12. Sydney
Chapter twelve
Sydney
“I’m going to run and grab Chicken if you want to get comfortable,” Brooks said as he dropped me off in front of his house.
I nodded in silence and hightailed it out of the truck as if it were on fire. When I got inside, I kicked off my shoes and fled to the guest room. As soon as the door was closed behind me, I threw myself onto the bed, tossed my head into the pillow, and screamed. Was it potentially dramatic and the most 90s thing I’d ever done? Yes, but I was finally able to express myself in some way after being trapped with Brooks all day.
After our kiss in the field, I realized how truly fucked I was. I kissed the man whose farm I was meant to bring to ruin. How fucked up was that?
Even so, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips tasted on mine. He was such a good kisser. I was no stranger to being kissed, but it had never felt like that.
Like the bees had stopped buzzing, the breeze had stopped blowing, and the world had stopped spinning. It felt good and free, in a way I’d never felt before.
I had always wanted to feel free, but there was always something holding me back, and it was usually money. It was why I worked so hard to get where I was and still strived for more. However, being here and kissing Brooks gave me the feeling I’d been chasing all this time.
What does it mean?
And what can I do about it?
My head was a mess.
As I was praying for the bed to open up and consume me whole, I heard the door open and the distinct sound of webbed feet slapping the hard floors.
I also listened as Brooks shuffled around. He was doing something in the kitchen, then moved down the hall toward his room. I watched the light shift from under the door as he walked by. It was a bit odd to listen to him clicking around instead of the padding sound human feet made, but I was becoming accustomed to it. It seemed I was becoming accustomed to everything that had to do with Brooks Hoffman.
That led my thoughts right back to that earth-shattering kiss and had me throwing my face into the pillow once more.
A light knock came and pulled me out of my current stupor. “I made dinner if you want some,” he said through the door. Even when I was blatantly ignoring him, he was considerate.
And I was an adult. I could have dinner with someone I’d kissed. It was only a kiss. It was no big deal.
Liar.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said finally, jumping up, trying to hype myself up to go out.
I thought maybe changing would make me feel less like the Sydney who thought kissing Brooks was a good idea. I needed to feel like city-me, so I slipped into one of my skirts, tights, and a nice black blouse. I added cute earrings and brushed my hair until it fell into place.
I wasn’t as comfortable as I had been with looser clothes, but it was what I needed to brave going out there. I took one last look at myself, then made my way to the kitchen.
When I got there, Brooks was shredding some kind of cheese over what looked to be a yummy plate of pasta. Of course he had showered and changed, so he was now shirtless, his toned back fully exposed. Each grating motion made his shoulders flex, making my mouth water.
I am so screwed.
When he turned around, he looked like he was going to say something but stopped himself. His eyes roamed over my body until they landed on my eyes.
“What?” I asked, fidgeting a bit under his gaze.
“N-nothing,” he stuttered.
I took my normal seat at the table and watched as Brooks set the steaming, pesto-covered pasta down in front of me.
“It’s tortellini. Every year my mother takes a huge batch of the flour and spinach we produce and makes tortellini with it for all of us. I’ve been storing it in the freezer and thought it was a good time to break it out.”
“It looks great,” I said, and taking a bite only made me agree more. It was delicious.
We ate in silence, the same way we had at lunch. At least this felt a little less awkward, but that kiss was still lingering heavily around us.
“Tomorrow I thought we could go check out the apple orchard,” Brooks said, breaking the heavy silence. “There aren’t apples this time in the season, of course, but the blossoms are coming in, so it’s still pretty.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I would also need to start thinking about how I was going to sabotage the test. I could slide something into my written report. Buying pesticides and contaminants would be too risky. I could photoshop the images, but that could be traced.
Even considering any of these options made my stomach roll. There had to be another way out of this, but I couldn’t see it right now, so I decided to just do my job and figure the rest out later. There was nothing else I could do at this point.
I just had to hope it would all work out.
It was midday, and the field of apple trees was green and vibrant. They’d just begun to bloom, and a sea of pink and white flowers topped the trees. I was glad to finally be done with the work part of it so I could begin to take photos.
