Riv's Sanctuary - A.G. Wilde Page 0,36

work.

He began shoveling uneaten hay and grain while the animals mostly ignored him.

He moved with the efficiency of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

“So,” she said, “you do all this work alone? No one to help you?”

Riv paused and looked her way.

His brows weren’t beneath his shades now but they were starting to go there the longer he looked her way.

It was almost as if he’d gone into his head while working and forgotten she’d been watching him.

“I couldn’t do all this work alone. I sucked at doing anything manual. Not that I didn’t try or anything.” She paused. “I worked in a bank back on Earth. I was an investment banker. But I guess we were alike, a little.” She smiled at him. “I farmed for great portfolios and interest rates. You farm for…” She tilted her head and shrugged. “I don’t know what you farm for.”

Riv’s brows were beneath his brows now and she resisted a chuckle.

She was talking too much.

And, the funny thing about it was that, even though she knew he couldn’t understand her, she couldn’t stop speaking.

A year without having anyone to speak to had been torture. She realized that now.

For the most part, she’d talked to herself to keep from going crazy. But right now, she never valued the gift of conversation more—even if it was with a guy who clearly didn’t like her.

So she kept talking, lowering her voice so she wasn’t bothering him, and told him about her job back on Earth, of the clients she remembered, and her coworkers.

She told him of her parents and her friends, of her little two-seater car and her horrible neighbors.

Whatever came to her mind, she spoke about it and by the end of the day, when the sun began going down, she felt surprisingly fulfilled.

Talking was indeed therapy.

When Riv set his rake down and turned to look at her, brows still beneath his shades, she knew he’d had enough of her and it was time to go inside.

He moved toward the gate then, his eyes on her even though she couldn’t see them. She could feel them, though.

That intense gaze of his was locked on her.

He paused at the gate and gave her a long look and Lauren found herself swallowing hard.

Suddenly, his presence was overpowering.

When he’d been moving around the enclosure and not directly beside her, she could almost forget that he was the large, dangerous male that had opened her box and snarled at her.

But now that was coming back to her.

It was coming back to her really quickly, for in his silence there was danger lurking—a bit like how a snake could be silent and then launch itself at you suddenly.

Without a word, he exited the enclosure, slammed the gate shut and walked toward the main building.

She guessed she should follow him then?

14

Entering the main building, the dog trailing behind her, Lauren stepped into the corridor of the dwelling and headed to the front room where she'd held her host at gunpoint.

There was no sound other than her own movements through the space and, once again, she wondered where he’d disappeared to.

He didn't seem to want to spend even a second longer than necessary in her presence.

But the fact that he left her alone to fend for herself must mean that he trusted her, right?...if even just a little. Either that or he just didn't care what she did or what happened to her. She could try running away and leaving his farm and she doubted he would bat an eye in her absence.

Resting herself into one of the chairs by the table, her feet drummed on the floor as she waited. The dog, Grot, came and rested in front of her, laying on its side, its four eyes blinking at her before it looked off uninterestedly.

Well, at least he was better company than his owner...who was still missing.

"I wonder where your owner is," she murmured, and Grot's focus came back to her. "Do you know where he went off to?"

The dog didn't answer. Instead, it looked away again, it’s eyes reflecting boredom.

Lauren chuckled slightly. "You know, when I was young, we had a Golden Retriever and I used to talk to him all the time. Ask him about his day, tell him about my problems...you know, the typical things you talk to a dog about. One day my father saw me talking to the dog." She leaned down on her elbows, her face resting in her palms. "I was