Page 15 of Unexpected Entanglement

“By first getting to know the land and what you’ve obviously worked hard building here.” Chris gestured to the rows of plants and seedlings in the greenhouse. “This isn’t a small venture. I can tell a well-run operation when I see it whether I’m a farmer or not. Show me around, and I’ll see where Rae could be helpful.”

“We don’t need her,” Kieran retorted stubbornly.

“Maybe not, but that’s why I’m here—because, at the end of the day, she doesn’t have any choice but to be a part-owner of this land. Neither do you and your sister.”

Kieran pursed his lips as he glared at Chris. Maybe the farmer was considering his pros and cons, or he was thinking of a way to boot Chris off his property. Except for Kieran’s ill-temper and stubbornness, Chris actually had a hard time reading the other man.

Suddenly, the farmer brusquely nodded. “Come along then. I don’t have time to give you a tour, but you can shadow me while I work.”

“That’s perfectly fine.”

“Just don’t get in the way.” Kieran started to the other end of the greenhouse, where another door was located. He glanced back at Chris’ feet as he followed close behind him. “I better not hear you complaining about mud on your fancy boots.”

Chris just grinned. “Mud will give them more character, don’t you think?”

The other guy just grunted as they walked out into the buzzing farm.

Chris dried his hands after washing the dirt off them in the tiny bathroom off the Farm Store, where fresh veggies, seasonal fruits, flowers, and baked goods were available for sale to anyone who made their way there. To his surprise, the merchandise was almost out. He’d thought being this far from town would limit their foot traffic.

He walked into the main store room and zeroed in on the leftover baked goods. There was one strawberry-rhubarb pie, but it was a whole pie. After following Kieran for the past three hours, he was somewhat peckish. He hadn’t merely observed; Kieran had put him to work without even batting an eye.

“You wanted to know how the farm works? You work it,” Kieran had said.

So Chris had picked strawberries, harvested lettuce, filled produce boxes, hauled them onto a truck bed, fed the pigs, and strewn the imperfect strawberries to the chickens. He betKieran didn’t do half of those tasks anymore, and he’d done them himself today to give Chris a taste of farm life.

If he thought he’d scare me with a bit of work, he better think again.His parents had taught him from a young age if he wanted to be at the top of their organization someday, he'd better know how to do every little job involved in running a successful hotel. He’d put the time in with the maintenance crew, housekeeping, the kitchen, and all the way to the office floor, where he learned the reservation system, marketing, and accounting before he’d been given a space to observe his father’s managerial team when he was twenty-one.

“You’ve been eyeing that pie for a full minute. Would you like a piece, hon?” A kind voice broke Chris’ reverie.

He looked up to find a woman in her early fifties with light brown hair highlighted with some graying strands smiling at him. He quickly went through his memory map, where he stored names and descriptions of people. He hadn’t met this particular woman, but Kieran had mentioned some of the farm crew in the past hours.

“Sheila?” Chris made a calculated guess based on where they were. Sheila wasn’t a full-time employee but rather one of the bakers of the drool-worthy baked goods who sometimes manned the store.

The smile on the woman’s face grew wider. “That’s right. You’re that fella everyone’s chattering about.”

“There’s chatter about me?” Chris grinned.

“When a good-looking stranger starts working without even a heads-up from either Kieran or Frankie, hell yeah, people would start talking, especially the ladies.” She winked. “You have a name, hon?”

“Chris.” He bestowed Sheila his best smile.

“How about that piece of pie, Chris?” She grabbed the last pie and unboxed it.

“I’d love a piece. I would buy the whole tin if I could share it with others,” he offered.

“It’s on the house. Let’s say it’s a welcome pie.” Sheila cut a generous portion, set it on a paper plate, and handed it to Chris with a plastic fork. “Coffee?”

“That’d be wonderful. Black, please.”

Sheila poured coffee into a paper cup and slid it over the counter where the register was. She then cut a smaller piece of pie for herself.

Chris took his first bite and groaned with pleasure, gaining an amused smile from the older woman. “Did you bake this, Sheila?”

“I did.”

“This crust is to die for. So buttery and flaky. This is one of the best pies I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, you’re such a flatterer, but go on.”

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