Desperation filled him.
A desperation to be free.
And to not let his grandfather win.
And yet…
Where would that leave him?
Another funeral?
Another obituary?
Another ghost.
The donkey made a strangled noise and kicked dirt into the air once they reached the barn. Brock let out a frustrated sigh.
The door to the barn was completely open. A horse neighed and then trotted out toward him.
“Buttercup!” He smiled. “Come here, girl.”
The horse stopped, swished her tail, then turned away and trotted off.
“Well, at least I have you, Fred.”
There was no response.
He turned around.
“Fred?” Where the hell had the ass gone?
A gaggle of geese walked by, followed by a few chicks. Just then, he heard the cock.
Like in some horrible Western movie, the rooster stared him down from the other side of the barn, where light filtered in from the hole in the roof like a spotlight on the scene.
“Just you and me, eh?” Brock wondered if the fact that he was talking to the cock meant he was just as insane as his grandfather.
The cock kicked the dirt.
Brock did the same.
And then, the damn thing charged him.
Unsure of what to do, Brock stood his ground, until it started flapping up in his face.
He swatted it away and when it still wouldn’t stop attacking him, he ran back to the house to get a gun. He’d just come barreling through the kitchen door when he slammed into Jane, sending the skillet and eggs she’d scrambled all over the floor.
“Son of a bitch!” Brock yelled.
The rooster crowed.
Jane’s eyes widened as she locked on to what he assumed was the cock behind him. “The door’s open.”
“I’m going to kill it.” Brock jerked the screen door shut just before the rooster slammed into it, throwing a fit.
A few feathers went flying.
“Question.” Brock turned to Jane, who was brandishing the frying pan like a weapon. “Can you eat cock?”
The words were out before he could take them back.
“Are you asking about me, personally? Or people in general? Because I’m sure, given your reputation, you already know the answer to that question,” Jane said in a cheerful voice.
Brock looked heavenward and then turned around. “I meant the rooster.”
“Did you, though?” She asked coyly. A silent taunt rose out of those eyes, and then she pressed her lips together in a way that had him hard in seconds.
The rooster started flapping again.
“Still got that gun?” he asked.
“You aren’t shooting the cock.”
He grinned. “Cock?”
“I mean rooster.” She blushed bright red.
“Did you, though?”
“Very funny.”
She grabbed some paper towels and started cleaning the eggs off the floor.
“Let me help.” He knelt beside her but she jerked away from him.
“I’ve got it. After all, you told me I needed to do my damn job, right?”
Brock opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
“I’m going to be cleaning the upstairs bathrooms along with the two extra guest rooms on the far end of the hall. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
He didn’t want her to leave.
But what could he do to get her to stay?
Nothing.
Because her job was not to entertain him or save him from farm animals.
But then she turned and gave him a half-shy smile, and he knew self-preservation was all that mattered.
Push her away.
He pasted an arrogant grin on his face. “But what about breakfast?”
“That wasn’t part of the job description,” she said slowly. “Your grandfather said—”
“I just talked with him last night. He said you’re here to help get the house ready for the new tenants, right?” God, he was a jackass.
She gave him a weak nod.
“And since I’m the new tenant, don’t you think that probably extends to cooking? You’re already cleaning, and it is part of your service, you know.”
“Service?” There was that fiery glint again. Perhaps this wasn’t his best idea. But he just couldn’t seem to stop himself from being an ass.
“It says Cinderella Cleaning and Housekeeping on your nice shiny van.” He’d seen it on his way out to the barn and done a double take over the silly tiara on the side. Maid service. Didn’t that mean she cooked, too? “If you don’t cook that’s false advertising. At least, that’s what I’ll say when I give you a review on Yelp.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you threatening me?” Her chest heaved. He tried to look away. Tried and failed.
“That depends. Will you cook?”
Her hands balled into tight fists. “You know you could have asked nicely and I might have said yes. You don’t have to be an ass. We already have Fred.”