CHAPTER THREE

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 this on travel advisor," you said.

As we unpacked our belongings and made ourselves comfortable, we concluded that we needed to go out and get some food and booze. This was a vacation for me, and I planned to treat it as such. For the next few weeks, there would be no interruptions to my sleep, no toddlers coming into my bed at six in the morning, and no temper tantrums at bedtime. In addition, Kerry got the hot tub ready for our arrival by turning it on before we left.

After searching for a grocery for twenty minutes, we finally located one, purchased everything we required, and made a beeline for the hot tub. Kerry yelled, "Let's get fucking mortal!" as she cracked the bottle of prosecco. "Let's go, mortal!"

"No," I stated in agreement. "Let's have a few drinks to be courteous with one another before we have to be professionals in the morning."

"All right, you uninteresting biatch here's to a couple beers and an early night."

Those infamous parting remarks! After two hours, with the music blasting and the prosecco flowing, we finally got into the groove of things in the hot tub. I chuckled and said, "So this happens when you're a mom while you're not on duty!" As we giggled and sang along to the music, it was like a scene from the Hangover. In fact, we did a decent job mimicking a Beyoncé performance.

A deep booming voice said, "You've got to be fucking kidding me," and it was quite loud. We both leaped in astonishment, but our shock was immediately replaced by laughter when we spotted the same irate farmhand.

Kerry giggled as she sat alluringly on the edge of the hot tub and urged the other person to "Oh, come on, lighten up and join us." However, he had none of it, and the wretched handsome bastard was too enraged to care.

"It's midday. I have to get up in four hours for the life of me! He got into position to turn off the electricity to the hot tub as he moved closer.

I said to him as I gave him the "death gaze," "Come on, don't be such a miserable guy. We will keep the music down," and then I laughed. Even if I did want him to take control of all of my dreams, there was no need for him to act so aggressively toward me. There was no need for it.

My remark caused him to look in my direction, and when he did, he furrowed his brows and refrained from providing a response. "Did you just refer to me as a scoundrel?"

I nodded, but I knew I didn't want to go this route. What is the name of Jesus? Were we thinking when we realized that we were about to lose our jobs and be evicted from where we were staying?

I said, "Look, we're sorry, we've had a bit too much to drink. We will go to our beds and say our goodnights," while attempting to seem sober and responsible. "Look, we've had too much to drink," I said. After giving the nod, he got up to depart. Even though he was all cleaned up at this point, I couldn't get the mental image of him in the shower with the water pouring over his sweaty, muscled, and bronzed body out of my head. Though I hadn't seen him grin yet, I got the impression that he would be even more alluring when he did.

Kerry chuckled as he disappeared from view and said, "Oh, look at you." "Where are the Darcy that I have come to know and love?"

As I started to step out of the hot tub, I grinned and said, "Come on, I have an idea." After drying myself with a towel, I slipped my big t-shirt over my wet costume and went out the door. Because Kerry was so intoxicated, she did nothing except sit around in her swimsuit and slide about on her sandals.

"Be my follower." I had an incredible thought, and even in my inebriated state, it was incredible. If I did it now, I would regret it tomorrow.

I yelled after Kerry to "Get in" as I hurried towards her with a wheelbarrow left outside the farmhouse. "Get in!" I screamed to her.

"Holy motherf***er! "You're going to kill me!" she yelled at him. But she did it anyhow since she is a good sport and always does it. As we made our way toward home, we were laughing uncontrollably. I pulled the wheelbarrow as Kerry hung her legs over the cart's edge. I noticed that the lights in the far rooms of the large home were turned on, so I proceeded in that direction.

"Are you kidding me? Kerry yelled behind me, "He would go mad if he caught us!" but I disregarded her request to pay attention to her. As we hurried through the entry, the light turned on, and the door opened at the same moment the wheelbarrow toppled over. Kerry quickly got to her feet and fled the scene, leaving me to fend for myself. I was paralyzed in the place as I waited for the repercussions of my foolish and intoxicated behavior to play out.

I closed my eyes in the vain hope that it would be the farmer and that I would be able to fib my way out of the situation, but of course, it was the grouchy old curmudgeon. And he appeared more grumpy than he ever had before.

As his muscles labored to hoist the wheelbarrow back onto its wheels, I observed him as he exclaimed, "What the hell" as he came to remove the wheelbarrow from me. I was confused by his response.

I yelled, "I'll take it back," as I tugged the bag's handles. During our game of tug of war over the stupid wheelbarrow, my hand accidentally made uncomfortable contact with his. I was standing so close to him that I could smell the soap he had used to wash his face. I took a deep breath and prayed that he hadn't seen me acting in a stalker-like manner.

"Are you Darcy?" He inquired as he was standing next to him and leaning on the wheelbarrow that he had recovered earlier.

"Is that what you're asking?"

"Hello, my name is Rory, and I own the Stable farm."

I couldn't help but laugh at the possibility that he was the owner because we had scared the poor guy so much that there was no way he could be the owner. He could, right?

"Really?" I inquired while drilling my gaze further into him to unearth the truth.

He responded in a matter-of-fact tone, saying, "Yeah, really." It's good that you're cute because if you weren't, you'd be shopping for other accommodations the next day.

"Excuse me," I protested to the person. I can't believe he just called me adorable. I may have fantasies about him, but as a married woman, he had no right to make statements of that nature to me.

"Yes, I heard you, just get back to the barn and make sure to keep it zipped. If you two give me any more difficulty, I will have to go to your employer about it, and they are the ones who are paying for the pleasure of you remaining here.

As I returned to the barn, I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my neck and shoulders. "What an arse," I said under my breath.

"I heard that!" he yelled out. "I heard that!"