Chapter 7
SEVEN
“ Now I must give one smirk, and we may be rational again.”
~Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
E lle sat at her desk at the Little Red Barn daydreaming about a boy like a teenaged girl. Nope, not a boy. Clayton. A man. She hadn’t done that since high school when she fantasized about Noah Wilson. This was not the behavior of a thirty-six-year-old woman. Groaning, she dropped her head to the desk’s surface knowing that at sixteen or thirty-six, a woman could be susceptible to infatuation. And she was infected.
The vibration of her iPhone disturbed her internal debate.Raising her head, she read the latest updates in her group text with Willa and Viet.
Viet:How’s day one of teleworking from the sticks going?
Elle:Good. Smiley emoji.
Willa: Did you have to use carrier pigeons for your emails?
Elle:No, we have pony express.
She silently laughed, inserting a racehorse emoji.
Willa: Glad it’s going well. How’s hot farmer?
Viet:HOT FARMER?!
Her fingers hovered, as she thought how to respond.
Elle:We went running this morning.
Within seconds her phone buzzed with a video call request from Willa, which Elle accepted. “That was quick.”
“I’m adding Viet, so hold on,” Willa said.
Elle could make out the picture of the red sailboat drifting on calm waves that was a focal point of Willa’s office.
Viet’s angled face appeared. “I repeat. Hot farmer?”
“Turns out hot farmer is not a farmer, but a veterinarian, my temporary landlord, and Jerome’s best man. I know him from high school.”
“OMG! You’re living in a Hallmark movie!” Willa swooned, throwing her head back dramatically, caramel locks tumbling.
“Wait, there’s really a hot farmer?” Viet’s mouth puckered.
“Dude! Keep up. She met him when she was attacked by the goat.”
“You were attacked by a goat?” He bounced like he needed to pee.
“Yup.”
“Welcome to Perry,” Viet chuckled.
Unlike Willa, Viet had been to Perry a few times when they were in undergrad. They would drive down for a quick dinner or family event once in a great while. By the end of their four years of college, Elle chose to travel to Perry less and less often.
“So, you went running with the…I’m still going to call him hot farmer… this morning? Did you get sweaty?” Willa’s voice dropped low and her face contorted to suggest something far more vigorous than a morning run.
“We ran. We talked. It was nice.” Elle touched the petals of the large golden blooms basking in the afternoon sunshine. It was sweet how he got fresh bouquets for his guests each week. Sunflowers were perfect. They were simple, lovely, and grew wild. Like Clayton.
“What’s that?” Willa pointed.
“What?” Elle twisted, half expecting someone or something behind her.
“That look on your face.”
“What look?”
“That ‘there’s a piece of cake I want’ look,” Viet joined in.
“And by cake, he means dick.” Willa held up a highlighter in a lewd gesture, making Viet and Elle groan.
“I don’t know if I want the cake,” Elle paused, taking in a slow breath. “I also don’t know that I don’t want the cake.”
“Now I want cake.” Willa nibbled her bottom lip.
“You always want cake,” Viet taunted.
Willa lifted a manicured middle finger in reply.
Waving off Willa’s non-verbal insult, he continued, “I know you and cake, Elle. You’ll find any excuse not to have it. Too many calories. Not enough calories. It will go stale. It has?—”
“Tiny coconuts,” Willa interrupted.
“Exactly! Although, that one is valid. Elle, have the cake or don’t. Just be open to cake.”
Should I? It had been so long since Elle had cake. The metaphor stirred hunger pains in her belly and a clenching in her lady bits.