Page 84 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

I glance over, and Wyatt is standing there staring at me. His expression is shuttered, and I can’t tell what he's thinking.

After I grab my supplies, I go to climb over the fencing. The trough of slop is on the other side, but a good two feet fromthe fence, so there is plenty of room for me to drop down into the pen.

Before I swing my leg up over the top, Wyatt clears his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, Doc. Edwin told me about what you went through at Lachlan’s ranch. It would have been a real shame if you had been severely hurt.”

My eyes widen, and his words distract me momentarily.

“Thank you,” I say hoarsely.

Well, that explains why he was looking at me oddly. During my moments of distraction, I forget to check my surroundings. My leg collides with Oliver, and it catches me off balance. I let out a yelp as Oliver yells out my name. I try my best to hang on to the top of the fence but look over just in time to see Oliver falling face-first with me into the pig trough.

Wyatt can’t move fast enough to prevent our fall of shame, but he is bounding over the fence effortlessly.

I come up out of the muck, spewing chunks of who-knows-what. Oliver is muttering something that I can’t quite make out as he attempts to clean his glasses off. I’m stuck with my butt lodged into the trough. Reaching my hands up, I swipe my palms down my face and groan at the sticky mess I’m grinding into my skin.

A shadow appears over me, and I look up to see Wyatt biting his cheek. He offers a hand, and it takes all my strength to stay professional and not pull him into the trough for internally laughing at us.

His voice comes out gravelly, “Lachlan is going to have my hide if you are hurt.”

“This doesn’t leave this paddock,” I say, pointing a finger at Oliver and Wyatt as remnants of food drip from my sleeve. I smell like month-old cheese and am having a hard time trying not to dry-heave.

“Do you have a hose?” My question is aimed at Wyatt.

He snorts, “Yup.”

Turning on his heel, he climbs back over the fence.

Oliver waves. “You first, Aislinn. I have no desire to fall again.” I look over at him.

He has something sticking to his hair, and brown sludge is slowly tracking down the front of his shirt.

I wince, “Not my most graceful moment.”

Then I hear the distant laugh of a deep voice. Oliver and I look down toward the entrance to the barn, and Wyatt is bent over, laughing hysterically.

Oliver grimaces, “Well, he won’t forget us. My grandma always said to make a strong first impression. I’m not sure this is what she had in mind. I have this bad feeling we will be the talk of the town for this slip.”

I chuckle. “Well, I’m kind of known for falling. Also, since getting here, I don’t think I’ve had a moment out of the town spotlight.”

I then tell him about the alpaca farm debacle.

We get outside, and Wyatt is holding up a hose.

“Which one wants to get hit first?” he smirks.

Oliver literally raises his hand, and I look at him out of the side of my eye. Really? Raising his hand? But I don’t have time for a response before a hard stream of water hits him square in the chest. Wyatt hoses him down until there isn’t an ounce of dry skin, dry clothes, or slop present on his body.

He waggles his eyebrows, aiming the hose at me. I groan, and the stream of water hits me in the stomach. I slowly turn and wash myself off. I feel soaked. My jeans are plastered to my legs, and my boots are making a gross squelching sound. I step out ofmy boots and dump them upside down. At least a cup of water flows out.

A familiar gray truck comes down the road, and I bite my cheek with a groan. I’m never going to live this down.

I point at Wyatt and growl, “You are so on my Larry List.”

Oliver asks, “What's a Larry List?”

I glare at Wyatt as I explain, “I once worked with a guy named Larry. It was such an awful experience. I told him I wouldn't work for him anymore, and any time someone new annoys me, I add them to my Larry List.”

Oliver laughs. “Wyatt can't be on the Larry List. This was all your doing, Doc.”

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