THE GREAT ARRANGEMENT

Darcy Matthews was known for being a tough party girl in the past. After a night of drinking too much Prosecco, the woman, now 26 years old and a mother, became paralyzed.I couldn't remember the last time drinking made me feel this awful; my mouth was dry, my head was pounding, and I was positive that I'd had some stroke while sleeping. To add insult to injury, I couldn't recall how I got home. What the hell? I wasn't even home! I slowly opened my eyes to survey the damage, and to my relief, I saw that I was in my living room; I wasn't in my bed, but I was at home. I was spread down on the rug by the fire, and although the rug was comfortable, it would cause me problems with my back in the future. As I struggled to keep my eyes open, I noticed that Kerry appeared to be lifeless while she was sitting on my sofa.My voice was so raspy that I couldn't even recognize it when I mumbled, "Kerry.""KERRY." Oh, sh*t, maybe she's already passed away!I didn't have the strength to get up and c

As soon as I stepped into the renovated barn, I was shocked. It was up to date and very tidy. I walked back out to the car to carry some things in, and while I did so, I sought the cranky farmer. Since he appeared to be of an age that prevented him from being the farmer himself, I concluded he was a farmhand of some type. In addition, the farmer was aware that we were going to arrive, and he was also aware that we were going to evaluate his property, so I assumed that he won't be as impolite to us when we first met him. When looking for a job, I researched and found out about this farm. It was a long-established and reputable farm that had won numerous honors for its products and maintained good standards for its animals. The farm was not known to have ever failed an inspection.Kerry continued to whine as she pulled her large luggage inside the building while muttering, "I can't believe that jackass didn't offer to assist with the baggage." "I will be submitting a scathing review for

When I answered it, it was Kiran on the other end. I quietly left the rowdy pub to take it with me and went outside."Hi," I said, sounding as unassuming as I could manage. I secretly hoped that my guilt at envisioning another man wouldn't be obvious to everyone else. "How is the newborn doing?""He's doing well and had a productive day at the nursery. I was in bed by seven, so you didn't really miss out on anything.""Aw, I really do miss him. Tomorrow night, I'm going to make an effort to call and tell him a tale before bed. Because my workplace had recently arranged for some networking drinks to take place tonight, I am obliged to go with all of the most eligible farmers in Edinburgh. There is no response. What exactly was the matter with my husband?He was unharmed until he eventually uttered, "Sounds like hell." "I will let you proceed with the rest of your evening then. Remember that you're supposed to work, so don't go too wild.""What exactly are you trying to say with that?"

I remain silent and allow him to elaborate on his "favor." From how he walks and moves, I can tell he is uncomfortable asking for help."I need some extra time to do the farm evaluation. Here we go, then! I wish he had been more interested in Coprophilia."Why is that?" I lose it; I can't keep my temper from flaring. I had a sudden pang of guilt, wondering whether he tried to sleep with me to get this favor.To the papers before him, he averts his gaze. I'm not in the best place mentally; my dad passed away a month ago, and I've been left to cope with everything on my own.I knew a farm was changing ownership, but I didn't know it was this one. There was no acceptable reason to fall behind in work; problems at home were not acceptable, nor were the inherent dangers of working on a farm.The speaker said, "Look, I don't believe we can - "Just ignore my question; it's none of my business. Perhaps a disastrous first evaluation is needed to prove to everyone that "I can do this."As his

My heart is racing, and I feel queasy when I knock on the farmhouse door. I am about to lose it as Rory walks through the door wearing nothing but pants. I take a few deep breaths, one in each nostril, and slowly follow him into his kitchen. I'm amazed at his cooking skills right now. He is a present that keeps on giving.I'm assuming you're a spaghetti fan.I give a polite nod, covering up how amazed I really am. To cover his broad shoulders, he walks over to the chair his t-shirt is draped over and does so. Don't worry about me; I nearly always end up talking out loud. He responds, and I can tell by the look on my face that I am not pleased.He excuses his absence of a t-shirt by saying sheepishly, "I didn't want to get spaghetti sauce on it."I can't help but remark, "It smells great." As I cross the sizzling pan, the aroma fills my lungs. Can we skip the small talk and get right to business? I am interested as to how much of a time commitment it will take to organize all of his pa