I start the truck. And before I can change my mind, I’m already heading down the ridge.
Chapter 9
Rainey
Ijust happen to be outside near the garden where a certain tall, quiet, dangerously competent mountain manmightshow up. I am not waiting for him. I am absolutely not waiting for him. If he does, it will be a giant coincidence.
Why am I secretly wishing for this? He did say he'd be back in the morning.
I drag the rake through the tilled section, smoothing out the soil like I know what I’m doing. I do not know what I’m doing. But it looks convincing from a distance, and right now that’s enough.
My arms still ache. My shoulders feel like they’ve been stretched to their limits. And my hands, even with gloves, are reminding me that I am not built for manual labor with a shovel. I knew there was something evil about that shovel when I placed it in my shopping cart.
Regardless, I’m out here anyway. Obviously, I’ve lived a little bit of a pampered life up to now. But I want to know what’s involved in homesteading and living off the land. I want to prove that I can survive. Sure, I might need a little lesson here or there. Advice and a helping hand are part of any community. At least, I believe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
One thing I’m learning. You can do things you thought you couldn’t if you have the right tool. So far, Troy has the right tools. That thought alone makes me wonder what other hidden tools he possesses that I haven’t seen.
Stop it, Rainey. You’re obsessed!
I rake a little more until the sound of a truck engine cuts through my thoughts. I freeze, then immediately pretend I did not freeze. Then casually — very casually — turn toward the driveway.
Troy’s truck rolls to a stop like it belongs here. Which is irritating because this ismyproperty — even if it currently looks like I’m losing a fight with it.
I plant the rake into the ground and try to look like I’ve been doing this for hours. He steps out of the truck with that same calm energy and effortless presence.How does he do that?
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I reply, like my heart didn’t just do something weird and unnecessary.
His gaze moves over the yard and the tilled section. He looks at the rake and then back at me.
“You started.”
I lift my chin slightly, a bit of a proud stance.
“I did.”
He nods once and I take that as approval.Why do I care about that? I do not need his approval.Annoyingly, there’s a part of me that says, “Yes, you do.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying for casual and landing somewhere in the general vicinity.
He walks to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door.
“I told you I’d show you where to start.”
Troy reaches in and pulls out a tray of plants. They’re small green ones — very alive and healthy looking. He sets the tray down near the edge of the tilled section.
“Starters.”
I walk closer, crouching slightly to look at them.
"They’re… cute." Which feels like the wrong word, but here we are. “What are they?”
“Lettuce. Kale. A few herbs.”
I look up at him.
“You just … had these?”
