Chapter Three
Posey
“Batman, you little shit. Get over here.” I chase behind the buck who somehow got loose and when I finally catch up to him, laughter echoes behind me.
My spine straightens when I recognize who it belongs to.
What the hell is he doing here?
You’d think after I basically word-vomitted my distaste for him on the phone yesterday, he would’ve gotten the hint.
Apparently not.
Maisie texted after I hung up to tell me Silas explained his side of the story but she wanted mine. I gave her the short version, which was similar enough to Silas’s, so she knew he was telling the truth even if it made him look bad.
I might have overreacted a bit when she asked about him staying in my spare bedroom, but I was so taken off guard that my anger and frustration with him came out before I could stop myself.
“Posey.”
The deep timbre of his voice saying my name sends a shiver through me, which I hate, but can’t deny after all these years he still has an effect on me. Even if it’s unwanted.
I’ve spent the past eight years trying to forget him. And the details of our night together.
“Whaddya want, Silas?” I ask harshly, opening the gate and directing the goat inside the fence. I need to get back to work, but I don’t want him to follow me inside the barn.
“I was hopin’ we could talk.”
When I spin to face him, I regret it. His tight T-shirt shows off his muscular biceps, with one arm now full of tattoos, and the rest of him looking hot as usual.
But there’s a pitiful sadness about him. His expression is full of remorse that I’d usually ignore.
I’ve purposely avoided having to see him because I knew my traitorous heart couldn’t handle it. You’d think after all this time, I’d get over my attraction to him.
“So talk…” I demand.
“Could we go somewhere? Maybe for a drive or walk?” He shoves his hands in his pockets and sweat builds along his hairline.
He’s nervous.
Good.
I place my hand on my hips. “I’m workin’ right now.”
My shirt’s covered in coconut oil and my hair smells like lye and hay. The last thing I want is to be in close quarters with him while I reek of chemicals.
“Do you get a lunch break? I could come back.”
“Not really.” I shrug, losing my patience. “I’m shortstaffed.”
“Are you hirin’? Could I apply?”
I bark out a laugh, crossing my arms. “You need a job too?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Pinning him with my stare, I contemplate how to respond. “Do you have any experience?”
“I was a contractor for the past two years and built houses. Before that I worked in construction. I don’t have goat-related experience, but I’m a hard worker who’s used to being in the heat for long hours. I’m also a quick learner and will catch on to whatever you need me to do.”
I consider his words for all of three seconds. “So you’re a city boy thinkin’ you can work a ranch job.”
His forehead wrinkles in protest. “I wouldn’t necessarily—”
“It wasn’t a question.”
His mouth snaps shut.
“Sorry, I need someone with animal experience, but thanks for stoppin’ by!” I turn on my heel to walk away, grabbing an empty bucket on my way to the barn.
“Posey, wait. Please?”
The desperate plea in his voice has me stopping in my tracks.
“I’m sorry. I’m truly, so very sorry for how things happened between us. If you give me a chance, I’ll prove it to you. And I know that my word might not be enough, but I’ll do anythin’ to make it up to you.”
He thinks I’m still mad about what happened years ago.
Although a part of me is upset that my first time having sex is tainted with the memory of thinking he didn’t remember and then dangled the possibility of being together in front of me like a carrot before telling me he was dating someone else, it’s not the only reason I’ve stayed away from him all these years.
“Anything?” I spin around, arching a brow.
“Yes. I’ll do all the grunt work and more. Whatever you need.”
That gives me an idea.
“Fine, I’ll give you a week trial.”
His eyes widen in excitement. “Seriously?”
“Don’t be too happy yet. You’ll be beggin’ me for mercy by the time the week ends.”
“It’s a goat farm.” He chuckles. “How hard can it be?”
Oh, Silas Mathiesen…you’re about to eat your words.
“Do you have any idea what we do here? No, you don’t, so let me fill you in…
” I continue speaking before he can interrupt me.
“I’ll walk you through a typical day for my staff.
Aside from the basics of feedin’ and carin’ for the goats, we milk ’em, then clean and maintain all the equipment.
We monitor their health and wellbeing on top of maintainin’ farm records for each goat. Then there’s breedin’ season.”
“Breedin’?”
“Yes, when a mommy goat and daddy goat love each other, they make a baby goat. Well, technically, they’re called kids.
But anyway, keep up.” I sigh, regretting my decision already.
