“You’re Lainey Green, right?”
She eyed him a little like his old head teacher used to when he got dragged into her office. He tried not to flinch. He’d faced down horses with more strength and evilness than Lainey Green clearly possessed; there was no need to act like a kid who’d been caught on the school roof.
Again.
It had happened a few times. And he’d only broken his arm once.
“I’m Jake Maynard.” He gave her the same grin he’d used on women he managed to entice back to his bed. “It’s good to meet you.”
The smile that should’ve brightened her face and the rest of the bar didn’t. Instead, it made him consider taking a further step back, only pride and stubbornness froze his feet.
He folded his arms.
“I’d like to say the same, but there’s a fence in your south field that keeps coming down, and every time I fix it, one of your alpacas knocks it back down again. You have them well trained.” Her accent was almost posh, one that told of a private school education, probably abroad.
“That’ll be Jimmy.”
“Who’s Jimmy?”
Jake swallowed, aware that Zack was listening into this, and he was very interested.
“Jimmy’s one of the alpacas. I’ll fix the fence tomorrow and I’ll Jimmy-proof it.” He smiled again, trying to drown her in charm.
A cough from behind him sounded suspiciously like someone saying ‘won’t work’.
Jake turned round and gave Zack the finger. When he looked back at Lainey she was watching him and Zack with more suspicion than he gave his sister when she cooked him dinner.
“This is my cousin, Zack.” Jake yanked on Zack’s arm and pulled him forward. “He’s married to Sorrell, who runs the guest house up the road. Zack has a job where he pretends to run a care home for the elderly.”
“I stayed at Sorrell’s when I came to view the farm. It was a lovely place for a break.”
Jake saw her give Zack a look that was far friendlier than he’d received. He wiped his hands on his jeans and tried to work out whether he smelled off. The climb to rescue the guy who’d sprained his ankle had been a struggle, and even though it was cold and wet, sweat had been involved. Scott’s bar had been the first place they’d headed to, rather than going home for showers. There was at least two more beers and a burger involved before he went home.
Zack beamed like he always did when someone praised his wife. Jake wanted to give him shit for it, but that wasn’t going help the impression he was trying to make. As pissed as he was at Lainey for buying something he considered his, he hadn’t thought she’d picked up on that.
“I’ll let her know,” Zack said, giving her a nod. “And ignore this idiot here. He’ll get over you buying the farm.” He slapped Jake on the back. “Won’t you?”
Lainey’s expression darkened. Her eyes narrowed. Jake didn’t need to have lived with Rayah for eighteen years to know this was not a good sign.
“Was it you who tried to gazzump me?”
He realised he’d rather deal with a rampant and angry bull than Lainey Green when she was pissed off.
Jake stuttered, nothing coming out quite right.
“I knew someone had found out what my bid was, and then gone higher, after we’d exchanged contracts. I thought it was some big corporation who was after the land to build houses, or something, not my nearly neighbour.” Her gaze was cold enough to make Jake wish for his hoodie.
He felt Zack’s hand push the side of his head.
“Excuse my cousin. He’s always been a little simple. It was all the inbreeding.” The second push was a tad harder.
Jake turned round and glared. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You got the farm. And I’ll get the fence fixed tomorrow.”
“Although that doesn’t mean the alpacas won’t find another way in.” Zack was continuing to ramble. “Don’t be surprised if you find one in your bed at some point. Which, by the way, would be far better than McDowell in there.”
“Like I said, I’ve dealt with far worse than McDowell. Just like I’ve dealt with bigger idiots thanyou.” She stared at Jake, picked up her bag and walked out of the bar.
It took her being gone for all of two seconds before a big cheer echoed round the walls and someone handed him another beer.
