Eating quickly, he taps the watch on his wrist. “We're already running behind. Go change and meet me out at the barn.”
I quickly change my clothes, and head outside, the screen door slamming shut behind me. There's a chill in the early morning air. Rubbing the outside of my arms, I head to the barn.
Ryder's inside scooping hay into a wheel barrel. “All right, let's get you to work. Grab the pitchfork over on the wall and come help me. If you remember what a pitchfork is.”
Rolling my eyes, I head right for it and grab it off the wall. “I think you're going to be surprised at how well I'm going to do today.”
“We'll see,” he says with a smirk.
We load up three barrels, pushing them into the horse stables. The horses are already out in the field, so the stalls are open. It stinks, literally. Covering my nose, I breathe in and out through my mouth.
“Yup, I remember this smell.”
“Good, because you're the one cleaning it out. I need you to clean out each stall and fill it with fresh hay. Can you do that?”
“All of them?” I ask.
“Yeah, all of them.”
“And what about you? What are you going to do?”
“It's a farm, Jenna. There's plenty to do. I'm going to fix the barn door, if you must know. It's loose and doesn’t close right.” He grabs a toolbox from against the wall, and walks backward to the doors. “You can handle this right? Or is this too much? You want to call it quits already?”
“No, I can do it.” Taking the shovel that's leaning against the wall, I start to scoop out the first stall. I'm not backing down from a single challenge he gives me. I want the opportunity to sell him on our offer, and I can't do that if I leave.
It takes me about three hours to clean all six stalls. Every so often I can feel Ryder watching me. But when I look up, his eyes are on the job he's doing. I caught him once, and he smiled lightly, then went right back to work.
Plucking rogue hay out of my hair, I wipe my hands on my pants. “Done. And it was easy. So, is it my turn? Can I pitch what we have to offer now?”
“Uh,” he says, “I said you have to work. We're not even close to being done. I've got a lot more for you to do.”
“All right. Go for it. Give me what you got. It can't be that bad.”
Ryder lists off task after task. And when I think I'm done, he's right there, ready to give me more. He has me gather the chicken eggs from the coop, feed the pigs, brush the horses, and give all the animals clean water.
As I'm scrubbing the gunk off the inside of the chicken coop, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm doing all the same tasks his dad had me do when I was a kid. Every single one. Ryder hasn't even had to give me any real instructions. It's like it's second nature to me. I already know what I'm doing without a second thought. It’s shocking how quickly it all comes back.
Running the back of my hand across my forehead, I spot Ryder as he's pushing a wheel barrel full of apples through the dirt lot. He stops, and I swear he knows I'm watching, but he doesn't look over to acknowledge me.
Setting down the wheel barrel, he wipes sweat off his head with a rag. And then he does exactly what I don't need him to do. He grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it over his head. His body glistens under the sun. He's hot and wet, and all his muscles ripple as he stretches his arms over his head.
It takes me a second to realize I'm not breathing. It's not until my lungs are burning that I finally draw in a huge gulp of air.
He's mesmerizing. A farm boy model that girls would go crazy for. He'd do great in New York. I know he'll never actually go, but the fashion side of me is drawn to his chiseled jaw and rock hard body. Then there's the rest of me, the feral side, the side that secretly wants this man to grab me and throw me against the barn.
I'm screwed.
Taking a few controlled breaths, I clear my head and walk over to him. “All right, I've finished everything you gave me to do.”
“No you didn't,” he says. “Now we need to wash these apples for the farmer's market this weekend.
We're standing at the outside wash basin, scrubbing apples and checking them over for any bruising. There's a quiet between us, but it doesn't feel awkward or weird. It feels natural, familiar, even flirty at times.
He splashes me with water, chuckling to himself. “Oops,” he says. “I missed the apple completely.”
Smirking, I flick water up at his face, and before I know it we're having a full blown water fight. I'm laughing and smiling, enjoying every second of this. I had always told my friends back in New York that life on the farm was gross, dirty, and I hated every second of it.
But right now I can't seem to remember why I said those things. I don’t have any bad memories of this place. The farm was always my escape. The only memory that really sucks is the day I left.
So why have I fought so hard to forget this part of my life? It's not making sense right now.
“Okay, okay, I think we're done here. How about we get lunch, and you can try to convince me why selling this place will be worth it for me.”
Finally. This is what I've been waiting for. If he listens, I think he'll see this as a no brainer. Ryder makes a few peanut butter sandwiches, and we sit a picnic table in the back.
“I’m ready,” he says, taking a bite of his food. “Show me what you got.” Wiggling his brows, he leans back and smiles big.
“Well, you know my step-father owns the other two lots on either side of this property.” Ryder nods in agreement. “So, I'm sure you can understand how hard it is to plan a build when there's something sitting right in the middle. If you let us buy this land, you'll never have to worry about money again. I can promise you that. He's willing to go big on this, and that's not easy for him to do.”
“Was that it?” he asks.
“Yeah. What more do you need?”
“That was good, but I'm not convinced. You'll have to do way better than that.” He stands from the table, clearing our plates. “But your time is up. Back to work we go.”
Nodding his head for me to follow him, I can't stop myself from just blurting out the one question that's bugging me. It's not about the farm, it's not about my pitch, it's about the elephant in the room.
“Why did you kiss me last night?”
Flicking his head over his shoulder, he cocks a brow confused, and then I see it hit him. The memory rolls down his face like a curtain. He stops moving, his body stills, and then as it quick as it came, it's gone.
Two trucks pull into the driveway, causing Ryder to straighten his back and stand taller. He doesn't answer me, he simply ignores the question altogether, and walks to the vehicles like I said nothing at all.
I'm left with a mess of questions and no answers.
He's down there for a few minutes, laughing and chatting with someone. I'm tired of standing alone, so I make my way down to him.
“Jenna, you remember Mark right?”
I eye him for a second, and it doesn't take long for me to recognize him. “Yeah. Hey, how have you been?”
It's strange. The longer I'm here, the easier it is for me to remember things. My memories are coming cack quicker and clearer.