain’t my girl, Nell. She’s yours. This is your new tenant, Bree Mathews.”

He watched with grudging respect as Bree stifled whatever terror she was feeling about the farm. She painted on a bright smile and stepped forward to extend her hand to Nell. “It’s so nice to see you again, Mrs. Patterson. We didn’t have much opportunity to talk at Caroline’s wedding, but she’s told me wonderful things about you. I appreciate you letting me use your cottage under the circumstances...” Her formal words and tone were swallowed in a bear hug from Nell.

“Oh, I remember you! You planned their wedding reception, didn’t you? Caroline called me this morning and told me why you’re here. Don’t you worry, honey. We’ll keep you safe.” Nell held Bree out at arm’s length and looked sharply between her and Cole. He could see her wheels turning, and he didn’t like it one bit. What kind of scheme was she putting together in that very clever brain of hers? “But of course, this is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Bree looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, didn’t Caroline tell you? I need someone to help me with the farm. It gets so busy in the summer, and I just can’t handle it all on my own.” Cole frowned. Nell was the most capable farm woman he’d ever known, and she abhorred offers of assistance.

Bree started to protest. “Oh, Mrs. Patterson, I’d love to help, but I’m afraid I know nothing about farming. I’m a city girl through and through. I know how to cook vegetables, but I know nothing about growing them. As far as I’m concerned, they magically appear at Whole Foods Market. And animals...well, animals and I don’t get along all that well...”

“First, call me Nell or Miss Nell. And second, don’t be silly. You can learn to grow and pick veggies, and you’ll get along just fine with all the animals. Why look, Shep likes you already.” They all looked down to where Shep was lying close by Bree’s feet. Damned if the dog wasn’t looking up at Bree like she was an angel or something. Maggie sat in his truck with the same adoring expression. What the...?

Nell continued. “The cottage is just one hay field away, so you go get yourself settled, and we’ll talk more tomorrow about what you can do to help around here.”

Cole coughed back a snort, and Bree spun to slice him with her angry eyes. He raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help being amused at the thought of you sloppin’ hogs and picking tomatoes and feeding those one-ton horses over there.” He nodded toward Pete and Ruby, Nell’s elderly and famously gentle horses. Bree’s back stiffened, and he knew he’d struck home with his not-so-subtle suggestion that she couldn’t possibly be a farmer. But just look at her, for heaven’s sake.

“Are you saying you don’t think I can do it?”

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I said I didn’t know anything about farming. I didn’t say I couldn’t do it if I wanted to.” She turned to Nell, and he couldn’t miss the stubborn set of her chin. The woman didn’t seem capable of turning down a challenge. “Nell, I look forward to learning more about your farm.”