At the ungodly screech of what had to be a possessed rooster, Jameson shot out of bed and bashed his shin on the bed frame. He was still hopping on one foot and swearing when there was a second cock-a-doodle-do that sounded like it was right there in the room with him, but when he turned on the light, he was alone.
He’d just survived his second night in the “haunted” cabin without seeing any ghosts. Unless ghosts screeched cock-a-doodle-do. He decided to go for a run. With his heart still trying to burst out of his chest, he pulled on sweats, opened the cabin door, and came face-to-face with a massive rooster, who spread his wings, ducked his head low, and charged.
Reacting without thinking, he raised his arms and yelled, “Back!”
The rooster pulled up short and leveled an eye at him, but slowly backed away.
“Terrorizing the local fowl?”
He turned and found Luna looking like maybe she wanted to laugh. “You’ve got it backward,” he muttered. “And what the hell was that thing?”
“Wyatt Chirp. He’s actually super shy and sweet. He was just looking for a handout.”
“Shy? Sweet?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yep.” She crouched low and made a clucking sound.
Wyatt Chirp came running back, wings extended, making continuous happy sounds as he basically threw himself at her.
Luna caught him and scratched his chest. Then she pulled something out of a pocket, which Wyatt Chirp gobbled up, then clucked out a possible “thank you” and left.
Jameson had to laugh. She was the prettiest Dr. Dolittle he’d ever seen.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asked.
“Sure. Except for the ghost.”
Her mouth fell open and he grinned.
She shook her head. “Funny.”
“Hey, I’m a good time.”
“Are you though?”
This made him laugh. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I don’t get mad. I get even.”
He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he liked her grumpy side. He also liked her pissed-off side. They made her real. But his favorite was her playful side, because it brought out his, which he didn’t get to use often. Fact was, he liked all her sides, which spelled nothing but trouble. “You start work early.”
“At oh-dark-thirty,” she said. “Shep and Jeb have two guys out today, so I’m lending a hand.”
“On top of all your other roles.”
“Yes. Well, except for the accounting that you took over, so thanks for that because it saves me a lot of time.”
“I’m here, I’m going to pull my weight.”
“Appreciate it,” she said. “We all tend to handle whatever’s needed.”
“Who handles your . . . whatever?”
Was that a blush hitting her cheeks? Stepping closer, then closer still, he bent his knees a little to better see her face. Yep. A blush. He laughed softly. “I’d give my week’s salary to know what you’re thinking. Preferably in great detail.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I’m going to dignify that with a response.” She started to walk away.
“Luna.”
She shot back.
He smiled. “I’d be happy to handle your . . . whatever . . . any day of the week.”
She studied him for a long moment, then shook her head. “You had your chance.”
“And if I said I’d like another?”
“Then I’d say it’s a bad idea.”
No kidding. It was a terrible idea. Didn’t stop him from wanting it though. Or wanting her.
“We’re polar opposites,” she said. “I’m a people pleaser, and you’re . . .”
He smiled. “Not? You’re right. But there’s a compromise in there somewhere.”
“Yeah, and it’s called love and happiness, which neither of us is any good at.”
He laughed ruefully because he recognized the truth when he heard it. When she was gone, he took that run, then showered, dressed, and headed out. A few minutes later, he walked into the office building, looking for a place to work. He’d tried the staff room—too crowded. He’d also tried the front room. Too small, too cluttered, and whenever he did sit there, any guests who wandered in tended to turn to him like he was the receptionist, usually wanting to know where the restroom was.
He acquisitioned a folding table he’d seen leaning against a wall in the hall, taking it to Luna’s office. She had a walk-in closet just behind her door. Possibly his shower in his cabin was bigger, but it was private. Unfortunately, it was also filled to the gills, this one with file boxes dating back a decade. Stacking them more neatly against one wall, he was able to make enough room to squeeze in the folding table. He snagged a chair from the staff room and voilà . . . he had a makeshift office. Sure, he had to climb over the folding table to get in and out, and in doing that twice already had bashed his sore shin, but the quiet was worth it.
He was working away when he heard the now familiar “bleeeat” and then tiny hooves trying to climb up his legs. With a sigh, he scooped up Dammit Ziggy—in SpongeBob pj’s today. “I think you should’ve been named Houdini.”
DZ set his head on Jameson’s chest and looked up at him with a content expression on his face, and he knew he was in trouble. Ignoring the warm feels spreading through him, Jameson shifted the goat so he could work with him in his lap. DZ instantly fell asleep, drooling on Jameson’s jeans.
