Chapter One
Jake Maynard was pissed off.
It was raining, and the forecast had been for dry weather. The barn roof was leaking, and he’d been promised it’d been fixed. The feed delivery was late, and it was meant to have been there this morning. Three of the alpacas had escaped, and the fence should’ve been enough to contain a world-class escapologist.
The neighbouring farm and its land, that should’ve been his, wasn’t, and from the top of the barn roof, where he was trying not to slip, he could see the new owner.
Tempting as it was to say the day couldn’t get worse, Jake knew it could get a whole hell of a lot shittier.
“If you stop glaring over there, we might get this done a lot quicker.” His cousin, Zack, tapped Jake’s foot with a hammer. “Then we can find the walking flea bags that are probably destroying my livelihood.”
Jake picked up the hammer and debated chucking it into the field where his neighbour was checking one of her horses, which he knew damn well was his version of chucking his toys out of the pram.
“The alpacas don’t destroy anything. They keep your grass down and entertain your residents.” Jake had already considered pushing Zack off the roof.
He was also considering spending the rest of the day in his workshop where no one else ever went, because these murderous urges weren’t getting any less.
“They also get let into the building by Glenda, and I’m not sure that wouldn’t get us shut down if someone official visited.” Zack owned and ran Sunrise, a residential care and nursing home for the elderly. It had been built on family land and shared a boundary with Jake’s farm.
The alpacas had learned that getting into there was manna; plenty of people to feed them treats and act as if they were pets, and Jake was pretty sure they had enough intelligence to do it to annoy Zack.
“Just tell them it’s alpaca therapy.” He passed the hammer back to Zack. “It’s probably a thing. Check withher; she’ll probably know.” He nodded in the direction of his new neighbour. “Seems to know everything about therapy.”
Zack shook his head. “You need to get over it. She bought the farm fairly, and she’s here now. Move on. Be welcoming. You should get along – you’ve got enough in common.”
Jake scowled. “Horses. Just because we both have horses doesn’t mean we’re going to be best mates. Or mates at all.”
Zack didn’t say anything, just banged in a nail. “You need to redo this roof, Jake. This is okay for a patch up, but it’s not going to take a big storm. You also need to lose that tree.”
Jake looked in the direction where Zack was staring. A large elm that didn’t look too healthy marred the view. The land around it was wet, which meant roots would be all too easy to be dislodged in a storm. If it fell, the barn would be gone.
“I’ll add it to the list.” The very long list, which never seemed to get any shorter.
Zack started to tidy around them, the patch up job done – for now. “You know, Jake, I get you’re gutted that Robbie Nelson didn’t sell his farm to you, but maybe it’s a good thing.”
The inhalation of breath Jake took was mainly to give him time to calm before he helped Zack get down a lot quicker off the roof than he would’ve chosen.
“I could’ve increased my stables. Doubled the herd. Added maize to the rotation. Added more glamping pods.”
“And who would you’ve got to run all that? Father fucking Christmas?”
Jake didn’t answer. Labour had been difficult to find the last twelve months; he badly needed a deputy manager or two, and at least three more full-time workers, but no one suitable had applied.
Severton was a great place to live. It was a small town that thrived as a tourist spot in the summer, was a haven for walkers or townies wanting to escape for a weekend getaway from the city throughout the year, and it was close enough to both Leeds and Manchester for a night out. It’s quirky traditions and new music festivals had been well-publicised, but none of that had been enough to draw the sort of people Jake needed to expand his business without killing himself trying to do half a dozen different jobs.
“It’ll happen. Someone will come along.” He gave Zack a huge grin, trying to believe it himself. “Just like this rain will stop at some point.”
Zack made some sort of sound that could’ve meant anything, including that he was about to slip getting off the roof.
That wasn’t something Jake was that keen on happening, given that Zack was pretty useful at fixing roofs and fences, and he figured that Zack’s wife, Sorrell, would serve his testicles for breakfast at the boutique bed and breakfast she ran if anything happened to the father of her child, so Jake decided to check his cousin wasn’t in the imminent path of the Grim Reaper.
Zack descended with ease, the practice from years of rock climbing and abseiling making it look easy.
“You on call today?” Jake asked, starting to get down himself. He, his sister, her husband and their three cousins were all members of the town’s search and rescue team, Severton being surrounded by the mountains and hills of the Peak District.
“Think we all are.” Zack took out his phone, checking for messages. “Sorrell’s asking if we’re having lunch here next Sunday. She’s offering to cook.”
“Cool.” Jake wiped his hands on his jeans to dry them off. He wasn’t turning down anyone’s cooking, especially when Sorrell had no idea how to cook for less than twenty people, meaning he’d have enough leftovers for a few days.
