I hurried back to the cottage, more excited than I should have been about the day ahead. For heaven’s sake—Jack and I could hardly spend five minutes together without getting on each other’s nerves. But something about this felt like a victory to me.
I’d blown up at him by mistake—my plan had been to kill him with kindness, but instead I’d spied on him before calling him moody and uncooperative. But he was so frustrating! I was trying to help him!
The strange thing was, he hadn’t seemed that angry about the whole tree incident. In fact, he’d seemed almost amused by the whole thing—I could’ve sworn I almost saw him smile at one point.
Why that had me grinning I had no idea.
Inside the cottage, I peeled off my damp running clothes and decided, in the interest of saving time, not to shower. I didn’t want Jack to use tardiness as an excuse not to show me around today, and it’s not like I had to worry about him getting close. I’d never met a man so uncomfortable being next to me. He was always backing up or moving away, crossing his arms over his chest.
I pulled on fresh underwear and socks, my skinny jeans and a plaid button-down, and tugged the elastic from my ponytail. In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth, braided my hair and unzipped my makeup bag.
Then I caught myself.
What are you doing, Margot? This isn’t a date. You don’t need mascara in a barn.
I zipped it back up, but I did put on my pearl necklace…and a spritz of perfume.
A girl’s got to have a hint of pretty, right?
Right before I left, I yanked on my old riding boots, thankful I hadn’t given them away. They were beautiful brown leather, and still had plenty of wear left.
I raced out the door just fifteen minutes after I rushed in, and headed out to the car, pleased with myself. Not only would I learn more about the farm, which would help me do my job, but I’d get the chance to prove to Jack that I wasn’t the enemy. I respected his work and honestly wanted to help. And if it made him look at me in a more favorable light, well…so much the better.
I was determined to make him smile for real.
Eleven
Jack
“Are you sure about this?” Margot peeked into the first nesting box, where three eggs sat in the hay.
“Yes. You just reach in, take the eggs, and put them in your basket.” I’d thought gathering eggs might be an easy place for her to start, but Christ Almighty, I was beginning to wonder if even that was too much for her. She was such a city girl—although she did look cute in her tight jeans and little plaid shirt, and I liked the way she wore her hair in one long braid down her back. Her boots were hilarious, though—some sort of equestrian riding boots that looked like they belonged in a movie about a rich girl who has her own show pony. At least she hadn’t put makeup on.
But believe it or not, she had put on the pearl necklace.
It was killing me.
“Come on,” I prodded, annoyed more with myself than her. “Get the eggs, we have work to do.”
“Won’t they get mad?” She looked around the coop, nervously eyeing the hens about our feet.
“No. They’re used to it.”
“OK.” She reached in and took out two eggs, then laid them gently in the basket. “I did it!” she said, smiling proudly.
I nearly smiled back before I caught myself. “Good job. Now keep going. Or we’re going to be here all day.”
She took the third one out, gingerly placed it next to the others and studied them. “So do the brown chickens lay the brown eggs and the white ones the white eggs?”
“No. You can tell what color eggs a chicken will lay by the color of her ears.”
Her eyes bugged. “No way!”
“Yes. Now come on, work faster. Like this.” I reached into the next box, quickly pulled three eggs out with one hand, put them in the basket, and moved on to another.
“Wow, you’re really good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice. Now you do the next one.”