Yes, jeans. He’d given up on professionalism.
He went back to work on his project of taking the farm into the twenty-first century. For the millionth time, he wondered what the actual hell Silas had been thinking, leaving the farm’s bookkeeping on paper only, no backup system . . . It went against the grain of everything the old man had ever taught him. The only thing he could think was that Silas had enjoyed the secrecy of it all, keeping this place separate from everything else.
And the more time he spent here, the more he understood it. He’d come into this thinking he’d put in the time he’d promised, then he’d sell his portion, or encourage Luna to sell to the investors.
Now he wasn’t so sure. If it wasn’t so absolutely crazy to even think it, he might be scared that the place was actually growing on him.
He heard footsteps coming his way and looked up just as Stella peeked around the open closet door at him.
“Here, Hot Stuff.” She set a hot coffee on the corner of his makeshift desk. She eyed the goat in his lap, and then Jameson’s long legs bent awkwardly, bumping up against the table. “You good?”
“I’ve worked with less room before.” Which was true. He never knew what kind of space he’d find to work in when he was sent into a company. Hell, once in a particularly hostile situation, he’d worked in his rental car for weeks on end. “I’ve never had an emotional support goat before.”
She laughed. “I knew it. I knew you had a sense of humor. It was written in the lines of your palm.”
“Speaking of palms, you’re pretty quick with yours,” he said. “You’re very good.”
With a wink, she turned to go.
“Stella.”
She shot an innocent smile his way. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are gorgeous?” she asked.
He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers.
“Damn.” But she handed over the pen she’d just stolen. “I must be losing my touch.”
He simply smiled. “No, I’m just also very good.”
She tipped her head back and laughed.
Ten minutes later, Milo came by to see if Luna was in and went brows up at Jameson behind the door. “Honey, never let anyone put you in the closet.” Then he set a book on the table.
#FollowMe, by Milo Young. “It’s about my experiences as a social media influencer,” he said. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but you seem like the studious type who enjoys reading, so I thought I’d kiss up and thank you for letting me park my ass here for free and write.”
“I look like the studious type?”
Milo grinned. “Actually, some might say you look like an uptight accountant, but hey, not judging. I think nerds are sexy as hell.”
Jameson didn’t know where to go with that, so he took another direction. “You park your ass here for free?” He already knew the answer. He had it on his list of things to discuss with Luna on a day he felt like being murdered.
Milo flashed a smile. “Well, yes. But I’m dedicating my book to the farm, and my social media and newsletters bring in lots of visitors, so . . .” He gave a finger wave, murmured “toodles,” and was gone.
“He’s pretty, isn’t he?”
Jameson looked up just as Chef set a small brown bag on his desk. “A breakfast sandwich,” the guy said. “Five stars, if I say so myself. Hope you’re not looking after your cholesterol.”
Jameson made a show of looking past Chef. “Is there some sort of schedule to spy on the new guy, or are you all just insanely nosy?”
“Both.” Chef smiled. “Don’t be insulted. It means we like you. Well, I like you. And Stella and Milo like you. Pretty sure Willow doesn’t give a shit about anything right now, which has nothing to do with you. And Luna . . . Well.” He shrugged.
“Well what?” He didn’t know why he asked. Clearly the circus was getting to him.
Chef’s smile faded some. “She’s been through a lot, so she holds back with anyone new. I blame her parents and the exes who hurt her.”
Jameson stilled. “Exes hurt her? Plural?”
“Emotionally.”
“Just as bad,” Jameson said, fighting his inner caveman, who wanted to track down anyone who’d caused her pain.
“Well, you know what happened with her and me,” Chef said. “And though I had to be true to myself, I hated that it hurt her. I still love her, you know. So much.” He shook his head. “But the ass who came around after me was way worse.”
“How?”
“Wanted her to change who she was.” Chef’s jaw tightened. “Gaslit her for a little bit into thinking she wasn’t enough, but you can’t fool Luna for long. She dumped him when she realized what he was doing to her confidence. It left a mark though.”
Jameson drew a careful breath. “Where is he now?”
“Long gone, and don’t worry, way ahead of you.” Chef smiled darkly. “He came into the Bright Spot one day and briefly left his phone unattended at the table. I changed his mom’s name to the girl he cheated on Luna with. Later, we heard through the grapevine he sent his mom a dick pic.”
Jameson smiled his approval. “Creative.”
“Oh, it gets better. Milo went into his IG account and posted a story as him that read: I’m an asshole, don’t date me, and then we turned off his notifications.”
