Page 15 of The Floral Arrangement

As I pulled the tractor up near the wagon, I spotted my parents, Matt and Lottie standing by the side of the house.

“I can reverse it so we can hook up the wagon,” Dana said, her voice surly.

“No, I can do it,” I insisted. “You can hop down. I’ve got this.”

I hadn’t practiced reversing, but how hard could it be? And with my family watching, I wanted to stay on the tractor.

“Fine,” Dana said, sliding off the seat and jumping down.

“Auntie Roz!” Lottie yelled.

I waved at my family. “I’ll be done in a second—just getting the hayride set up.”

I put the tractor in reverse, twisting my head to look behind me as I inched the vehicle backward. I turned the wheel to align the rear of the tractor with the front of the wagon.

I frowned. From where I was, it was difficult to see clearly behind me. There was no rearview mirror and the large engine hood on the back of the tractor obscured my view. I could use the sophisticated 360-degree camera system in my Mercedes-Benz right now.

“You’re turning too much!” Dana yelled from her vantage point on the ground near the house. “The steering wheel is more sensitive in reverse. Slow down!”

Sweat pricked my armpits as I pushed the throttle to slow the tractor.

The tractor jerked backward.

“Pull the throttle; don’t push it!” Dana’s shout was barely audible over the rumble of the tractor.

Shit.

Still twisting to try to see, I grabbed what I thought was the throttle and pulled it.

“That’s the gear stick, not the throttle. Push down on the brake, or you’re?—”

Dana’s words were drowned out by a loud crunching noise as the tractor hit something and started tipping forward.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.I gripped the steering wheel.

“Brake now!” Dana screamed.

I slammed my foot on the brake, and the tractor jerked to a stop, sending me toppling forward. My chest crashed into the steering wheel. The tractor was tilted on a thirty-degree angle, its back wheels presumably propped up on whatever I’d smashed into. Was it the wagon?

Dana sprinted over to the tractor. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”

Winded and with my heart still pounding, I wheezed out, “Yeah.”

With trembling legs, I carefully climbed off the tractor and turned to survey the damage.

My heart plummeted.

My Mercedes-Benz.

One of the gigantic back wheels of the tractor was sitting on the crumpled front of my car. The hood, grille, and bumper were crushed under its weight.

“Fuck.”

I had a terrible feeling my insurance wouldn’t cover me destroying my own car. I winced at the thought of the hundreds of thousands of dollars I’d just destroyed in less than two minutes.

I turned, glaring at the two cows in the paddock who were staring at me and chewing grass like they were enjoying popcorn at a movie.

“Show’s over,” I muttered.

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