Page 20 of The Billionaire and the Maid

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but I got this.”

“I hope so,” she mutters before returning her gaze to the French press in front of her.

“I hope so too,” I whisper to myself as I step into the hallway.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Chase

“Well, that went well,” I state as I drive us down the road to Windsor Farms. I know the owner, Eric, but I haven’t spoken to him in a while.

“Right,” Ella says in a low, barely audible voice. She’s been very quiet since we left the house. I realize she’s probably used to normal people and normal conversations, unlike my parents who are anything but normal. I know they mean well, but sometimes, they are so irritating. Like when they require that I get a girlfriend for image reasons. I probably should be more pissed off than I am. But I’m too focused on the potential to present the board with my idea in a few weeks. If I only have to appease my parents’ ridiculous requirements for a set number of days, then so be it. I just wish they’d see it my way. I hope I can get them to change their minds.

I pull into a parking spot, cursing the gravel. I wish Eric would pave this area. Ella insisted she change before coming out here. So, we stopped by her place. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater and looking much more like herself than she did earlier. I like her like this. She’s authentic in a way that the women I hang around normally are not.

“Where to?” I ask as we walk up to the red barn. Peeking inside, I see it’s filled with produce. About twenty patrons are milling around. I don’t see Eric, which is good. I didn’t give much thought to explaining this girlfriend situation, at least not beyond my parents. Having to retell our story over and over seems…well, tedious.

“Over here,” she says, motioning me to a corner where there are vegetables strewn in a bin. And they are in fact ugly.

“You don’t want those squash?” I ask, pointing to a display of neatly round pumpkins and perfectly symmetrical zucchini.

“Nope, these will do,” she says as she picks up a few and places them in a bag she brought.

“Do these taste better?” I ask, frowning in total confusion.

“Uhhh…I don’t think so,” she replies as she heads toward the checkout line.

“Then, you should get one of these,” I state as we step in front of the bin of zucchini.

“Oh. Uh, no, thanks. I’m good,” she insists as she clutches her bag of ugly vegetables. I start to consider buying her one but then, for the first time in a long time, I second-guess myself. Should I not buy one for her? Is that…overstepping? What the fuck? Why am I even thinking like this?

My thoughts are broken when the cashier, a young man who looks to be in his late teens, greets Ella.

“Hey, Ella. Did you make that squash soup recipe I told you about?” he asks as he takes her five-dollar bill and hands her change. Shit, maybe I should start having the staff buy ugly vegetables, they are so cheap.

“I did. It was really good. You guys should post some of them out there. I bet more people would buy squash,” she suggests, sticking her change back in her pocket.

“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll have to suggest that to Eric,” the kid says. “You two have a good day.”

“You too, Kingsley,” she replies as she walks out toward the car, but then changes directions. I’m about to ask where the hell she’s going when I see her pull a carrot out of her bag and approach a white mare that’s standing by the fence.

“Well, hello there, Snuggles,” she says as she holds out the carrot. The horse lives up to its name and snuggles against her before chomping away on the carrot. She pets its nose gently and smiles up at it.

The horse finishes and starts trying to stick its head in the bag.

Ella laughs, a full belly laugh of complete spontaneous happiness, and something inside me is drawn right to her side. The sound is so familiar, like coming home.

“Who’s your friend?” I ask as I pat the horse on the neck. She turns to me and rubs her head against my arm. I chuckle at the affectionate beast.

“This is Snuggles,” she says with a grin still stretched across her face.

“Hi there, Snuggles. I see you like ugly vegetables,” I state.

The horse whinnies and Ella giggles. “She does. She’s a good girl, isn’t she?” Snuggles responds with another whinny.

“You really do like horses?” I ask as I watch Ella stroke Snuggles on her neck. The way her hand moves mirrors the motions one would make if they were brushing the horse as if she’s done that before. Maybe Ella has worked at a farm?

“I do. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were my favorite animal,” she replies as she stares fondly at the horse.

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