Chapter 10 Wesley
Wesley
A few days have passed since my run-in with Shannon, and she hadn’t returned until today – the first time since the morning I drove off with Tristan.
I know when Friday arrives, I won’t be able to avoid her.
I’m just locking up, about to head to work, when I hear her voice in the distance, stopping me in my tracks.
“Ahh, look at you, but you can’t hide out here.” Her voice carries over to where I’m standing.
“No, Daisy,” she coos, and now I’m dying to know who Daisy is.
“Did you get lost, little one?” she asks, her voice calm and warm.
I traipse down the side of her house, half expecting to see a lost toddler.
But no, there she is, standing on her porch in a flowery dress with a ribbon in her hair, but I don’t see a kid.
I’m careful with my steps and lean around the side of her house, trying to get a better look at her back garden.
“What the fuck?” Shannon startles, only just realising I’m there, but I’m no longer paying her any attention. My eyes lock on her visitor, Daisy, as she called it.
“She just showed up. I was coming out the back door, and there she was.” Shannon smiles, as if it’s completely normal to find a random farm animal in her garden. I swallow, trying to figure out a way to break it to her without sending her into a blind panic.
“Shannon, I need you to listen to me.” Keeping my voice firm but calm, taking a step closer, still staying on my side of the low fence that separates our gardens.
I clear my throat. “Don’t make any sudden movements.” Her brows knit together as she glances between me and the animal. Her tongue pokes out to lick her lips.
“Oh, don’t worry, Wesley, I’ve got this.” I shake my head. No, she really hasn’t.
Keeping my voice even, I say, “Shannon, you need to go inside and shut the door.” Her head tips back in laughter, she thinks I’m joking.
“Shannon.” This time, I warn her more firmly. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” I clock the animal properly, no ring through the nose, but its thick solid build is a sign this isn’t no bloody Daisy.
The farmer’s probably out looking for his prize bull, because this fucker is huge, and there she is, standing on her porch, cooing and whispering sweet words like it’s a puppy.
If he wanted to, he’d charge. No doubt about it.
Giving up trying to reason with her, I run around to the front of her house, praying she’s left the door unlocked. Luckily, she has.
Flinging it open, I barrel my way through the empty house and out the back door. Shannon spins, startled, mouth hanging open, but I don’t give her the chance to speak before I’m back in the house with my hand covering her mouth.
She mumbles angry words, warning me to let her go. “Jesus! Stop, Wesley.” I release my grip and step back. She folds her arms, glaring at me. “You’re such a fucking caveman.” She shoves my chest hard, but I stand my ground.
I grip her jaw tight enough to keep her eyes on me. “Yeah, and you see that out there?” I jab a finger towards her garden then turn her head. “He ain’t no fucking Daisy, Shannon.” Pulling open her back door and turning to face her. “It’s a bull. Look.”
She stiffens, her hands flying to her mouth as her eyes lock onto the bull’s very obvious big bollocks. “Shit… we should… we should call someone.”
Nodding, I swipe through the call list on my phone until I find the number for the farm behind us. It barely rings once before someone answers. I hand the phone to Shannon, who’s standing just inside, the door still ajar. “Ask them if they’re missing a bull.”
While Shannon deals with them, I scan the area to find out how he got in. One side of the fence is ripped out and smashed to pieces. He’s come a fair trek to get this far. The saying like a bull at a gate has never felt more accurate.
Carefully, I climb down the steps, holding out my hands in a calming down motion, whispering in a low, steady voice, “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy.” As if I’d stand a chance against this giant beast.
He lowers his big head, but keeps those big, angry yellow eyes on me, brow creasing in a fierce snarl. He doesn’t look away. His nostrils flaring, snorting out a warning, blowing a breath like a bloody steam train. Christ he’s fucking big. Shannon’s one brave lady.
Shit… he’s really fucking angry. I assess the area.
If he charges, I can jump the fence. Fingers crossed he doesn’t decide to follow me.
The last thing we need is a raging bull on the loose.
I try to edge towards the side of the fence nearest the gap he came through, but he’s watching every move.
Christ, I really didn’t think this through.
