“I think the park service picked me because they were looking for people who were into sustainable farming. They were looking for people who were young, because the farmers in this country are aging. And they were also looking for people willing to open their farms to the public in order to educate them about resource preservation.”
“And you checked all the boxes?”
“Yes.”
“What business plan did you pitch?”
He scowled, wishing she’d go and leave him alone.
She laughed. “Be nice! Didn’t you just say that part of your job is to open your farm and educate the public?”
She had a point. “I told them I was planning a farm-to-table breakfast restaurant. That I’d grow much of the restaurant’s food here and sell the rest to visitors.”
Gracefully, she rose and moved to stand at the porch rail, looking out. A breeze rustled her hair.
He walked a few paces onto the porch, turning just enough to take in the scene she was studying. Behind the house at their backs, a wooded hill rose steeply toward the sky. In front of the house, the earth rolled gently down to a wide valley that held the farm road Genevieve had been driving the other night when she’d made the bad decision to stop.
Shade from the porch roof protected them from the sun pouring onto the meadow. The long rows of the garden he’d worked so hard to develop marked the earth a good distance away, on the lower side of the meadow. Near the garden, which butted up against the tree line separating his house from the guesthouse in the next meadow over, a simple farm stand waited to open for weekend business.
“If that’s all, I have some things to do around here this afternoon,” he stated.
“Do you love it here?” she asked.
He paused. “Usually, yes.”
“By that, do you mean that you love it here when uninvited women aren’t pestering you?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Are you the only person who lives on the property?”
“I am.”
“Ever get lonely?”
Yep. I’m lonely every hour of every day.“No.” That single syllable was easier than trying to explain to this high-maintenance person he was lonely in a way that was deep, complete, and undisturbed. She’d find fault with that. But that’s how he wanted it. “Why are you here?” he asked.
She faced him. He’d forgotten how bright her hazel eyes were against her perfect milky skin. “I’m here because I’d like to rent your cottage.”
His brows crushed down. “It’s not available for rent.”
“I realize that. But I went and had another look at the cottage when I arrived at the farm a few hours ago. You’d locked the door—”
“I locked it the second you left.”
“—but I was able to peek in the windows and inspect the outside. It’s adorable. And, as I recall, it has electricity.”
“It’s not for rent.”
“Does the plumbing work?”
“Yes.”
“A/C and heat?”
“Yes.”
“Dishwasher?”