“There’s filterin’ and pasteurizin’ the milk, which then gets distributed—some for goat milk we sell to local businesses and some we freeze for goat soap—which is another whole process from beginning to end.
It’s a lot of hands-on and teamwork. It’s messy and dirty but—”
“I can handle it,” he states confidently.
“Fine.” I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Can you start now?”
He licks his lips, glancing down at his clothes. “Uh, sure.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
He scrambles to follow me into the barn and before I can warn him to watch where he walks, he steps in goat shit.
“Don’t wear your favorite boots to work next time,” I demand. “You’ll need waterproof rubber boots. Somethin’ easy to rinse off and walk through mud.”
“I didn’t know you’d—”
I raise a brow that dares him to argue with me.
“Noted. I’ll be more prepared tomorrow.”
Looks like he’s a fast learner, after all.
After introducing Silas to the staff, I give him a pitchfork and shovel, then put him on mucking duty.
“Hey Ian,” I call him over from where he’s watching Silas.
He’s my right-hand man who’s been with me since day one. When I got the approval from Dad to open a goat farm, I hired Ian to help me get things started. He supervises most of the staff while I run the goat soap business, Langston Soapworks.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Remember how Sheila broke your heart when she started sleepin’ with your stepbrother?”
He deadpans. “Yeah?”
“And how you wanted revenge on ’em?”
He crosses his arms, studying me. “Where you goin’ with this?”
“I want you to give Silas the revenge treatment. He should be cryin’ and wantin’ to quit by the end of the week, got it?”
A smirk forms across his tan face. “Do I get to know why I’m torturin’ this poor man?”
“Let’s just say, he deserves it.” I pat him on the shoulder. “And you get to pretend he’s Kyle. Or Sheila. Hell, both if you want.”
Ian’s stepbrother not only stole his fiancée from him but then knocked her up while they were still engaged. He’s worked through it, mostly, but there’s still some resentment left inside him and he’s dying to take it out on someone.
His grin widens. “You’re evil, Posey.”
“Trust me, it’ll be good for him.” I wink, and he walks away shaking his head, but I know he’s gonna enjoy it.
Silas thinks working on a goat farm is easy peasy and we’re about to show him exactly what it takes.
I should take the highroad or at the very least be professional.
But if he wants to make it up to me, then he can start by getting dirty and sweaty.
Walking down to my office at the end of the barn, I grab a cold water bottle from the mini fridge and a work shirt from the cupboard.
Even if he’s here for a week, I don’t need him passing out on my watch.
Then I find some spare boots that may or may not fit him before finding Silas knee-deep in straw.
“Here,” I say, grabbing his attention. “You’ll wanna bring a tumbler or jug of water with you from now on. That way you can refill it throughout the day, but for now, I brought you this.” I hand him the plastic bottle.
And that’s as professional as he’s getting from me.
“Thanks.” He opens it and chugs half of it down.
“I guessed your sizes, so hopefully the shirt and boots fit. If not, well, too bad since it’s all I had.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up slightly. “I’ll make it work, boss.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
“Oh, I thought I was supposed to.” His gaze shifts to Ian, which means he overheard him calling me that.
“Ian’s the farm supervisor, so you’ll report to him. He’s the only one who calls me that. He thinks it’s funny.” I shake my head. “Technically, my father is the boss since he pays the employees. I manage the goat soap business.”
“Got it.” Silas smirks, yanking off his T-shirt and giving me a full view of his chest.
His full tattoo sleeve of flowers and vines spread across his shoulder and down his pec, merging into a compass surrounded by roses and trees. It’s breathtaking.
“When did you get that?” I blurt, unable to take my eyes off it.
His chest was bare the last time I saw him shirtless.
He follows my gaze, looking down. “About five or six years ago. After I finished my arm, I wanted somethin’ larger on my chest.”
“It’s a compass.”
My eyes snap to his. He knows I have a thing for compasses ever since my great-grandmother passed hers down to me when I was in high school.
Her house was covered in compass-themed decor.
Every time I see one, I think about her and how much of an impact she had on my childhood, which is why I got my own compass tattoo.
I was her first great-granddaughter, so she spent a lot of time spoiling me and teaching me random things about life. Her husband died before I was born, so I never met him, but she loved talking about him.
The night we hooked up, we talked a little about his tattoos, and I confessed I wanted one, but since then, he hadn’t seen it.
“Do you like it?” he asks when I grow silent.
I hate it.
It’s too similar to mine.
“What made you get that, Silas?”