Page 2 of Stalked By the Farmer

Misty shrugs, a soft smile curving her lips. "What are friends for?"

Friends. The word is a sharp reminder of my place in her life. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, blinking back the sting in my eyes.

After we eat, Misty lies back on the blanket, closing her eyes as she soaks in the sun. I can't take my eyes off her, drinking in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. She's always been beautiful, but now there's a new maturity to her features, a confidence in the way she moves and speaks.

I wonder if she has a boyfriend, then force the thought away. It's been hell being her best friend all these years, hearing her speak of the guys she had crushes on, watching them ask her out.

Having to come up with secret ways to sabotage their relationship. God, she'd hate me if she knew, but I couldn't just stand by and watch these other guys take what'smine.

Misty tilts her face toward me, one eye cracking open. "You're staring again."

Heat floods my cheeks. I look away, scrambling for an excuse. "Just thinking about all the summers we spent down here as kids."

"I miss those days." She sighs, pushing up on her elbows. "Things were so much simpler then, you know?"

I nod, staring out at the rippling creek.If only you knew how I felt about you, even back then. "Yeah, they were."

Silence falls between us, weighted with words unsaid. My heart pounds as I struggle to find the courage to tell her the truth.

But of course I don't, chickenshit that I am.

* * *

* * *

The sun peeks over the horizon, its golden light filtering through the leaves of the old oak trees that line the dirt road leading up to my farmhouse. I breathe in the fresh scent of dew clinging to the grass, mingled with the earthy aroma of manure from the chicken coop.

My boots crunch on the gravel as I make my way to the big red barn, the familiar sounds of morning on the farm enveloping me—the lowing of cattle in the field, the rustle of corn stalks in the breeze, the chirping of crickets fading into the background. I roll up the large doors of the barn, sunlight spilling across the dusty floorboards and cobwebbed rafters overhead.

The animals stir at the sound, a few hens clucking as they hop down from their roosts. My chest swells with purpose and pride, the fruits of my labor laid out before me.

After the chickens are fed and the cattle turned out to pasture, I head inside for a quick breakfast, exhaustion seeping into my bones. The old clock on the wall ticks away the seconds, reminding me of how much work is left to be done.

Yet my mind keeps drifting to Misty. To the curve of her smile, the sparkle in her eye, the way I can lose myself for hours just listening to her talk about nothing and everything.

Dropping my head into my hands, I groan. What's the point in pining after something I can never have? She's my best friend, nothing more. I have to accept that and move on, no matter how much the thought carves a hole inside my chest.

Misty deserves better than a love-struck fool who can't tell her the truth. The words were on the tip of my tongue the other day, but they stuck in my throat—as they always do.

With a heavy sigh, I push away from the table and get back to work. The animals won't feed themselves, after all, and the farm won't run itself either.

There are still chores left to do.

I head outside, greeted by the usual chorus of moos, clucks, and neighs. My faithful dog Max trots at my heels as I make my rounds, feeding the chickens, pigs, and horses. They crowd around me, eager and impatient, and I can't help but smile. At least I have them.

"Easy now," I murmur, patting a few fuzzy heads. "There's plenty to go around."

When I unlatch the gate to the pasture, the cattle come thundering over. I dump two bales of hay from the pickup, and they descend upon it ravenously.

Max hops up into the bed of the truck, settling down with a contented huff. I lean against the tailgate, staring out at the rolling hills and vibrant wildflowers. The sun is climbing higher into the sky, burnishing everything with a golden glow.

It's moments like this especially that I wish Misty were here. To stand beside me in companionable silence, soaking in the beauty and simplicity of the land. She's the only one who truly understands why I chose this life, the peace I find in the work.

But it all seems hollow without the reason for it all by my side.

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. She won't change her mind.

"What am I going to do, Max?" My voice cracks, and I blink back the sting in my eyes. My dog lets out a soft whine, nudging my hand with his muzzle.

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