Page 34 of Most Likely to Fear Love

“Amatriciana with a side salad.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It is. Very fancy. There are five ingredients here, I’ll have you know.”

“No! Five?”

He winked at me, amusement glowing in his eyes. My heart rate picked up and I had to look away. Feeling Buddy’s weight as he leaned against my leg, I dropped my hand to his head, lightly scratching behind his ears. It was good to have something else to focus on.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of garlic and spices as Harle worked his magic at the stove. I found myself relaxing even more, tension melting away like butter in a hot pan.

“You know, I half expected this to be weird.”

Harle glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yeah? And you don’t think it is?”

“Surprisingly, no. It’s actually... nice.”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Good.” He went back to the cooking, giving me ample opportunity to admire, well, all of him.

Once the pasta was in the pot and the sauce was bubbling away, Harle said, “I need to do the rounds to feed the animals. You want to come with me?”

“Absolutely!”

“Come on, then.”

Out on the deck, I paused for a moment to take in the view. The lake stretched out before us, its surface a mirror of pinks and oranges as the sun dipped low on the horizon. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and wildflowers.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“Never gets old,” Harle agreed, his voice soft. “Come on, let’s go meet the gang.”

We made our way down the steps and across the yard towards a cluster of outbuildings. As we approached, I heard a cacophony of animal sounds - bleats, brays, and the occasional squawk.

“Alright, alright, I hear ya,” Harle called out, chuckling. “They know it’s dinner time.”

He pushed open a gate, and I followed him into a small paddock. A donkey with shaggy gray fur ambled over, its long ears twitching.

“Oh my god! Is this Derek? ”

“The one and only.” Harle reached out to scratch the donkey’s nose. “He thinks he runs the place.”

I laughed as Derek nudged Harle’s pocket, clearly looking for treats. “He’s adorable.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s a master manipulator.”

We moved on to a pen where several goats crowded around, bleating excitedly. Harle introduced them in rapid-fire - Pepper, Salt, Paprika, Rosemary and Nutmeg - as he poured feed into their trough.

“The spice girls.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a theme.”

As we walked towards a large aviary, I heard the distinct chatter of parrots. Harle opened the door, and I gasped at the explosion of color and noise inside.“Pretty lady, pretty lady, pretty lady.” “Come closer, come closer.”

“Way to play hard to get, you guys.”

“Nice tits.”

I burst out laughing, slapping my hand over my mouth. “Did he just say ‘nice tits’?”

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