My camera came out of my bag, and I went to snap as many photos as I could. Of the trees, of the individual flowers, of the pretty framing the paths made. And a few sneaky ones of Brooks as he checked on how the trees were doing.
I then took a few of Chicken as he waddled by me. Brooks told me he enjoyed the apple orchard and the pond that rested beside it, so he brought him along. Sometimes he was less like a cat and more like a dog, just following us around, doing his own thing but also taking an interest every time he thought Brooks might have an apple or something in his hand.
He continued walking toward what I assumed to be the pond.
“Hey, I’m going to run to the truck to grab my pruners. Some of the trees are starting to get unruly and come into the path. Are you good for a couple of minutes?”
“Yeah. I’ll probably go check out the pond.”
“Sounds good.” He turned and started walking back down the path.
As he did, I snapped a few photos of him, surrounded by the trees in almost a perfect natural frame. I think if Brooks weren’t so good at running Hoffman Farm, he would have an excellent back-up career as a model.
Once I was done, I walked the opposite way, toward where Chicken went. It took me a little while, but I eventually made it to the opening at the end of the tree rows. It landed me in a grassy area surrounding a pretty body of water. Cattails stuck up out of the edges, and it had a slightly irregular oval shape. I couldn’t see the bottom, but it seemed pretty deep for a pond. The water was a bit murky, but clear enough I could make out the silhouettes of the fish swimming below the surface.
On the other side were the blackberries that we were going to look at next. In the correct seasons, they allowed people to come here and pick their own produce. People apparently loved it and traveled here just for the blackberries. There was something about them that made them extra juicy, I’d read. It was one of the big draws to Hallow’s Cove on tourist sites.
For now, though, I sat on the edge of the pond and took some more photos. I was glad I’d brought another SD card for this trip because I’d filled the other one already, and I might still have a week left.
I took a few of Chicken in the water. He would fluff his feathers, move around, and even dunk his head for a second before coming back up.
It was so peaceful out here, it made me feel like I had a second to think. In the city, there was always so much stimulation that made it easy to ignore my own thoughts. But out here there was only the humming of bugs and Chicken splashing. Though it wasn’t something I was used to, I was beginning to see the upside of it. Maybe once things were over, I could come here on vacation.
Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea. I was here to ruin the beautiful farm I was living on. I didn’t even know what the fuck Preston could want with all this land. He certainly didn’t have any interest in farming, and I didn’t ask when he blackmailed me into this. I couldn’t do anything but agree anyway, so what did it matter?
But every day that passed, every moment I spent with Brooks and his family and in this town made me regret that. I didn’t want to do any of this, but every time I tried to think of a way out, I ended up back at square one. I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening, or I would be fucked anyway.
The wind blew by, a cool spring breeze that fluttered through my hair. I could even smell a bit of Bailey’s body butter I had applied this morning.
I decided to snap a few more of Chicken while he was there. As I was, he bent down below the water’s surface and didn’t come back up. Then he sank lower, putting almost the entire front half of his body in the water.
I expected him to pop back up as he always did, but he just stayed lowered, not moving much. I put the camera down, letting it rest against my chest with the strap around my neck.
“Chicken,” I called. He normally responded to his name, but there was nothing. No feet kicking or moving. Just his body bobbing in the water. Was something wrong with him? I didn’t know anything about ducks. I only knew pigeons, and that knowledge extended to the very small number of fucks they gave about you walking near them.
“Chicken!” I called again, more panicked. I couldn’t tell how long it had been, but it felt like he’d been under for way too long.
“Brooks!” I tried instead, but maybe he was still back at his truck. “Brooks!”
I shifted on my feet, unsure of what to do. If he was drowning and he died, I knew Brooks would be crushed. Hell, I would be crushed at this point. I’d spent every morning listening to him pad across the floor, feeding him treats, and pushing his little ball with the bell around.
I needed to do something quickly. I decided I was going to get him. He couldn’t have much time left. I went to jump into the water. At the last minute, I remembered my camera and tried to take it off and set it aside, but I was already on the bank. It was so slippery, my boot caught, and I couldn’t stop myself from sliding down into the water.