Chapter 5 Eve
EVE
The municipal building is on the far side of town, past the shops and the inns and the restaurants that make up the most bustling areas. It has a stone facade and large, heavy wooden doors with their original knockers, well-worn with time.
Today they're propped open as the town filters in, neighbors and shop owners greeting each other easily. Members of the town council wander, popping in and out of conversations while gently herding the growing crowd into their seats.
“Eve!”
The sound of my name has me searching for my girl group.
Tabby, who owns the town’s tea shop, and Rory, who owns the flower shop a few doors down, always come to town meetings, since it’s generally the best place to find out about upcoming town events or other business that might affect their shops.
Izzy and I pop in and out when we need to, mostly because I’m on the outskirts of town, so the only events that really affect me are ones that the farm participates in.
Halloween hayrides for the littles who aren’t quite old enough to go on the town’s scary hayride.
The sunflower festival that results in dozens of tractors full of people visiting the farm.
And Izzy comes because all her friends are here.
She waves me over, patting the seat next to her, and Tabby grins as I sit, her face lighting up. “Are you going to get in a fight with the mayor again? All I’m asking is for a heads up because last time I really wanted some popcorn for that show.”
“No,” I say. “That wasn’t a fight. It was a strongly worded request to protect the sunflower farm that has unfortunately not been granted.”
She purses her lips, tucking a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear. Her eyes are glued to mine, glistening with the prospect of good gossip. “Uh-oh. What happened?”
Mayor Reed’s voice booms out across the room as he bangs his gavel on the podium. “If everyone could please find your seats and settle down.”
I lean across Izzy so I can speak to Tabby, my voice lowered. “Asshole who bought the land next to me waltzed onto the farm in his fucking loafers to measure my stream. Measure. Not protect. He’s not interested in protecting anything, just covering his ass.”
She raises her eyebrows. “And he’s still alive?”
I give her a tight smile. “Not for long, if I have anything to do with it.”
“Ladies,” Mayor Reed booms, eyeing us. I wave him off in lieu of flipping him the bird because I recognize that while he did not uphold his end of the deal, I still need him on my side.
“Sorry, Reed,” Rory calls out.
He nods. “We have a packed agenda today, so let’s get started.”
He rubs his hands together as his attention turns to the topic list in front of him. He runs a hand through his graying hair, his expressive face giving some minor reaction to every topic he lists out for the group.
When he finishes, he glances up at the room. “Do we have any additions we want to add to the list before we start?”
I raise my hand. “The development being built next to the sunflower farm,” I shout, before he can call on anyone else.
He eyes me over his reading glasses. “Ms. Harper, is this related to last month’s request?”
“Yes,” I say.
He pauses, eyeing me before scribbling a note on his agenda.
“The development next to the sunflower farm has been added to the end of the agenda,” he confirms, which is really just his way of letting me know I had better be prepared to wait through the next three hours of useless fights between neighbors, road closures announcements, and event preparations.
But a life of waiting for flowers to bloom means a few measly hours in a town meeting is easier than a Friday morning for me.
“I take it that’s also why you’re here again, Mr. Blackwell?”
I whip around, following Mayor Reed’s line of sight, and see Ryder Blackwell in the back of the room. He nods confidently, his arms crossed.
And… what the fuck is he wearing?
Apparently he’s had a total change in personality, because he looks like he’s from here. Well-worn jeans that grip thick thighs. A flannel over a gray T-shirt that highlights his biceps in a truly uncomfortable way. Work boots that actually have some mud on them.
He was freshly shaven the last time I saw him, but now there’s a smattering of stubble across his chin. Where his hair was gelled before, it’s just the littlest bit messy. A mild morning after look.
I don’t realize I’m gawking until my eyes have dipped fully to his boots and back up to that chiseled face of his.
And he’s staring at me.
Smirking at me.
Like he knows my lizard brain just switched on and now wants to eat him up.
I’m appreciative of the boom in tourism this town has experienced over the past few years, but that doesn’t mean I want to take any of them home. Tourists are great for business and it means everyone in town is doing better than before.
