CHAPTER THREE
ALEX
I drop the last stack of folded clothes onto my bed, then flop onto the couch with a sigh. Unpacking feels endless, and my back is starting to ache. I grab my phone to scroll for a minute. Oh, a text. From Finley.
I blink at the screen, eyebrows shooting up. Wow. “Man, this guy is a grumpy old grouch.”
Ok.
Short. Neutral. If he wants to be gruff, I can be gruff.
I toss my phone onto the cushion beside me, sink deeper into the couch, and let out a breath. Tomorrow is going to be… interesting.
My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Opal. My bestie.
Want to get some dinner tonight?
I smile. Perfect, I haven’t seen much of Opal since she’s been with Kellan, and I quit work at Nook the smell of steak and garlic sails through the air as I slide into the booth across from Opal and Kellan.
A basket of bread sits in the center of the table, and I eagerly take one, layering it in butter.
“So,” Opal says brushing a strand of her black hair behind her ear. “How’s the apartment?”
“It’s good! Quiet, different, but good.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come help move, I have been so busy now that I’m back in school. And…I’m writing a novel!” Opal announces with a grin.
“Oh my gosh, Opal! That’s great, I’m so happy for you! Don’t forget about me when you’re looking for alpha readers.”
She nods. “So, what’s the plan for thanksgiving this year… with your parents gone on their great adventure.”
“I really don’t know what I’m going to do to be honest,” I say, frowning.
“Why don’t we do it at our house?” Opal says, turning to Kellan.
He nods, shoving another fry into his mouth. “Sounds good to me, I’ll fry a turkey.”
My shoulders relax and I grin, “Sounds great, Opal, I’d love that.”
Opal tilts her head, “how’s the market going, Alex?”
I sigh, looking down at my alfredo. “Oh… its going fine.”
“Uh-oh, what’s going on?” Kellan asks before biting into his burger.
“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just a grumpy old farmer. Oak & Rye’s biggest vendor isn’t exactly thrilled to work with me.” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Well, soon, he will see that you’re more than capable.” She offers me a sympathetic smile.
“Yeah, I sure hope you’re right. I meet with him tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll do just fine I’m sure of it.” She assures.
“Remember that those vendors need you just as much as you need them.” Kellan adds.
I smile at the server as he clears the table. “Thanks for dinner, guys.”
“Anytime,” Opal says as she squeezes me tight. “I’ll have to come by this week and check out the apartment.”
“Yeah, I’d love that.”
The chilly air stings my cheeks as we step outside into the parking lot.
“Send me your rough draft as you work, I want live updates and all the smutty parts!” I yell across the parking lot.
Sliding into the driver’s seat I let out a long breath. My phone buzzes. Opal.
Drive safe, and don’t let that grump intimidate you tomorrow. Love you.
The knot in my stomach loosens a little at her words. I smile and start the engine.
My fingers shake as I button my white silk blouse. I smooth my skirt and let out a shaky breath. Walking out of my bedroom, I grab the cardigan, my keys, and my bag.
I look down at my phone after locking my apartment door—10:22. “Shit.” I hiss as I dash down the steps.
Don’t be late.
Well sir grump a lot, my name is Alex and I’m always late.
I am going to try my best to be on time, if not early. If traffic allows. Surely on a random Tuesday it can’t be too bad.
I type the farm address into my GPS—twenty-seven minutes. Okay cool. Totally not going to be late.
I frown as I pass the Starbucks to my left. Not enough time for a Pecan Crunch Iced Latte.
“Almost there,” I mutter, turning onto to a dirt road. “Great.” Dust kicks up immediately, coating the windshield in a pale film. I sigh, shaking my head. “Guess I’ll be getting a car wash after this.”
The road bumps along for what feels like forever, the autumn fields opening up on either side. The ground looks softer up ahead, like sugar sand. My car should be fine, just a little sand.
Or maybe not.
The tires spin, kicking up dust, and the car lurches before sinking into the thick ruts. I press the gas a little harder. The engine revs, the wheels spin, and I go nowhere.
“No, no, no…” My fingers tighten around the steering wheel. I try shifting into reverse. The car jerks back an inch, then digs itself deeper.
My heart starts to climb into my throat. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I glance at the numbers on the dash. 10:48. I’m supposed to be there in twelve minutes. If I even make it there.
I grab my phone and stare at the screen, debating. Do I call him? Do I try to figure this out myself? My stomach twists, panic, and embarrassment creeping along the edges of my thoughts.
I could call Kellan, have him help me, go home, pretend this never happened and tell Finley something came up.
“Perfect first impression, Alex,” I mutter under my breath.
I let out a long, frustrated sigh, grab my phone, and shove the door open. The air outside smells of hay and a hint of something unpleasant. I circle around to the front of the car, crouch, and snap a picture of my front tire—half buried in sand.
Back at the driver’s side, I lean against the door and stare at the photo. I type out a message, erase it, and type again. Finally, I type out a message, attach the photo, and hit send.
Running late, stuck in the middle of your road.
I slip the car into neutral and shove my shoulder against the driver’s side door. And push with everything I have.
The car doesn’t move an inch. My boots slide uselessly beneath me, and I groan between my heavy breaths.
Out of breath and more than a little desperate, I climb back inside and pull up my browser. My fingers tap across the screen. How to get car unstuck from sand.
Dozens of results pop up. I skim them—rock it back and forth, try putting something under the tire, let air out of the tires. Air out of the tires? Huh.
I squint down the stretch of road, the late morning sun bouncing off something metallic. Slowly, the shape of a large truck comes into focus through the rays of sunlight and dust.
“Please be nice,” I murmur, brushing my hair out of my face as I step away from my car. “Please don’t yell at me for blocking the way.”
The truck grows larger, the engines roar filling the road. It rolls to a stop in front of me and the door swings open.
The man who steps out is huge—taller than the truck he exited. Muscles flex under a tan t-shirt, the dirt-stained fabric stretches across a broad chest. Short, mahogany brown hair, a thick beard framing a sharp jaw, and—oh. A little curl of chest hair peeks out of the collar. My throat goes dry.
Wow. He might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
And when his blue eyes meet mine. For a second, I swear my heart stops beating. My mouth opens but no words come out.
He doesn’t bother filling the silence. Just walks past me. He bends down to look under the car, his back muscles flexing beneath his shirt.
The truck dips and bounces as he grabs something from the bed. Thick rope with heavy hooks on each end.
Without so much as a glance my way he fixes one hook to the front of his truck. Then he moves to my car, attaching the other. Still no words.
I clear my throat, desperate to break the silence. “Did your boss at the farm send you?” I manage to say without stuttering.
He pauses mid-motion, then lifts his head. His gaze locks with mine, sharp and so blue.
“I don’t have a boss.”
The words roll out low and rugged, gravelly enough to scrape against my nerves almost making my knees weak. Heat creeps up my neck.
“Oh.” I manage.
He turns back to the rope, giving it a final tug before walking back to his truck. He opens the truck door and flicks his hand in a back-and-forth motion signaling for me to move.
I scurry back into the field behind me. He shifts into gear, and the rope tightens as he rolls back, my SUV rocks, then begins to inch forward.
Within seconds my car is free, sitting solidly on firmer ground. My shoulders sag with relief.