“Is that what you plan to wear on your feet while you’re here?” I ask and cut her off. I’m in no mood to defend what I do here or explain how important it is to me for people to buy local to make farming profitable and sustainable for our entire community. Instead, I let my gaze slide downward. When I realize I’m lingering a little too long on her pink-painted toenails, I jerk my head up. Dark lashes blink over wary eyes, and damn if I don’t get the sense that this girl needs a friend. I’m not sure why that twists me up inside.
“The airline lost my luggage, but I have to confess, I don’t have anything appropriate for farming. Do, uh, do you know where can I get proper footwear and attire?”
I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Down on Main Street. But it’s closed right now. Definitely not the kind of clothes you’re used to. Maybe you should just make use of Jack’s things for the next couple days.”
She frowns, and her shoulders drop. “I know you think I’m ridiculous.”
“I never said that.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to counter but instead tugs on the collar of her shirt. Worried blue eyes search my face. “So you don’t think Jack would mind that I borrowed this?”
My insides soften at her concern for her late uncle. “He wouldn’t have minded at all. He would have liked it actually.”
She hesitates for a brief second. What other worries are going through that pretty head of hers? Probably a ton. She’s in quite the predicament, and I probably shouldn’t get too involved in her world. She’ll be gone sooner rather than later. Yeah, it’s best I keep at arm’s length while she’s here. My mother has other ideas for me—obviously. I get what she was doing with the pie—but I’ll straighten her out on that the second I see her.
She points to the small kitchen and big farmhouse table in the other room. “What’s all this for?”
“Jack made jams and preserves, as well as lunches for the visitors. He hired a local to help him in the kitchen when things were busy.” Lines form around her mouth and tighten as she looks downward. I get it: cooking isn’t in her wheelhouse, either. I pat the file. “Her contact information is in this file if you want to reach out to her.”
“I should probably be okay.” A forced laugh catches in her throat as she holds up her phone like it’s her lifeline, and I suspect it is. “Google.”
She might be a lot of things—everything about her screams pampered socialite, and I know the type all too well—but she’s tenacious and has a kind heart. But farming is hard work, and something tells me this city girl wouldn’t know a day’s labor if it jumped up and smacked her in the face. If that’s not enough to drive her away by the end of the week, she’s a city girl—like my ex-fiancée. Juanita lasted all of four weeks.
“You, ah, want to stay and have a piece of pie?” she asks.
“My brother’s birthday was today, and I already had a slice, but thanks.”
Her lids lift, her eyes brightening. “You have a brother?”
“Two. Tyler and Beck. I’m sure they’ll be around later to annoy you.” She grins. “You have siblings?” I ask.
“No, it’s just me. I always wanted siblings, though. But it wasn’t in the cards.”
“You can have mine, they’re a huge pain in my ass.” She laughs at that, and I step out from behind the counter. I shove my hands into my pockets. “You want me to show you around Jack’s place before I go?” I’ll always think of it as Jack’s place. I can’t think of it as Alyson’s place if she’s not staying.
She takes one last look around the barn. “Sure, why not?”
I lift my hand and gesture for her to follow. “Come on.”
I shut the double doors on the barn, and we make our way to the play area.
“You already met my rooster, Cluck. I’ll have a talk with him about bothering you.”
“You’ll have a talk with him?” A grin plays with the corners of her mouth. “What are you, the rooster whisperer?”
I roll my eyes and feign insult. “I’ll have you know my talents aren’t just limited to roosters.”
“I can believe that,” she says. “You can probably charm the eggs from a chicken.”