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One Night with a Nutcracker (Reindeer Falls)

Page 15

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Why, why did one of the hottest men I have ever had the misfortune to know have to be a complete and total ass? It’s an absolute travesty that he’s good in bed. If he was nice to look at but terrible in bed, I could’ve gotten over it. But he wasn’t. He was… extremely skilled. So much so that he left me with a sex hangover.

And I just can’t abide that.

Now, I’m back to figuring out how to save my farm.

As I’m working on the cheese, I run through all the different scenarios. Maybe I could buy the land from Jake? That’s a pretty laughable solution since I highly doubt I’d even qualify for a mortgage. I could pay rent, but then I’d have to double or triple my production to afford it. Basically, every idea makes me feel worse, and I end up messing up the cheese multiple times because I’m so distracted. Finally, a goat cry from the big barn draws my attention, and I leave what I’m doing to check it out.

As soon as I enter the barn, I’m ready to fight. If Jake is even so much as frowning in their direction I’m gonna throw down. Or challenge him to a duel. Or just be really, really mad.

Jake’s playing tug of war with Farmer John.

Well, not quite. Farmer John has what is likely Jake’s sweatshirt and they’re at a standoff on who is going to retain ownership.

Jake’s fit and all, but my money is on Farmer John.

“Team Farmer John!” I yell, but I’m already laughing.

Farmer John lets out a loud “bahhhh,” and loses the sweatshirt to Jake. It’s all so ridiculous that I lose it, completely coming undone. Especially when a crooked smile breaks across Jake’s face until he’s laughing right along with me. The barn fills with our laughter, sweet and loud and silly.

Except, suddenly, there’s a third laugh, and when I turn, my heart drops into my stomach.

It’s a man in a tan suit with a clipboard who looks at my barn like he’s already starting to assess it. I can only guess that this is the town surveyor, walking in and chuckling, and I know without a single word that the joke’s over.

I’m about to lose my farm.

Chapter Seven

There aren’t too many people in Reindeer Falls, or anywhere else, whom I don’t like. I do my best to live life by my motto of ‘peace, love and goats.’ I could probably count all the people on my “no” list on one hand. The one barista who always gives me attitude when I ask for oat milk. The guy at the tack and feed place who always asks me why I bother with goats. The person who left me a one-star review on Etsy because my Sunset Sangria soap “doesn’t taste like Sangria” and who didn’t seem to believe me when I told her my soap isn’t edible.

The point is, it’s not a long list, and all of the people on it deserve to be there because their vibe is intolerable. And, yes, now I have to add Jake Sheppard to the list. But I really, really wish I didn’t.

There is, however, another new addition I’m just fine with.

Tom the Surveyor.

I should’ve known from Tom’s puke-brown suit that he would be a problem, but it’s beyond that. His voice annoys me. The handkerchief he keeps blowing his nose with annoys me. His big dumb clipboard most definitely annoys me.

It’s worse than his voice or his excessive snot, though. In fact, most of it’s the way that he looks at everything on my farm with disgust. It’s the way he looks at the goats like they’re wild boars capable of maiming him. It’s the way he purposely avoids Linus approaching for a head scratch. It’s distaste and judgment that he sweeps across the room as he points out every single thing that he sees wrong with my barn.

“It’s a shame Joe never did anything with it,” he says, sniffing at one of the makeshift paddocks. “But now, of course, I see why. The land’s great, but this barn… though, of course, maybe the goats are to blame for some of it.”

He gives Jake a conspiratorial shrug at that. Thankfully, Jake ignores him.

Then, of course, he looks at me. His gaze drops to my boots, pink Uggs today, and my Reindeer Falls Goat Farm apron and then all the way up to my handmade, beaded earrings. And I know immediately what he’s thinking. Look at this hippie girl who spends all her time with goats and who doesn’t have a real job. He’s already thinking I’m some kind of a ditz, even though I’m not. Far from it. I have to be smart to run this business. And yeah, okay, maybe I have been squatting on land that doesn’t belong to me… but he doesn’t get to look at me and act like he knows me. And I hate that he’s trying to.


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