This Hero for Hire

by Cynthia Thomason

  He stared at some faraway place in the driveway as if he were imagining himself miles from this patch of Blue Ridge land.

  She reached up, cupped his chin in her hand and forced him to focus on her face. “We can do this. I promise I won’t sneak out again. I won’t get in trouble. I’ll follow your rules. Just promise me you won’t leave.”

  He released a long breath. “You won’t get in trouble?” He asked the question as if he didn’t believe it for one minute.

  “No. I swear.”

  “I’m not going to leave,” he said. “That’s the part I decided on the drive back. But as far as the rules go, there can be no bending, no breaking, no personal interpretations,” he said. “I don’t know why your father wanted me to watch you. Maybe he was truly afraid that something might happen to you. Or maybe he was afraid that you were your own worst enemy. Either way, it all boils down to trouble. You find it. It finds you.”

  “I know. But no more trouble, I promise. You may think I don’t appreciate you, but I do. Because of you, our project is working, forging ahead.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Because of you, I feel safe for the first time in my life.”

  A chuckle seemed to slide out of the corner of his mouth. “That may be carrying my importance a bit too far. You’ve grown up with security guards, a father who obviously dotes on you, a mother who...”

  “That’s only how it looks,” she said. “But the reality is, I grew up alone and lonely. I’m not looking for your sympathy, but that’s the simple truth. My father doted on me until I was fifteen, and he decided he couldn’t take another minute of my screwups. And then I was shipped off to boarding school. My mother loves me, but mostly she’s amused by me. She loves when I yank Albee’s chains, which really I don’t do to upset him. My family is so far from the typical, normal family that we grow in Georgia. A family like the Braddocks. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

  He sat very still, listening.

  “I used to get in trouble...”

  His eyebrows rose. “Used to?”

  “Okay, I used to get in trouble on purpose. I did crazy things in high school.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I remember one in particular.”

  Her past went through her mind until the kiss suddenly appeared front and center. “Oh, no, not that. When I kissed you, that wasn’t crazy. I had the world’s number-one crush on you. You were the coolest guy in high school. You had the most friends. People worshipped you because of football. Come on, Boone, you were even president of your class.”

  He looked down at his hands clasped between his knees. “All that stuff, it doesn’t matter...”

  “It mattered to me. I knew you were out of my league, that you had so many friends and girlfriends...”

  “You thought I was out of your league?” His lips curved into an odd little grin she couldn’t interpret.

  “Of course! But I was who I was, the governor’s bold teenage daughter who knew she could get out of whatever havoc she caused, so I drew you into the gym that day to...” She laughed. “...have my way with you, I guess.”

  “And I disappointed you.”

  “Yeah, you did. I had your reaction all figured out in my dreams. You were supposed to take me in your arms and thank me for opening your eyes to the best thing that ever happened to you, but you didn’t. And I walked out of school that day crying my eyes out.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t want you to say anything. It happened almost two decades ago. But the point is, that kiss mattered to me. And you matter to me now, and I’m finally mature enough to admit it.” The words had come so easily from her lips because they were true. “I don’t want you to leave, Boone. Stay with me through the two months you promised.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “Heck, cowboy, you don’t even have a full month left on your penance. Surely you can do that much time.”

  “If we’re being honest here...”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to make it sound like my time with you is a punishment or a test of manhood I have to pass to go on to the next step.” He took her hand in both of his. “You have moments of near tolerability.”

  She laughed. “Nice to know. Even if last night and this morning aren’t two of them.”

  “And that kiss from seventeen years ago? I can’t say that I think about it on a daily basis or anything...”

  She affected indignant shock. “You don’t?”

  “No. Somehow it got overshadowed by that kiss from a couple of weeks ago. Now that was a kiss!”

  She smiled. “You mean we’ve reached the pinnacle of kisses? No chance to improve on that one?”

