“Don’t be a fool. Don’t be a fool.Don’t be a fool.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as I take the slow corner, the gravel crunching underneath my car as the road changes from the pavement and becomes the single lane dirt road for Hart Family Farm.
I glance at the clock, cursing under my breath as I’m twenty minutes late. But for someone who has never spent a day on the farm, I’m proud of myself for only being twenty minutes late after searching for an appropriate outfit.
My apartment currently resembles a war zone with clothes strewn over every possible surface and piece of furniture I have. I originally wanted to wear a sundress because it’s going to be a hot day, but I don’t want to look like, well, a fool—the city girl showing up in a sundress and wedge heels for a day in the fields.
I opted for a pair of dark jeans and a white tank with a floral lace crochet overlay. It’ll keep me cool enough aslong as there is some sort of breeze, but jeans are probably more practical for working on a farm. I tied my jean button-up shirt over it, knowing that the morning will likely still hold a chill. My hair is twisted into a loose fishtail braid that hangs over one shoulder, the shorter wisps already caressing my face. I wiggle my toes in my new square toe boots, hoping that the store clerk downtown wasn’t full of shit when she said that all the girls who work the farms wear this style of boot.
I look around, noticing so much more in the daylight than I did driving here the last time. Green fields, as far as the eye can see in both directions, are almost a blur where the land blends with the horizon. Once the windbreak row of trees ends, worn wooden fence posts take their place, guiding me towards the main farmhouse. The cows stand in groups, lazily soaking up the golden haze as the rising sun hits the field.
I force my gaze to stay on the driveway ahead of me, knowing there might be a group of goats ready to cause another traffic jam. In a way, I hope there is so I can see them in the light. I wonder if Grayson will have us feeding goats today. In reality, I wonder what we’re going to be doing in general. When I asked for a day at the farm, I really didn’t know what I was asking for. I just knew I wanted to see him again, in his own environment, and ifI get to pet some animals in the meantime, well, that’d be just about the perfect day.
Once I pass the abandoned drive to my right, my heart pounds wildly in my chest as Grayson’s house appears on my left. A few minutes later, the main farmhouse comes into view. I pull into the circular drive, parking next to Grayson’s truck. I grab my purse from the car, then open my driver door and stand. At the last minute, I toss my purse back in the passenger seat, realizing I likely won’t need anything out of it today.
Slamming the door shut, I stare ahead at the blue-gray farmhouse, waiting to hear the same joyful sounds radiating through the beams as I heard the other night. It’s quiet today. Everyone is likely working in the barns, out in the fields, or doing whatever it is that keeps a farm like this running day-to-day.
“There she is.”
Grayson’s raspy voice carries over the morning air, and I spin to see him coming from the big red building behind me. “Morning,” I call out, awkwardly waving a hand before tucking it back into my back pocket.
He strolls toward me. His large body is even more intoxicating in the bright sunlight. I catch myself biting back a smile, and he does the same, but both of us give in and grin wildly at each other as he approaches.
His dark blue jeans stretch across those gloriously thick thighs. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt, one that looks practically brand new, with a blue and black plaid flannel over it. The flannel is unbuttoned, and the soft breeze pushes the fabric back as he moves. His feet are tucked into well-used rubber boots that come nearly to his knees. A dusty ball cap sits on his head, and I volley back and forth, debating on whether the cowboy hat or ball cap is sexier.
He’s so rugged, so muscular yet soft. He’s a far cry from any man I’ve ever dated in the past, and I’m wondering how I ever found them attractive when there are men like Grayson Hart in the world.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says once he’s a step away, and I take the step to close the distance.
“Me too. I hope I dressed alright.” I look down at my outfit from my brand-new cowgirl boots to my dark jeans, and when I look up, Grayson’s gaze is traveling up and down my body, and I don’t miss the quick glance at my chest before he averts his eyes.
“You look gorgeous,” he finally says, grinning down at me. His expression has my stomach flipping. “Did you need to grab breakfast? My mom cooked extra in case you’re hungry. I will warn you that she expects you to stay for dinner as well.”
“She does?” The thought of his mom, who only saw me briefly before I ran out of their home, wants me to stay for dinner to possibly talk to me, makes me feel a certain way. “I’m okay for now, but I’d love to have dinner with your family, if she’s expecting me.”
Grayson looks at me for another beat before his gaze turns to the side, and I follow it, watching him as he looks around. His gaze lands on one of the two large red barns that dominate the property, and a smile crosses his face before he turns back to me. “What do you want to see first?”
“Everything,” I answer breathlessly. “I’m so out of my element here, to be honest. I don’t know where to start, but I want to see it all.”
The whinny of a horse comes from a smaller building to the right of the largest one, and Grayson juts his head in that direction. “Maple’s calling for you; let’s show the city girl how to ride a horse.”
***
“You want me to, what?” I whisper-shriek, following behind Grayson as he heads toward the barn. I practically have to jog to keep up with his long strides, and he justsnickers at my worry. He leads me into the barn, our steps kicking up a dusty mixture of hay and grain, and he gestures for me to sit on a nearby bench. I take a tentative seat, my sweaty palms gripping the edges of the wood, and I inhale a deep, steadying breath, the scent of worn leather and something warm calming me. “I don’t think riding a horse is in the cards today,” I tell him as he disappears around the corner into a small alcove. “Maybe looking at them, petting one if it’s feeling generous. Let’s not get crazy on day one.”
Grayson’s raspy laugh echoes across the wooden beams, and he returns with some sort of harness and leash contraption. He moves past me to a large wooden gate, the old hinges groaning as he swings the door open wide.
He disappears again, but this time, I can hear his soothing voice whisper something to whatever is behind the door. A gentle “there, there” causes goosebumps to break out across my arms.
When he comes back, he’s not alone. Grayson has the harness on the horse's head and he’s leading it out of the stall. The horse follows him easily, and I wonder if he’d really need to have her tied, or if she’d follow him anywhere. The brown beast is nearly as tall as Grayson, and as they walk in stride, her chocolate eyes flick towardme. Each wiggle of her ears and subsequent flare of her nostrils tells me she’s sizing me up.
I watch with awe as Grayson nuzzles her, whispering softly to her as he runs his fingers through the coarse black hair that falls over her forehead. I can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but the tender touch of his voice is so soothing, so serene, I’m positive it could lull anyone down from the worst panic attack. He loosely ties the rope to a stake along the wall and turns toward me with the gesture of his hand.
I rise and take a tentative step toward the two of them. “How long have you had her?”
With one hand caressing the underside of Maple’s jaw, Grayson reaches out the other to me. “Come this way. Walk slowly. Reach an arm out and let her sniff you. Let her get to know you.”
With careful feet, I step closer to Maple, reaching an arm out toward her mouth. I let my fingers dangle in front of her. As I get closer, she reaches her muzzle forward and her nostrils move, the soft hairs on her mouth tickling me.
“She won’t hurt you—not this one,” he says, running his hand up her mane. “But it’s good practice when meeting any horse, or any animal really, to let them come to you. Show them that you aren’t there to hurt them; don’tlet it be a dominance thing. The animal will be able to sense a person’s motives.”