That gave him a rough laugh. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
Not two minutes after Chef left, Luna walked right past him to her desk, yelling over her shoulder, “Who left my closet door open? Shayne said we need to keep this door closed! Fire hazard—”
Jameson stuck his foot out to stop the door from closing on him.
Squeaking in surprise, Luna yanked the door open again to stare at him behind it, her mouth dropping in shock. “What are you doing in there?”
Before he could answer, the radio on her hip crackled. “Luna, darling, your mom’s on the phone again,” Stella said.
Luna groaned and pulled the radio off her hip. “Take a message.”
“No can do,” Stella radioed back. “She says if I don’t put you through, she’s going to show up here.”
Luna face-palmed. “The last time she was here, Kong pooped on her new shoes and I can’t hear that story again. Tell her no!”
“You know I’d do anything for you, honey, but she’s still not speaking to me. I sorta, um, dated her best friend’s father, and he gave me the diamond necklace that Donna had been hoping to get. I mean, honestly. I can’t help that she was always mean to him and he didn’t want her to have it. Or that I’m so irresistible.”
Luna sighed and hit herself in the forehead with the radio a few times. “Dammit.”
Dammit Ziggy lifted his sweet little head, eyes sleepy as he blinked at Luna questioningly from Jameson’s lap.
“Not you, baby,” Luna said soothingly, and hit speaker on the phone on her desk. “Hey, Mom. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call my work unless it was an emergency. My cell phone works, you know.”
“You never answer your cell, and this is an emergency. Stacy from Bunco told me you haven’t applied for that job with her son yet. Luna, it’s a huge medical group. You’d be assisting the staff and making excellent money with a great benefits package. You could even go back to school and—”
“Mom.” Luna closed her eyes for a beat. “I’ve got a job.”
“That’s exactly it, Luna. It’s a job, not a career. And in ten years you’re going to look back and regret that you didn’t get yourself a grown-up career.”
Wincing for her, Jameson stood up to give her some privacy, swinging one leg over the table to climb out. Luna shook her head, waving him to sit back down, signaling she was almost done.
“Are you going to come to dinner this week?” Luna’s mom asked.
“I’ll try, but we’re super busy here. Several team meetings. Thanks for calling, Mom. Talk soon.” She disconnected and dropped her head back, staring at the ceiling.
“I didn’t hear about any team meetings,” Jameson said.
“That’s because there aren’t any.” She let out a long exhale. “I’m probably going to hell in a handbasket. It’s not her fault I’m the family screwup.”
“You’re not a screwup. You’re just different from your mom.”
She looked at him, eyes curious. “And you? Are you different from your mom?”
He smiled. “Very.”
“She was a good mom?”
“The best.” His smile faded. “But I wasn’t always a good son.”
She looked at him for a long beat. “I bet she knew you tried.”
“I hope.”
She looked away. Hesitated. “I’m not the best daughter either. My mom means well. We just don’t see eye to eye. I mean, she loves me. She really does. But she’s also going to be the one staring down at my open casket asking my cold, dead body if that’s really what I’m wearing.”
“Your grandfather used to ask me that too.”
That earned him a full-bellied laugh. “So that’s why you’re always dressed so nice.”
“Not today.”
“I noticed.” She eyed him. “Nice jeans.”
“Right back at you,” he said, and she blushed again, which given how tough she was really cracked him up.
“So what are you doing in my closet?” she asked.
“Working. Quietest place I could find.”
She sighed. “Wish I could say the same. Besides being myself and one of the farmhands today, I’ve got a busted water line in the irrigation system at the botanical gardens, which means we had to turn the water off, which also means that the public utility department’s gotta be called to get out here ASAP or plants are going to start dying. I’ve also got a meeting with a possible new tenant for the empty space in the Square.” She ran a hand over her eyes like maybe she was exhausted.
There was something about her that made him want to solve all her problems. It made no sense. She was the most capable woman he’d ever met. “I could take your meeting, or call the PUD for you. Or both.”
She dropped her hand and gave him a look like maybe he hung the moon. “You’d do that?”
“Partners, right?”
“Thank you,” she said with feeling. “I’ll take the meeting if you don’t mind making the call. It’ll take longer than you think to get through. Just don’t let them walk all over you. Because if they sense a weakness, they will.”
“There’s not a weak bone in my body.”
She laughed, and he went brows up. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to insult your manhood or anything, but we all have our weaknesses. Even you, tough guy.”
He smiled. “You let me know when you find it.”
Looking intrigued, she ran her gaze over him, and this time she didn’t blush.
Progress.