Page 31 of For My Finale
“No.”
Margot sighed dramatically. “Darling.”
“Don’t darling me, I said no. You know I’m going to say no, so why do you keep offering?”
“Because I’m your agent, it’s my job.”
“Have I not fired you?”
“You can’t. I own ten percent of you, darling. Besides, if you fire me, you’ll just have to deal with all the offers personally, and I’m sure you don’t want to do that. Think about it?”
“No,” Lilah said. Then, in a fit of pique, she hung up the phone.
She exhaled sharply, pushing the phone back into her pocket. When she looked up, Blossom was watching her.
“You okay?”
“About as okay as you are about your cafe,” Lilah said. She’d overheard Blossom’s conversation with Ives, and it was obvious to her that Blossom was lying. Lilah Paxton had made a career out of lying, she’d recognize it anywhere.
Blossom’s expression flickered, just for a second. “Alrighty then, glad we’re both absolutely fine. And duty calls.” She nodded over to the other side of the bar, where a customer was waiting.
Lilah painted a smile on and turned away. But as she poured the customer’s beer, she felt Blossom’s eyes on her. And she had the strangest feeling that she wasn’t quite as alone as she used to be.
Chapter Thirteen
Lilah had her reservations about the farm. For a start, she had a feeling that most chihuahuas weren’t farmed. But then again, what did she know? Secondly, it was awfully early. The sun was bright and golden, but this was not a normal time to be awake.
Still, there was an arrangement here. She strode through the farmyard, proud that she’d remembered to wear boots and not anything impractical, until she found a burly, weathered man in a worn-out flat cap and mud-streaked wellingtons.
“George Thompson,” he said gruffly. “You’re late.”
“Am I?” Lilah said airily. “It’s still terribly early.” She wrinkled her nose. The place smelled. Not the sort of wholesome outdoorsy smell she might have expected. But a stench that was, unmistakably, well, manure related.
“You’re an actress,” George grunted.
“I was an actress,” Lilah corrected, looking around and wondering where all the dogs were.
“Hmm.” He clicked his tongue. “Alright then. Let’s see if you can star in a real job then. Ever worked a day in your life?”
“Acting is work,” Lilah said, lifting her chin.
“Yeah, course.” He clearly didn’t believe her. “Alright then, best get started. First job, you’ll need to be mucking out that barn over yonder. You see the one there?”
Lilah stared at him. “And by mucking you mean…?”
He tossed her a pitchfork which she only just caught before it pierced her. “Shoveling dung,” he said shortly. “Get to it then.”
It took approximately five minutes for Lilah to regret every decision she had ever made in her life up until this point.
She stabbed her pitchfork into the straw, managing to scoop up a reasonable amount of the offending material, only to immediately be caught off balance by the unexpected weight of it, and to slip on something unseen.
With a shriek, she tumbled backward, landing directly on something that was thankfully soft. Slightly less thankfully, it turned out to be a pile of cow manure.
George sniffed. “Might want to watch your step there, missy.”
Lilah groaned and gritted her teeth. “I hate it here already.”
“City girl, eh?” George said, offering her a dirty hand. Lilah reluctantly accepted it, yanking herself up and wiping her hands on her already ruined trousers. “You’ll live. Happen I should have started you off on something easier. Though I don’t know what’s easier than mucking out.” He considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Come on, follow me.”
