The covers Ernest used were a rather novel invention that was designed to help young seedling flowers be protected from the effects of frost or the occasional hailstorm.While both were rare where Ernest lived, they were still enough of a concern for him to want his paddocks covered.Most people would grow the delicate flower species he favored in a glasshouse.However, Ernest had always wanted a bigger operation.He got a huge sense of satisfaction from seeing his precious flowers grow year after year, after year.
But of course, those seeds had to grow into sturdy plants first.
“The last covers we had were totally wrecked by that freak storm we had at the end of last season.Remember?I warned you then that we needed to be sourcing new ones before we started planting this time.Of course, you had other things on your mind.”
Ernest felt a flush of guilt.The other things on his mind were his messy affair with Pierre.It was chaotic from the start.It was Pierre who decided to move into Ernest’s house after their second date—because, of course, two people in love would want to be together all the time.Ernest hadn’t remembered loving him, but he didn’t see the harm.
Pierre then tried to interfere with Ernest’s planting schedule—complaining that Ernest was always tired and never spent any time with him.It’s not like Ernest could ask the seasons to put the spring on hold so he could tend to his boyfriend.The seasons didn’t wait for anybody.
Ernest’s insistence on keeping to his growing schedule caused Pierre to decide that Ernest was boring.Ernest remembered agreeing—his life could look that way to someone who didn’t understand his love of pretty blooms.Left to his own devices, Pierre got picky, and then he got nasty, and then he decided he would take Ernest for every cent he possibly could by accessing his bank accounts and trying to steal his credit card—coincidentally, the night of the big storm.An internet outage was the only reason Pierre hadn’t succeeded.Their last fight had been messy, with Pierre throwing every insult he could think of before slamming the door on the way out.And taking Ernest’s truck.
“I know,” he said, running his hands through his long gray hair.“I dropped the ball.I’m trying to fix things.I promised this season I would not be ruled by the needs of a rampant dick, and I meant it.”
“I’m not sure the needs of your dick are going to cause you any issues this season,” Rick chuckled wryly.“Unless you’re planning on going back to that asshole again.”
Ernest was already shaking his head.He learned from his mistakes.
“The thing is, the ass who was warming one end of your dick last season could be a threat to this season as well.Can you get in touch with the local council?Try and get an injunction against him that will ban him from flying anywhere near the farm at all?”
“I can try,” Ernest said.“I’ll get in touch with them…” He glanced at a clock as his stomach rumbled.“Correction.I’ll make myself a huge, big note, slap it in the middle of my desk, and I’ll get onto it first thing in the morning.I am sorry, Rick.I know we were hoping for a hassle-free season this year.”
“Bah!”Rick flicked his hand in Ernest’s direction.“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.Lord knows I’ve been led astray by my rampant appendage more than once myself in my long and rather sorry life.I’m just worried, okay?Those seeds are just starting to show above the soil.There’s two weekends’ worth of events planned, that we know of, which means his balloons are going to be everywhere.”
“We could hope for rain and really high winds.”Ernest tried to be optimistic.
“Or you could call the council in the morning and see if you can get an injunction to stop him coming anywhere near our airspace at all.Which would be the more sensible idea rather than relying on the rain gods who have never done us many favors before.”
That was true, too.The curse for many growers.“It’s not like we can even roll our big irrigation sprinklers into the middle of the paddocks to stop them,” he said.“That’ll make as much damage as a balloon landing would.”
Ernest was desperately trying to think of any way he could dissuade any balloons from landing, but anything he did would be hazardous to the new sprouts he had growing.“I’ll keep thinking.See what I can come up with.My best bet is to get some covers.But at this rate, I’d have to drive two days to find a place that has some in stock.”
“That’s because any flower farmer worth their salt had already ordered theirs six months ago,” Rick said drily.“At least we’ve got some warning, right?I was just angry when I saw the brochure.It got delivered with the mail, and I just…” Rick pinched the bridge of his nose.“As soon as I saw your paddocks being used for promotional purposes… I just knew Pierre was going to use this to mess with you again.”
“One would have thought he would have moved on by now, don’t you think?”Ernest said.“I mean, remember?I’m big, fat, old, and boring.I don’t understand why he came on to me in the first place.”Not that I stopped him when he did,he thought with a sigh.
“You’re not fat, you’re a solid man, you’re not old, you’re wise.You’re not boring—your interests just didn’t jibe with a young, money-hungry idiot, and the reason why he came onto you is obvious.It’s well known that elephants have big dicks.”Rick chuckled.“Come on, clearly you haven’t had time to cook anything, and I haven’t got any plans tonight.Let’s go out and get something to eat, eh?Have a couple of beers.Then I’ll head home, you’ll get some sleep, and you’ll be on the phone to the council first thing in the morning tomorrow.Promise me.”
“I promise I’ll be talking to someone at the council the moment their offices open,” Ernest said, shutting off his computer.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think it would do any good, but he would try.
Chapter Three
Toby
The email he received with his ticket for the hot air balloon had a wealth of instructions, and Toby was wide-eyed by the time he finished reading it, and his excitement had dropped from a solid ten to a four.The small print was clear—yes, folks didn’t often get that far, except Toby liked to make sure he was equipped for every eventuality—if the weather wasn’t conducive to flying, then the event would bepostponedand would need to be booked on another date.
Toby then went on to Pierre’s site, the owner of the hot air balloon company, to check out how many times that happened—a lot.
Toby then reached out to Remy, the organizer of the Bucket List Buddies, to double—triple—check that he wasn’t getting it wrong.He hadn’t, but Remy assured him that he’d done a long-range weather forecast and some predictor thing to book dates that were the higher probability of success for balloon flights.All that was great, except the hours of waiting were driving Toby batty when he had to be nice to customers and act like he didn’t have ants in his pants.He’d experienced that once when he’d gone on a picnic date, and they’d stupidly picked an anthill to perch on.Yes, he could most definitely attest to the wriggling little buggers in his pants, which was how he felt as he smiled and served the next customer.
Count your blessings.
Toby had that on repeat with his waning excitement.Niall had done what he’d promised and paid for the ticket, and didn’t want Toby to pay him back.A wonderful blessing.If the Bucket List Buddies event didn’t happen on the planned date—that evening—that wasn’t anyone’s fault.The weather gods, Toby could blame them, but that felt a little like overkill when he looked out the window at a cloudless blue sky.Except that meant nothing because it was all about wind conditions, and there, Toby got lost.
He had another hour before he was to ring the designated pilot number to get the update on the flight.It felt like it was a year away.
“Hi Toby.”
