After a long hot shower, I walked gingerly out to the car. Turns out as much as I liked doing a certain farmer, hay didn’t agree with me, and I’d broken out in a bright red, very itchy rash.
Cole barely had his jeans buttoned before he kissed me goodbye and ran toward his truck, calling over his shoulder he’d be back in time for dinner. I didn't know what the drama was about, but Zane sounded stressed and Cole was gone before I could ask questions.
After dressing, I walked back to the house taking my time and enjoying the sunshine. It was so beautiful out here. It was quiettoo. I could actually hear myself think. I made it back to the house and sat on the steps watching birds pecking at the grass and chirping loudly. When my phone interrupted my peace, I scrunched up my nose, annoyed.
I dug my phone from my pocket, expecting to see Gabriella checking in on me or maybe even Georgia making some smartass comment about me walking bowlegged or asking how I was enjoying playing cowgirl, but it wasn’t their names on my screen.
Ben: Can I call you?
I read then reread his message. For five whole minutes, I tried to decipher his question before I deleted it without replying. All the stress I’d enjoyed not weighing me down was back with a vengeance.
“Fuck him,” I swore as I stood up and stomped inside, heading straight for the bathroom.
After a hot shower to wash away all the dirt, hay, and sweat, I started feeling a bit more like myself, but I was fidgety. I texted Cole to let him know I was heading into town but I’d be back in a bit.
I checked his fridge, scribbled a list on the back of an envelope, and jumped in my car, a plan already forming.
First stop was the B&B. I wanted to check in and see if they needed any help. I felt bad. I’d come back to Wattle Creek to help and now I was spending all my time shacking up with Cole instead of getting my hands dirty and giving them a break.
“Well, well, well …” Georgia teased as I entered the kitchen to find her elbow-deep kneading dough. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hardy ha ha. You think you’re so funny,” I replied dryly.
“Oh, I know I’m funny. You’ve just forgotten.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s go with that.”
“What are you doing here?” Georgia asked, catching me off-guard. I don't think she was trying to sound nasty, but her tone hurt.
“Gee, don’t you want me here?” I asked, trying to brush off my feelings.
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I just didn’t think we’d see you until tomorrow.”
“I thought I’d check in and see if I could help?” I offered, focusing on the reason I was there.
“We’re all good. Gabriella’s upstairs helping a couple on their honeymoon get settled and I’m just starting dinner.”
It sounded like they had it under control. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Georgia and Gabriella had been doing this for a long time now. Without me. They didn’t need me. And the bitterest part of knowing that was I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, they didn’t need me. They had it down to a fine art.
I walked over and yanked open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine chilling on the door.
“Ah, Grace, what are you doing?” Georgia asked as I filled a glass.
“Oh, sorry. Want one?” I asked, holding up the bottle.
“No thanks. It’s not even three yet. It’s a bit early for me,” Georgia told me.
“Okay. More for me,” I told her as I set the bottle back in the fridge and picked up my glass, taking a huge swig.
It was cool, crisp, and exactly what I needed. As I drank, Georgia kneaded, stretched, and rolled her dough making fresh rolls for dinner. They were the best. Served warm with her homemade herb butter. My mouth watered at the memory. It was one of Mom’s favorite recipes, and even though she’d tried to teach us all, Georgia was the only one who did it any justice.The last time I attempted to make them, they came out more like a concrete block than a bread roll.
I refilled my glass as Georgia slid them into the oven.
“Grace?”
“Yeah”
“Think you need to slow down a bit. Or tell me what’s going on that’s got you knocking back drinks like it’s your twenty-first.”
