"Oh. Right. Of course." Was it weird that the farmhand knew more about my husband's family than I did? I didn't even know he had a brother. I'd only met his father, sister, and his brother-in-law at our wedding. And apart from his best man, no one else from his side had attended. Not that I cared. The fewer people who knew about this sham of a union, the better.
"I don’t have riding gear here, so I'll order some." It had been a while since I'd taken Alessio's credit card for a good battering. "Say, is there a vet or animal shelter nearby? I would love to pop in and see if they need some volunteers."
"My uncle's a farm vet. Mainly does house calls, but he has a clinic up the road. I can ask him if he needs help."
"Oh, could you? I would love to meet him. Thank you so much." I flashed him a wide smile that had his cheeks turning apple red.
Seven months later, Alessio finally came to see me.
I was in the barn, helping Tom check a chicken whose wing had been damaged.
“He’s such a spritely bugger.” Tom laughed as I struggled to hold the squawking bird. "There, now. All done."
“Poor baby.” I kissed the top of his moving head before releasing it gently.
Tom burst out laughing.
“What?” I quizzed.
“You have a little mud." He pointed to his cheek.
“Please tell me it’s mud and not—”
His fingers reached out and swiped at my cheek. His touch was soft and lingering. “Definitely mud.”
We grinned widely at each other.
“Millie.”
The intruder's voice cut sharply through the jovial atmosphere, quickly turning it tense. I glanced towards that voice. A voice I hadn't heard in close to a year
Alessio Ferrante was at the entrance of the barn. He looked out of place in his designer suit with his designer sunglasses perched in his shirt pocket. He also looked utterly furious as his dark eyes bounced between us, his brow furrowed in question.
“Mr Ferrante.” Tom quickly stood, dusting his pants off.
I rolled my eyes. Tom was behaving as if the Pope himself were visiting. I took my time standing, keeping a steady eye on the chicken as it bobbed close to Alessio. Was it terrible to wish it would poop on his designer loafers?
"Millie." My name was pushed out between clenched teeth. "Could I see you outside?"
I resisted the urge to let out an impatient sigh. I didn't want to put Tom in an awkward position. I'm sure he thought it odd that Alessio hadn't made an appearance for months.
I made my way slowly and reluctantly to Alessio, keeping my face impassive.
Before I followed him out, I swung back to Tom. “Don’t forget, we’re riding later.”
He gave me a tight smile, the light dying from his usually laughing blue eyes.
“You two seem rather cosy.”
I crossed my arms, trying to ignore how handsome he was in the crisp morning sun. “He’s my friend.”
“He’s staff.”
“Don’t be such a bloody snob," I chastised. "Why are you here?”
His dark stare slid over me, and I squirmed under his scrutiny. I felt completely underdressed compared to him, in my long-sleeved chequered shirt, olive-green gilet, jeans, and mud-covered farm boots.
“I was curious," he slowly replied. "Your purchases changed from a small country's budget to wellies, wax jackets, and riding breeches.”
