Page 4 of Falling For You

His head tilted slightly as he stared at me. “I wasn’t rude.”

“You weren’t friendly, which counts as rude in my book, and you’re acting all top-secret about Vern and his property. He’s our neighbor. He wouldn’t care if you told us.” There was some irritating draw to this guy, so I crossed my arms over my chest to shield myself from stupidity. “And calling me farm girl sounded like a put-down to me.”

A smile stretched across his full lips, and I clenched my jaw in annoyance.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Just like I said, I’m not really a country boy. I wasn’t putting you down, but you are, in fact, a girl on a farm.”

“Wrong.”

His brows jetted up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I’m a grown woman who owns a lodge with my family. We happen to have a petting zoo comprised of rescue animals. We don’t operate a farm. I’ve spent most of my adult life in a cramped apartment deep in the heart of a city. So, you stand corrected.” I eyed him cautiously.

“Then I stand corrected.” He nodded and twisted his lips into a sexy grin.

“Yeah, you do.”

Liddie nodded behind me, and I clung to her neck, feeling my fingers deepen into her coat.

“It was nice chatting with you, miss.” He smiled wider. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Doubt it.”

He looked surprised. “Why’s that?”

Now wasn’t the moment to explain that I was a hermit who preferred my quilt, a couple of pillows, and a good book.

“Because I’m busy.”

His eyes stayed on mine, and my belly quivered from the expression resting behind his gaze.

“I wasn’t asking you out. I merely said I’d see you around.”

“Right. No. Of course, you weren’t. I know that.” I nodded.

See? I had a knack for creating awkward situations.

“What’s your name?”

I swallowed my good sense and answered. “Violet March.”

He parted his lips slowly as if he were about to say something. But after a few seconds, he spun around, climbed in his truck, and drove away.

And that was when I realized I was probably supposed to ask him for his.

Chapter Two

Violet

I rinsed the peeled potatoes to remove the excess starch and put them into a pot of salted water. My mom had put in two chickens to roast, and I was in charge of the mashed potatoes while my sister, Fifi, made the salad.

Cooking was more than a hobby. It was a love that brought me back to Wisconsin. I’d always experimented in the kitchen and loved to share my ideas on my blog, but I’d never had much time to be consistent with it. The kitchen was my sanctuary, where I could escape from reality, focus on my creations, and put frustrations out of my head.

And right now, the frustration was the guy from earlier parading around in a fancy truck on our neighbor’s property. I hummed a little louder as I stared at the stove.

“What’s got you in a mood?” Fifi asked.

Fiona was her real name, but she preferred Fifi. She felt it fit her perky personality better, and she was right. She had this way about her that radiated joy and resilience, and she could also detect any mood shift in the room, which had its good points and its bad.

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