Page 18 of Country Contract

He nods and grabs a set of keys from a hook on the other side of the wall. Without any trouble, he steps over the gate and jerks his chin toward my car.

“Right. You can hop in your ride and follow me.” He waits for me to start down the stairs, mentioning to watch my step in a fatherly tone.

He takes his little girl and hops onto an ATV. She sits cooperatively between his legs like this happens every day; still, he keeps his left arm wrapped around her little body. He starts down a rocky path, kicking up dirt and dust. The drive to my stay is almost soundless, other than the crunch under our tires and the occasional animal.

Looking out, I see a few rolling hills, lines of trees, and what seems like endless, open land. The land is starting to take a more golden tone, the lasting patches of green still trying to hold on, but that’s far and few between. I know this year was hotter than average, leaving summer seemingly longer than it was. I wonder momentarily what that means for farmers and crops.

We drive on and I take it all in. We turn after going around a large hill and I see a small body of water to my leftand off to my right is the pictured Hill House. The man pulls off to the left and stops before turning around and pointing for me to park in a space. It looks so much better in person than online. Small, charming, and unique with gray-blue wood siding and black-framed windows, roof, and door. A small porch with two rockers and a table. Behind it, the hills we passed, and I know beyond that is the main part of the property I saw.

I step out and look around. It seems even quieter over here if that’s possible. The strangest sensation washes over me. It’s like I’m alone, without being alone at all. It feels like freedom and yet is so grounding at the same time. It’s addicting.

“Harrison’s place is down that road. If you need anything, just message him or head over there. He’s helping a friend today, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Harrison?” I ask. “You mean Mr. Hill?”

The man barks out a laugh but quickly shakes it off and places a stern look back on his face.

“Ha-Ha?” the little one chimes, but almost in question. I think it’s funny that she feels the need to question something like her father’s laughter.

“No Ha-Ha.” He comforts her. I look at this large man holding his little girl with such gentleness but find it strange that he corrects her for calling him out on his laugh. I look him over and quickly assess that he’s clean-cut with a little of what looks like flour dusting his shirt, and no ring on his left hand. Like I said, quick assessment. There is a tan line in place of it though, so possibly widowed or divorced.

“Yes, Ha-Ha.” I correct and the girl beams, looking around.

“No Ha-Ha,” he repeats, and I cross my arms.

“Stop telling her that, you laughed.” It’s blatant.

“Ha-Ha is what my girl here calls Harrison. Mr. Hill is our dad,” he corrects. “Which is also why I laughed. No one has ever called Harrison Mr. Hill, caught me off guard.” The little girl squirms in his arms and he sets her down on the soft grass beneath our feet. She’s barefoot but doesn’t mind at all.

“I thought you were correcting her on calling you out. So I was just pointing out she was right.”

“Calling me out.” He blows a whistle. “Boy, Cassidy is goin’ to love you.”

“Another daughter?” I ask while turning back to my car and grabbing the travel tote that holds Cleo. She’s curled up in the back, medicated and sedated for our travels. I feel the man approach me, and I turn slightly to investigate his intent.

“She’s my wife.” He steps around to the trunk and taps it. “Anything back here?”

I use the key fob to pop it open. Two large suitcases and a plastic tote sit inside.

“That tote is heavy,” I mention.

“Anything fragile?” he asks. Hoisting it with ease, he takes long strides to the porch and sets it down before returning for my luggage. I quickly grab my travel bag while still holding Cleo.

“Just future best-selling books. It’s full of manuscripts.”

The man freezes and looks up at the sky for a moment before running his hand through his hair. He looks around for the little girl who’s pulling at small flowers before throwing them back to the ground.

“Oh yeah, she’s goin’ to be over the damn moon.” I’m not quite sure what to make of his statement.

“And you, your name?”

“Hunter.” I roll my eyes, then shoot a look at him. Hiseyes are still on the girl, and I’m thankful. Just a bunch of H names. Everywhere I go.

“And hers?” I ask with a gentleness to my voice.

“That’s Blake Lynn,” he says proudly. “We all live on this land, so if you need anything, we’re all here. Harrison will be your guy, though; we’re just for emergencies.” Hunter scoops up Blake and strides over to me. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he drops it into my hand.

“He’ll probably come by later to introduce himself. Get settled.” He nods his head toward the house and turns. “B and I got something in the oven, so we have to be off. Don’t be a stranger, now.”

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