But when a pompous Manhattanite shows up on my farm without permission and starts measuring things, I like them much less.
Except now the pompous Manhattanite is dressed like he might actually be able to hold his own on a farm.
While my logical brain knows that the way a person is dressed is absolutely no indication of what they can do, some primal part of me wants to have him shirtless in the sun planting sunflower seeds.
And maybe the sprinklers accidentally come on a few minutes early and oh no, your jeans are all soaked!
I shake my head, quickly facing forward and focusing all of my attention on Mayor Reed instead, who has proceeded to the first line item of the agenda.
Izzy elbows me, and when I turn to face the girls, all three of them are grinning.
“You could have told us the developer was a smoke show,” Tabby says, glancing back at him.
Rory, who’s usually the quietest of our group, starts panting. She leans over and lowers her voice. “I’d let him develop my land, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, Rory!”
She looks over her shoulder at him again, then shakes her head as she focuses on Mayor Reed.
“All I’m saying,” Izzy takes over, “is that I have an idea about how you can protect the sunflower farm. It involves that man, much less clothing, and a little bit of whipped cream. Something tells me you’ll come to a very satisfying resolution.”
I can’t help my snort, and I elbow her before she can continue.
“Ladies,” Mayor Reed says, interrupting himself in the middle of his sentence.
“Sorry,” I say, waving at him.
“Something you want to share with the group?”
“I’d share him if you know what I’m saying,” Izzy murmurs, and the four of us break into a fresh fit of laughter.
“No,” I say over them. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” Tabby calls.
I struggle to keep a straight face as I focus on Mayor Reed. Izzy and Tabby’s snickers gradually fade away, and when I think no one is paying attention to me, I turn, searching first and foremost for the clock on the wall in the back of the room.
And when my eyes land on him instead, he doesn’t look away.
He only raises an eyebrow as if to ask why I can’t stop staring.
By the time the meeting circles back to me, half of the attendees have already left.
Rory and Tabby ducked out after a twenty-minute debate over Mr. Frederick’s fence line, claiming they needed wine to replenish the brain cells they lost listening to it, but Izzy stayed to support me, even though I insisted I didn’t need it.
And Ryder Blackwell, of course, is still in the back of the room.
I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.
And as yet another neighbor-on-neighbor argument breaks out, I swear I can feel his breath on my neck too. A hard wall of chest muscle behind me. Thick thighs underneath me.
You know, it’s really inappropriate that men wear things like gray T-shirts and flannels out in public. If women get shamed for showing a little stomach or leg, men should get the same for wearing things like that.
Especially because it’s not him. If some local guy showed up on my farm looking like that, I’d just pull him right into the bungalow and have my way with him.
The only attractive men my age who show up on the farm are escorting wives or girlfriends, so the fact that he’s roleplaying my fantasy is a little bit unfair.
Like he just reached into my brain and plucked out the thing that makes me go all mushy.
“Ms. Harper,” Mayor Reed says, turning his attention to me. Somewhere in my subconscious, I register the squeak of a chair moving. Footsteps behind me.
I sit up, giving him my most awake smile despite it being long past my albeit early bedtime.
“I wanted to confirm that there will be protections put in place prior to work being started on the development next door. Specifically, the stream that powers the water wheel. Mr. Blackwell assured me they are taking frequent measurements of the water level, but as far as I know, measuring something isn’t the same as protecting it. ”
“Well, Ms. Harper, measurements have to be taken prior to work happening or else no one knows whether the stream has been protected or not,” Mayor Reed says, seemingly taking the words right out of Ryder’s mouth.
“Right, but measuring is not the same as protecting,” I repeat, letting out a quick burst of air to alleviate the tightness growing in my chest. “Mr. Blackwell mentioned that the stream will have to be diverted, and while I understand the need for measurements, I don’t think it’s good enough to have a plan to divert the stream without having a matching plan to preserve it.
That plan is the one I’m interested in.”
Mayor Reed shrugs, his eyes flicking behind me. “Mr. Blackwell, thoughts?”