I nod in agreement. “Right, scare it off.” I want to ask how, but I’m tired of coming off like I know nothing.
“Ever shoot a gun?”
“God, no.” I cringe at the thought of shooting a weapon. With my luck, I’m liable to lose a foot or worse.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and get off a good shot. Then you can set him up right beside Mr. Beaver here.”
That thought totally disturbs me. “Ugh, can we please change the subject?”
He chuckles. “Okay, know what that smell is?”
I take a huge breath and scope out the massive orchard. “Regret and manure?”
He laughs out loud this time. “No, hazelnut. Thought you could use a decent cup.” I glance at the mug in my hand, having totally forgotten about it. Wow, this guy really has the ability to throw me off if he made me forget about coffee. That’s definitely not good.
“It’s black,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you liked milk or sugar.”
“It’s perfect,” I say. “Is this some kind of peace offering? A truce for trying to drown me?” I joke. “Or making comments about my lacy underwear?”
He groans, and his shoulders sag. “Haven’t we moved past that?”
“I don’t know, Jay. This smells good, but it might take more than a cup of coffee to get on my good side.” I’m kidding, of course, but the fine lines under his eyes deepen.
“I’m just being neighborly. Around these parts, that’s what folks do, and the stuff Jack drank was so strong, it could knock out Chuck Norris.”
“Don’t you mean Cluck Norris?” I tease as I gratefully take a big sip of the coffee. “That is so good,” I moan and with both hands I cradle the cup like it’s a priceless diamond from Tiffany & Co. Much like the diamond my ex Bradley put on my friend’s finger instead of mine.
Jay shifts his stance, and his body stiffens as I continue to worship my coffee and moan as I breathe in the hazelnut scent. After a moment, he clears his throat and says, “For the record, I didn’t name Cluck.”
I arch a brow, and with a hint of sassiness, I ask, “Not that clever?”
He dips his head, and his gaze narrows in on me, zero playfulness on his face. In fact, there’s a gleam in his eyes, and it’s warning me to tread carefully. “You want to learn how to milk a cow or not?” he asks.
“Not,” I say and grin up at him.
This time he laughs and nudges me with his shoulder. “Come on, it’s not so bad.”
“Way to sell it, Jay.” I glance out at the barn and give an exaggerated sigh. “I mean, you could have at least said it’s going to be the time of my life.”
“No can do. Farmers are honest folk, remember,” he says, and I smile, enjoying the easy banter between us, even at the crack of dawn.
“Your honesty is kind of refreshing, actually,” I say. When he continues to watch me, I add, “A lot of fake people live in my world and it’s nice to know when someone is looking you in the face, they’re not plotting ways to stab you in the back.”
He goes quiet for a moment, and I get the sense he knows exactly what I’m talking about. Has he been stabbed in the back? Not that I’m about to ask or get personal with him. He snaps himself out of whatever trance he was in and jerks his head toward the market.
“Jack keeps the buckets in the barn,” he says, getting right down to business. “We need to get a cloth and warm water to wash Sidney before we milk her. After we milk her, we send her out to the pasture for the day. She comes in at night. There is feed for all the other animals in the barn. I notice the fence around your perimeter is splintering. You’ll need to fix that, so the animals don’t wander off. Have you met Princess Lay-A yet?”
“Princess Who-A?”
“Lay-A.” He spells it for me. “She’s the top hen here. There’s a pecking order,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “Pretty clever after all, huh?”
“Ingenious, Jay,” I tease.
“She can be nasty, so you’ll have to watch her around the other chickens.”
“Will do.” Trying not to feel completely overwhelmed here as we head toward the market, I go up on my toes to walk delicately, determined not to face-plant again.