“Guard donkeys.”
I swear he’s smirking, so I make a mental note to hit Google as soon as I’m back at the house to find out how many farm and ranch animals die from wild-animal attacks every year in Wyoming.
If it wasthatdangerous, and not overblown, induced anxiety on my part, would people really live out here all the time?
Doubt it.
Plus, we’re on the east side of Wyoming. I’m pretty sure there are fewer predators here.
Pretty sure.
Kind of.
He hands Junie the bag of food. “Not poisoned. I promise. That’d be more trouble than it’s worth.”
“My mom isnot dating,” she repeats.
“I don’t date students’ parents.”
She studies him in the gathering darkness. I shoo them both, and when I go to shut the barn doors, Flint helps.
Good thing.
My arms are starting to feel like limp rubber bands.
And I swear he notices when the doorframe shifts. At least, that’s what I assume his sigh means.She’s right. This is a liability hazard.
If he doesn’t pick up on that, though, Iseriouslyneed him not bringing kids out here.
“C’mon,” he says.
We follow him.
And I leave a good twenty feet between us too.
And I’m ogling his ass the entire way.
I have problems.
So many, many problems.
Chapter 9
Flint
The first few weeks of school pass pretty quickly, with everything settling into a normal routine.
The days, anyway.
There are classes with my kids figuring out how far they can push their limits. Soccer practice with June Spencer as our equipment manager, slowly finding where she fits and making friends. Convincing Kory to let me bring a couple of teenagers out to help with the calving to distract them on particularly rough days while I keep working on my principal to get approval for liability insurance so I can take kids back to Wit’s End, where I know there are more fences down and where I can take Parsnip anytime. Grading. Parent-teacher conferences.
Everything I need to keep me happy and busy at work.
And then there are the calls from other friends around town to help replace a microwave or stop in to check on their dogs while they’re out of town filling up what’s left of my free time.
But my nights?
Every time I climb into bed and close my eyes, I see Maisey Spencer swinging a sledgehammer. Sashaying into my classroom in that blue dress. Setting her jaw and talking about finding a purpose. Her eyes lighting up when she smiles at a new friend when she drops June off.The way she run-trots when she’s dashing across the parking lot to drop off the water bottle June forgot at home, then dashes right back to her car before any of the kids notice her.
