Chapter 4
FOUR
AJAX
The afternoon flies by—there’s always work to be done around the farm, and the time goes past quickly. Too quickly sometimes.
I join the others in the main house for dinner. I’m capable of cooking for myself, but Cookie’s food is so much better. He trained as a chef in the army, and though we eat pretty basic meals, they’re always delicious.
“Still cranky with us?” Digby asks.
I grunt, stabbing a slice of beef with my fork.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Cookie smirks.
“We should go to the pub after dinner. Have a couple of drinks and some male bonding time.”
I roll my eyes. Male bonding time usually involves us all having a beer while they gossip worse than anyone else I’ve ever known.
It makes me miss Shane and Jessie. Jessie keeps these two entertained with her Hollywood stories, and I get to brood all alone.
“You two are so full of shit.”
Cookie laughs. “You know it. But you love us anyway.”
With a shake of my head, I keep eating. Anything to avoid talking. Everyone thinks I’m quiet, but the truth is that I just don’t have much to say. I’d go to the ends of the earth for these guys, but they can be a bit overwhelming at times, and I retreat into my shell because it’s easier.
Once we’ve finished dinner, and the dishwasher’s locked and loaded, we pile into Digby’s truck and head toward the pub. It’s the only nightlife here, but I love living almost in the middle of nowhere.
Living here gives me the peace I never thought I’d find.
It’s pretty busy—all the tables are full, so we walk to the bar.
Cookie nods toward one end. “Those bar stools have our names on them.”
I chuckle. If there wasn’t space, I’d be quite happy to go home and have a quiet night there.
But there is one thing that draws me to this place.
“The usual?”
I shift my gaze across the bar. Ivy Buchanan . If there was a local woman I was interested in, it’d be her.
“That’d be great, doll,” Digby says.
Ivy’s gorgeous—all curves and boobs. And she’s got that spring in her step that I envy. Any enthusiasm I had for, well, anything is long gone.
And she’s at least ten years younger than me.
When the others suggested buying the farm, I was all in. I wanted to get away from any populated areas where I felt judged. And this small community was perfect.
Ivy’s been working here that whole time.
I wonder about her.
I wonder what she does when she’s not working here.
I wonder why she never left for the big smoke—whether to work or go to university.
She’s so vibrant, and we never exchange words beyond me ordering drinks.
But lately, she’s all I’ve thought about.
Which is the other reason why Digby and Cookie’s dating site plan irks me so much. I don’t want to be set up with another woman.
I want Ivy.
I’m not sure I’ll ever dig up the courage to approach her though.
Emma turned my head because she approached me, flattered me, made me feel like I was important. I’ll never fall for that again.
“Ready for your date, then?” Digby asks.
I glare at him. “Only doing this so I can apologise for you two chucklefucks, and because you won’t give me her contact details so I can put a stop to this farce.”
He shrugs. “At least it’ll get you out and socialising again.”
“What do you think I’m doing now?”
“Not with us.”
Ivy places our drinks in front of us. If I have any regrets right now, it’s that she’ll have heard this idiotic conversation.
I meet her gaze. She blushes and looks away, moving down the bar. It’s her reaction every time, and it stings. The only person who ever seemed to see past my scars was Emma, and that was only because she used me to get to Jessie.
Swallowing hard, I look at my glass of beer. Cookie and Digby chat up a storm, but I’m barely listening.
When I look back up, Ivy’s at the other end of the bar, serving someone. My gaze drops to her hips, and I hold in a sigh. What I wouldn’t do to …
No, Ivy’s a pipe dream. I mean, I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend.
Is she married?
The thought hits me like a smack to the head.
No. She can’t be.
There’s no ring, and I’ve never seen her with another man.
But then again, I’ve never seen her outside of the pub.
Who are you, Ivy Buchanan?