My palms are sweating, a sure sign I’ve made a very bad decision.
I picture the newspaper headlines. Local man killed by raging bull.
Shannon whisper-shouts from the back door, half hidden behind the doorframe.
“The farmer’s on his way.” I nod, not taking my eyes off the bull. “I asked about his name,” she adds.
Fuck me, she’s serious.
“You know… just in case he’s scared, you can talk to him in a calming voice.
” Now I know she’s taking the piss. I don’t look at her.
“His name is Dozer, which I think is a really stupid name for him.” She tilts her head to the side, assessing him, probably thinking of the perfect name for him, whilst I’m here, trying to avoid getting bulldozed by him.
“Personally, I think he looks more like a Taurus.” She snorts. “Get it?”
“Shannon?” I whisper, but Dozer is getting restless, and I need her to shut up for a minute whilst I try to get myself out of this situation. “Go and wait for the farmer.” She gives me a salute and a little wave to the bull, wandering off without a care in the world.
I’m still trying to keep the big lad calm.
Why I thought I should be the one to face him, I’ve no idea.
Twenty minutes later, I hear a firm voice.
“Here.” Followed by a sharp blast of a whistle.
Dozer turns slightly, the farmer steps forwards, holding out a rope to his farmhand—a young bloke, mid-twenties, messy blonde hair, tight muscle shirt. Shannon stands next to them.
“Your fella’s got some balls,” the farmhand says to her, nodding in my direction.
“Oh, he’s just my neighbour,” she replies.
Right. Yeah. Of course.
Just the neighbour, the one who’s been standing in her garden having a standoff with an angry fucking bull.
The farmhand winks at her. Is he flirting? Why is she blushing? What the hell?
“Erm, a little help here?” I snap, no longer caring if the bull charges at me. At this point, I’m more pissed that farmer bloody Giles is making heart eyes at Shannon, and she’s soaking up his words like a sponge.
Yet, he’s not the one facing a really big bull — he’s standing behind a fence, while daddy farmer blows his fucking whistle.
He climbs the fence and walks towards me like he’s not even slightly wary of Dozer. He glances at me and lets out a snicker.
“Got yourself in a right pickle.” Pulling out the rope, he grips it in both hands.
“Here.” His voice firm, directed at the bull, and in one smooth motion, even I’m impressed with the way he slips the harness over Dozer’s head. “Fake country folk thinking they can tame a bull,” he mutters under his breath. If the bull wasn’t still in front of me, I’d have walloped him.
“Maybe farmers should stay away from fencing and hire professionals?” I click my tongue, looking this fucker up and down. He ignores me, swinging round the front of the animal.
“If I were you, I’d move. He’s not going to be happy.” Taking his advice, I don’t wait and I make a break for it, climbing Shannon’s porch.
An hour later, after the farmer finally gets Dozer into the trailer and secures him, he turns to Shannon.
“Sorry about all the mess, Miss. Let me know if there’s any more damage, and I’ll cover the cost.” The younger one, probably his son, steps forward and holds out his hand to Shannon.
“You were very brave. I can come back after we drop him off and help tidy up your fence?” Before Shannon can say a word, I cut in.
“No need.” I clap him on the shoulder. He’s a good foot shorter than me.
“We’ve got it from here.” Shannon’s about to object, but I take a step back and wave them off.
“Appreciate you coming out so quickly.” The younger one doesn’t look happy, but soon backs off.
Shannon huffs next to me. “What?” Shrugging my shoulders. She lets out a huff and storms towards her front door. I look back at her and can see that she’s scowling.
“He offered to help, and you said no.”
“Correct.” My hand swipes through my hair. “I’m going to fix it for you.”
Shannon scoffs. “You? You’re going to fix my fence?”
I shrug, stepping closer. ”Why not? What’s wrong with me fixing it?”
“Wesley, you don’t even want me here.” Her words hit like a punch to the chest. Before I can reply, she’s already closing the door behind her.
I don’t follow her. What would be the point? I’ve already made it clear I’m an arsehole. So, I do what I should have done hours ago, get in my truck and go to work.
But she’s wrong. The truth is, I do want her here.