Chapter 2 #2
On Monday through Friday, the production crew would have free rein of Judd’s Family Orchard—except my parents’ home, as well as my cabin on the opposite side of the property.
We had a contract and everything. They wouldn’t damage our crops or equipment or outbuildings, and they had to provide a shooting schedule in advance.
There would be no impacting our weekend business or impeding upon our private spaces.
We had a film liaison who kept us apprised of any updates or pertinent information, but I was making Candace deal with all that.
Quite frankly, I didn’t want to see or manage any part of this.
I needed to tend to my duties, keep my apple trees healthy, and protect our legacy from whatever hell we’d wrought by making a very lucrative deal with the devil.
But already the lines were getting blurred. First, there had been that production crew guy poking around the property a few days ago, and now I was somehow playing tour guide for one of their kids.
I shook my head, swiping at the blood on my knuckle one last time before getting back to work.
The following morning left me chilled as I jogged the familiar path between my small cabin and my parents’ house.
I generally ran every morning, then joined my dad for coffee before showering and changing to start my workday on the farm.
My sister, Candace, jogged with me a few days a week for at least part of my run, but I knew she was busy this morning with wedding plans.
Candace ran our social media, public outreach, and education program.
She scheduled events, gave presentations, and handled the tour groups.
It was the perfect role for her since she was friendly and personable.
Unlike me, Candace genuinely enjoyed working with the public.
After returning to Kirby Falls two summers ago, she had decided to stay for good.
A big part of her decision to remain in our hometown was Mark Mercer, my longtime co-worker and friend. The two had fallen in love, and now Candace finally felt like she had a place where she belonged.
They were getting married next month, and I couldn’t be happier for them. They made a good match—balanced each other out in a way I never would have expected. I could see how love and romance worked for some people, but I’d never experienced it personally.
I was glad my little sister was back, but our relationship was a work in progress. We had nine years separating us, and our personalities hadn’t always meshed. Actually, that wasn’t true. It was my personality that was the problem.
I was often too severe and exacting. The term “ballbuster” had been bandied about.
I didn’t care much about people pleasing, and I had no problem saying exactly what I meant.
That didn’t always make for good relationships or easy connections.
I wasn’t friendly, but I was trying where Candace was concerned.
I hadn’t always made her feel welcome here on the farm; however, I was working hard to correct that mistake.
She was my sister, and familial loyalty was in my wheelhouse.
I would do anything for Candace—and Brady too.
My siblings, my parents, and this farm were the most important things in the world to me.
But I was the sort of person who didn’t leave a lot of space for anything else.
I had my priorities and my responsibilities, and if you weren’t on the list, then my energy rarely extended far enough to reach you.
I had friends who’d mostly elbowed their way in as Candace’s and Brady’s spheres had grown to encompass significant others and their families.
I was grateful for those relationships, too.
People were patient with me. They accepted that I didn’t talk much, and when I did, I wasn’t subtle. They accepted me, full stop.
Maybe that’s what friendship really was. When you stopped trying to find a place for someone in your life and just let them take up the space they occupied.
I breathed out a plume of warm air into the chilly expanse as I fought to clear my mind. Typically, I used my run as a time to reset and center myself, to focus on the day ahead. I was distracted, though. The farm had always been the one constant in my life, but so many things were changing.
While I still worked with Mercer and Brady and Candace and my parents most days, this next season would be a difficult adjustment. The whole movie thing was a disruption, and I wanted it to be over and done with.
Yes, I’d agreed to it when my family had put the decision to a vote months ago. But that didn’t mean I had to like the interruption to my daily life, the noise, or the new people coming and going.
Speaking of new people coming my way. I squinted into the foggy November morning as a hulking form materialized. My brows pulled together in annoyance as the man smiled cheerfully and waved.
“Hello again,” he called.
It was the lurker from the other day. Whatever-his-name-was with the stamina problem. He was wearing his sunglasses again, but he’d substituted the ball cap for a toboggan. The gray knitted fabric covered his ears and all of his dark hair.
