“I’ll let you out later when we’re closed, got it?”
Cluck.
I roll my eyes, then check on the other chickens—who are all snug in their enclosure—before locking it back up. I go through my routine of setting boards and bricks in front of the door and covering any little spot Tootsie could climb through. When I’m satisfied she won’t get out again, I take the time to check in on the other animals on the property.
When I envisioned owning a cidery, it didn’t include a farm, but when this place came up for sale in my hometown, no less, I knew it was perfect, even if it came with a bunch of animals.
Thank fuck the old guy who sold me the land is just a phone call away. Without him and the internet, I’d never be able to run this place otherwise. I don’t know the first thing about farming. I never pictured myself running a place with a bunch of animals or selling eggs alongside cider, but now I can’t imagine anything else. It’s hard work, but I enjoy it.
I stop by the pens and make sure the goats have what they need, then head to the pond to check on the ducks.
“Hey, Larry,” I say as she comes swimming over. I have no idea why they named her Larry, but she answers to it, so I guess that’s all that matters. “Are you behaving out here?”
She nuzzles against my hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll bring some lettuce out for you later, okay?”
She nudges me once more before swimming back to the flock of ducks across the water.
I watch her leave, then I take my time heading back to the taproom. While I love being there, I need a moment to myself before it becomes chaotic and fills with nothing but love, hearts, and whatever other romantic nonsense they can dream up. The same kind of nonsense I swore I’d never let myself get wrapped up in again after my divorce.
I can’t believe I agreed to this. I can’t believeEzraagreed to this.
But I did, and he did, so now here we are.
I meander my way to the old barn that hasn’t been properly used in I don’t even know how long. Right now, it houses an old tractor that doesn’t run, leftover lumber from when I built the taproom coffee table and bar top, and some beat-to-shit stalls that used to house the horses the old owner took with him.
I won’t lie—I was most looking forward to the horses out of all the animals I got in the deal, but now I’m glad he took them. I can hardly keep up with what we have now, never mind adding more to the mix.
The door creaks when I pull it open and step into the barn. Dust kicks up around me, and I fan it away as I look around, taking mental notes on everything I will need to do to get this ready for Izzy’s wedding.
First, there’s the obvious, like getting this damn tractor out of the way so I can really get down to business, like fixing several holes in the roof. It wouldn’t surprise me if I had to replace the whole thing. I need to dismantle the stalls to open up the space, reinforce it in several areas, and repaint what I can.
Never mind the general cleaning I need to do, like getting rid of the extra supplies, old boxes, and all the hay left over from the horses.
It’s a lot, and I have no idea how I’m going to complete itandthe chicken coop in just ten weeks, all while running Stick Taps.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“You might be a few years removed from the rink, but you certainly still sound like you’re on the ice.”
I turn to find Odette leaning against the door I left propped open. One hand on her hip, legs crossed, and looking entirely too damn good with the light backing her. The light curls around her curves in the most delicious of ways.
I try to ignore that as she shoves off the door, her heels clacking against the concrete as she struts farther into the old building.
“Sorry,” I say.
She shrugs. “Please. I’ve heard way worse while attending your games.”
I wince. Shit. That’s probably true. Given how close my family always sat to the benches, I’m sure she did hear a lot of what we were chirping at one another—and it wasn’t family friendly.
“Where’s Izzy?” I ask.
“She went back home to her lover boy. She was missing him or something. I have no idea,” Odette says, sounding a bit like me whenever relationships are mentioned, and I have a feeling it has to do with all the curse rumors. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Yeah, just trying to get a game plan together. Figure out what I need to get done. How much I’m going to let Izzy down when I don’t.”
I’m used to disappointing people, though. That’s what I did when I let my team down in my final NHL game, letting a puck slip by my stick and giving the other team a breakaway, which led to the game-winning goal. And that’s definitely what I did with my ex. I could never find a way to make her happy.
