Page 6 of The Billionaire and the Runaway

“I’m Eric Windsor. This is my farm. Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” he offers.

Swallowing, I look to the door where he’s pointing. “My office is just over there. There’s a bathroom and a laundry room. I’m sure we have some Windsor Farm gear you can borrow.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” I mutter as I glance back at the door. It’s on a wing of a house that sticks off the back of the home. There’s a path of pebbles and stepping stones leading up to a dark red door. It has a window in the top half. There’s not anyone around us and I suddenly question if I should go inside a house with a man I don’t know.

As if sensing my concern, he pulls out his phone and dials a number. “Joy, we have a guest who slipped in the pigpen. Mind bringing us out a towel?”

“Sure thing,” a woman’s voice responds.

Eric places the phone back in his pocket as an older woman opens the red door and walks out toward us holding a towel.

“Oh my. You poor child. Why don’t you come inside? It’s a bit chilly today. I think we have some Windsor Farm T-shirts and sweatpants. We can get you changed and warmed up and I’ll clean your clothes,” she says as she hands me a towel. I wipe my face and stare at the mud on the towel. How dirty am I?

“There’s a shower in the bathroom, just by the office. It’s all yours,” she urges as she gently takes my arm and guides me inside.

I follow her. I feel Eric walking behind us. His big looming presence feels more like a security detail than anything threatening.

“Let’s see here. Well, we don’t have anything in your size,” Joy says as she looks me up and down. “I’m Joy, by the way. Joy Crushner. Let’s see…well, it’ll have to do for now. The shower is in here and the washer and dryer are just here,” she adds, pointing to the two rooms that are side by side in a hallway that looks like it leads into the house, seemingly connecting what appears to be an office space to what looks like a lived-in home beyond a glass-plated French door.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I accept the clothes and walk into the bathroom. I shut the door and stare at the absolute disaster that is me. I’m completely coated in mud like I went to some day spa. At least I think it’s mud. Ewww! I smell myself. Gross.

“Let me know if you need anything. There should be fresh towels in the linen closet,” Joy’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Thank you,” I mutter as I open a small closet door and find fluffy blue towels. Well, at least they smell clean. I disrobe and shower quickly. Thankful for the hot water. As I’m drying off, I glance in the mirror and shudder. There’s no way this man is going to hire me. I look like a drowned rat and already proved that I can’t be trusted on a farm.

Tears well in my eyes again. I try to blink them away as I towel dry my curly, red hair. I look so bland without makeup on, and these clothes are two sizes too big. I look like a child pretending to be an adult.

Sighing at my ruined boots. I wrap my clothes into the discarded towel and open the door. I slide into the laundry room and stare at the washer. I know what it is. I just only have used one once. And I completely forget the instructions my friends gave me that time. Freshman year, Dad got me a laundry service when I was forced to live in the dorms, and after that, I had an apartment he paid for and a cleaning service.

“You have a college degree. How hard can this be?” I whisper as I open the top lid and plop the soiled clothes and towel into the basin. I close it because that makes sense. Then I stare at the panel in the back. There are so many options.

“Did you find everything alright?” Joy asks as she suddenly appears in the doorframe.

I jump and clutch my heart.

“You are like a scared little rabbit, aren’t you? Well, never mind that. Nothing scary around here. Other than Earl, but he won’t bite. Now, let’s see.” Joy adjusts some glasses on her nose and looks at the panel. “It’s been a hot minute, but I believe this is the setting you need.” She presses some buttons and the machine turns on.

“There, all set. Oh, let’s get you a pair of socks while you wait. It’s cold in the office,” she says. “I’ll be right back. Have a seat on the sofa,” she adds as she walks into the house. I can see a really nice kitchen beyond the door but not much else.

I turn to walk back into the office and instead run smack-dab into Eric.

“Whoa,” he says in that low voice.

“Sorry,” I squeak as I take a step back.

I look up at him. He’s giving me a once-over as if he can’t quite make out what I am.

I take a deep breath and hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Ariana…Harlow,” I say, deciding using my full name with “Titan” on the end would be a bad idea since all my résumés said Harlow. I’ve gone by Ariana Harlow in most professional settings because I hate being labeled by nepotism. And Harlow is my middle name and was my mother’s maiden name, so it’s not a lie.

He frowns in what appears to be confusion as he reaches out to shake my hand. “Did you apply for a job here?” he asks.

I nod and give him my best smile while trying not to enjoy the warmth and abrasiveness of his big hand wrapped around mine. He releases it and I immediately feel a loss but maintain my smile. “I did. I, uh, happened to be in the area and thought I’d stop by in person.” I look down and then smile sheepishly up at him. “I didn’t expect such an unusual first impression.”

His lips twitch, fighting a grin, but then it breaks through anyhow, and fuck me. This man goes from a ten-out-of-ten to a twenty-out-of-ten when he smiles.

“Well, I’m glad you came by. I’m sorry Petunia knocked you down,” he says as he motions toward the pigpen with his head.

“Petunia? Was that the…” I trail off as I now fight a grin. Of course, this man named his pig Petunia.

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