I had every intention of running right by him, but he turned and fell into step next to me on the dirt path.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked. I could feel him watching me, even with the shades over his eyes.
I kept my gaze forward, but noted that he left a respectable distance between us, which I appreciated. “Would it matter if I said yes?”
He chuckled like I’d told a funny joke. “So, we’re neighbors,” he managed, clearly struggling for breath as he both ran and spoke. “Isn’t that great? I just love small towns. Everyone is so friendly.”
That earned him some side-eye. He was either oblivious or trying to get a reaction out of me. While the majority of Kirby Falls was mighty neighborly, no one had ever accused me of it.
I made a sound that was a cross between a hum and a grunt of agreement.
The stranger continued, undaunted by my lack of participation. “I love it out here. The mountains, the quiet. We don’t have air like this in LA.” As if to demonstrate or maybe to simply remain conscious, he struggled through a large inhale. “Makes me want to grow a beard.”
My eyes slid in his direction again. Be a shame to cover up that Dudley Do-Right jawline, I thought to myself.
“I’m Ian, by the way,” he panted happily, calling to mind an eager golden retriever puppy.
“So you keep reminding me.”
I could feel the power of his grin directed toward the side of my face.
But I didn’t owe this man anything, least of all my name.
No matter what he said, we weren’t neighbors.
He was here temporarily, an inconvenience and a minor blip in my small-town life.
Like he was trying on someone else’s shoes and attempting to run a mile in them.
Although if he struggled with small-town living as much as he was struggling through this morning’s workout, he might be headed back to Hollywood sooner rather than later.
Seriously, what was this guy’s deal? He was absurdly fit.
Even I, a perpetually single woman who was uninterested in dating, could appreciate the wide assortment of muscles bulging beneath his workout pants and long-sleeved pullover.
His biceps bunched, and his calves strained the seams of the fabric.
He had to be at least six foot three and built like Superman.
I couldn’t understand how a man with a body sculpted from hours upon hours in a fancy gym somewhere could be so bad at jogging down a dirt path.
“Do you run here every day, or are you just stalking me?” he asked suddenly.
I turned my head sharply to glare, but he was already smiling—or maybe he was still smiling. Did he ever turn that thing off?
“Not that I’m complaining,” he added hurriedly, undeterred by my obvious annoyance. “I read a romance novel that started with well-meaning stalking. Lots of obsessive pining. I was into it.”
I blinked, thinking my book club had read that one too, and I hadn’t hated it.
“I’m not stalking you. I work here,” I grumbled.
“Me too,” he replied brightly. “We have so much in common.”
“You work nearby. Temporarily. It’s not the same.”
“Ah.” He sucked in another fast breath. “You’re a stickler. I might have known.”
I fought the urge to up my pace and leave this joker in the dust. Maybe that was why I wasn’t intimidated by his size or presence. He was bigger and stronger, sure. But I could easily outrun him.
Instead of hightailing it out of there, I found myself saying, “You know, it might be easier to breathe if you weren’t constantly talking.”
As if on cue, his grin went supernova. Straight white teeth practically blinded me. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I like to yap. I am a certified yapper.”
“Great,” I replied flatly.
Ian chuckled again.
After a few blessed minutes of silence, the only sounds the scuff of our sneakers, morning birdcall, and his labored breathing, Ian spoke up.
“I was actually wondering if you wouldn’t mind having a running partner.
I’d like to work some cardio into my routine while I’m here, and get better at this.
You obviously know what you’re doing. I’m a fast learner, and I can try to keep my yapping to a minimum. ”
“You want to run with me?”
“Well, sure,” he said, like it was obvious.
But I wasn’t getting it.
“Why?” I asked, incredulously. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet, at least.”
I watched his face for a moment, trying to make sense of his request. A bead of sweat made its way down his temple and cheek before dripping off that blade of a jawline.
This guy was young—had to be in his twenties.
He was objectively attractive. Was he a serial killer?
A cult leader? Or worse, trying to sell me supplements?
I didn’t trust what I couldn’t understand, and the motivations of this outsider were a total mystery to me.