“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” I say. So classy, I know, but it’s the only thing I can manage.
“Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to tuck everyone into bed.”
“Tuck them into bed?” I ask in shock. All the animals get blankets?
“Yeah. With blankets.”
“Do the pigs get blankets?”
“We only have two pigs, but yes. Everyone gets a blanket.”
“A pig in a blanket.” I can’t help but laugh at my weak joke.
“Yes. And a horse, two cows, a donkey, a turkey, two chickens, two sheep, a lamb, a big white dog, and a cat. I’m going to be late getting in since I was late to get home. Thanks for picking the place up. I really appreciate it. And for the financial help.”
“The meddling, you mean.”
“The help,” she repeats.
It’s a miracle I manage to exit the barn right side up. Apparently, fences aren’t the only hazard around here. My entire body is throbbing like it’s no longer the right side up, but maybe that’s just because all the blood flow is being siphoned by my brain again. Because of, you know. Obvious things. Going on. With my junk. Again.
Becki has no shortage of smiles to give out. She has no shortage of kindness, compassion, and goodness, and I realize it’s what makes her seem unreal. Like a fairy. And so very beautiful. It’s also what makes her so darn attractive—her huge freaking smile, her huge freaking heart, and her huge freaking spirit.
This was supposed to be about the farm, wasn’t it? That’s what my grandfather had in mind, but now, I’m no longer so sure. My grandfather was one heck of a smart old man. He was smart as the dickens and much, much smarter than I’ll ever be. I no longer know what his true intent was, which could mean worse things for me than landing upside down in a fence.
CHAPTER 8
Becki
I couldn’t be more surprised to find Finn in the kitchen when I get up shortly after five the next morning, even if I had been the one to trip over that fence in the backyard and end up ass end to the sky.
I blink at him, rubbing the sleep clinging to my eyes. I can feel my face getting hot because I just came straight down to the kitchen without even bothering to brush my hair or wash my face or anything, and I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes. I was going to have a cup of coffee, get some breakfast, then go upstairs and get cleaned up as I don’t see any sense in having a shower or brushing my teeth until I’ve eaten. Plus, toothpaste makes the coffee taste funny, and I love my coffee.
“I…wow,” I gasp as soon as I realize I’m not alone.
Finn is sitting at the big farmhouse table on the other side of the bank of kitchen cabinets, and the coffee is already made. I don’t know why my nose didn’t tell me that on the way down the hall. But probably it’s because I’m too tired from tossing and turning and dreaming weird dreams all last night to be anything close to an approximation of a human being at the moment.
“I said I’d help you, and while I know I also said the mornings would be reserved for my work, it means getting up earlier. If you get up at five, I can get up at five.”
Finn is way too peppy to continue this conversation. I give him three days tops, and I bet he’ll be sleeping in until seven or eight again.
I grab a mug from the cupboard and pour myself a cup of coffee. I have coconut milk creamer in the fridge, which I add liberally. I then stand at the counter, sipping the rich, black coffee. I usually don’t make it so strong, but it’s good like this. I pretend to be absorbed in the coffee because after last night, I’m a little bit flustered, and I can’t look at Finn.
Let’s just say the dreams weren’t even close to being PG-rated—dreams about Finn. I know this is just my subconscious penciling Finn in because it’s been like, oh, let’s say around a year since I’ve…ahem, well, treated my lady bits to a girl’s night out.
Thinking about my really sad love life makes me uncomfortable because I’ve never been good at dating, even before I had the sanctuary to worry about. I enjoyed my time with my friends, and I still do, even though it’s fewer and further between now that everyone is busy. So yeah. What I’m trying to say is that the dreams last night weren’t my fault because they were dreams, and I couldn’t control them.
I also shouldn’t be thinking about them because my va-jay is clearly enjoying the memory, and I’m standing here in the middle of the kitchen with Finn looking at me while my nipples are pointing out that the kitchen tap is useful for water as they harden into sharp points, and he can probably also tell what I’m thinking. In a burst of panic, I angle away so he can barely see any part of me, and hopefully, it just looks like I’m thinking about something while staring at the cupboards.