MissManaged

I felt the blood drain from my face and my stomach leapt when he selected a key and inserted it into the lock. Was this guy more important than I’d thought? A foreman or something? He’d probably never keep my angry outburst a secret from Tobin.

Without a word or a glance back at me, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping through and holding it so I could follow.

“Take a seat,” he said as he closed the door behind me.

I took in the room as I sat in one of two chairs positioned in front of a large wooden desk. The walls were finished and didn’t look like the inside of the barn. Old black-and-white photos of the farm hung on one wall and a bookcase lined the other. Another door was opposite the one we entered and must have led into the interior of the actual barn.

I rested my bag in my lap and waited for the man to leave and get Tobin, but after a minute of silence, I turned in my chair to find him leaning against the wall, watching me with an intent look on his face that I couldn’t read. Though just the intensity of it made me fidget in my seat.

I opened my mouth to ask what was going on when he pushed off the wall and walked around my chair and straight behind the desk, settling into the empty executive chair like he belonged there.

A terrible, awful thought raced through my brain.

I couldn’t possibly have made such a huge mistake.

Could I?

No. It’s not possible that the dirty man wearing coveralls tucked into work boots with a green John Deere hat smushing down unkempt brown hair was the same man with the impeccable grammar and a voice like fine-aged whiskey.

The Universe wouldn’t be so cruel.

And then, he opened his mouth, and my worst nightmare came true.

“Welcome to Daniels’ Family Farm, Charlotte Winslow. I’m Tobin Daniels.”