  “I don’t mean that at all.” He cupped his hand around her neck. “I think we may be able to top it.” He leaned in and took her mouth for a full, hungry, no-holds-barred kiss that went on forever—or at least as long as a kiss in the broad daylight could last. When it was over, she felt lightheaded, as if the kiss were part of a fantasy she’d only dreamed about.

  “I’ll stay,” he said. “But my rules, Susannah. I’ve got to be able to trust you, and that means I’ll have to know where you are every minute.”

  She stood and extended her hand to him. He grasped it and rose. “It will be my pleasure to tell you, Officer Braddock. Right now I’m going in for breakfast. What do you say? Wanna join me?”

  He followed her inside.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOU WANT A COW?” Boone could only assume that he’d heard incorrectly.

  “Yes, very much,” Susannah said.

  “It isn’t even your birthday.”

  “I know it’s an odd request, but a field rep from Sustainable Harvest International is coming in a couple of days to check on our progress.”

  Boone had heard about the upcoming visit by a federal organic farming specialist from everyone on Susannah’s team, and Susannah herself, at least a half-dozen times. Apparently getting the attention from someone at SHI was equivalent to sharing a beer with the president, but, in Boone’s opinion, not nearly as fun.

  “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t see the connection,” he said. “Does the guy from SHI need to see a cow in residence in order to have your land qualify as a real farm?”

  “No, that would be silly.”

  Of course it would.

  “But I need cow urine, and the best place to get it would be...”

  “From a cow?” he finished for her.

  “Yes. I can go to a lab in Athens and get a few gallons of it, but my Suburban is filled with tools, so I’d have to borrow your truck, and you’d insist on coming with me, of course.”

  Boone could almost feel the miles of bumpy road they’d have to traverse just to reach the highway to Athens, and he could well imagine how his truck would smell if one of those gallon jugs happened to roll over on the way back to Mount Union. “And Omar’s Ford?” he said.

  “Stuart is driving it to town today to pick up our bags of Epsom salts. The local druggist ran out and had to order more from his supplier.”

  Ah, this was one explanation that Boone actually understood. In the two weeks since he and Susannah had come to a truce, he’d learned more than he’d ever thought possible about sustainable farming. The Epsom salts would be used to deter beetles and slugs, and because so much of the household substance had been sprinkled on plant leaves, even deer and rabbits had avoided the buffet table that was now Susannah’s pride and joy. But cow urine?

  “What about Randy’s truck?” he asked. If they could get it out of impound, a bit of spilled cow urine wouldn’t make much difference to that twenty-five-year old relic.

  “Don’t think it would make it to Athens,” she said. “The trip from Oregon was pretty much a last gasp for Randy’s vehicle.”

 
; “So the best of our options seems to be to bring the source of the cow urine to the barn?” he said.

  “Right. I’ll just need the cow for the remainder of our experiment.” Her face brightened. “Perhaps you could rent one?”

  “No problem. I’ll just call National Cow Rental and reserve a midsize.”

  “That’s funny. Anyway, if I can leave cow procurement up to you, I’ll get back to work. Make sure whoever gives you a temporary cow has a trailer to transport it.”

  “Yes, that would be a good idea. And Susannah?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think it will be a permanent cow. Once animals are born cows, they usually stay that way.”

  She appeared to think about what he’d said and then smiled. “Another funny one, Boone. You’re a comedian today.” Boone watched her walk over to her group in the field. She was right. He was all of a sudden a funny guy. And cheerful and sometimes even goofy. And often dirty and smelly, like when he mixed garlic with vinegar and orange peels with mineral oil. Who’d have thought that he would get into this whole farming business? But he’d always been a quick study, especially if he wasn’t force-fed facts in a classroom, and this kind of education felt more like play. To him, maybe, but not to Susannah. So, for her, he listened and watched and learned.

  Consequently, he added to his knowledge of what made his home state the best possible place to live in America. That was certainly a perk of his job as an interim farmer—a good one, but definitely not the best.

  Boone could almost convince himself that he’d spent the past two weeks in a state of marital bliss, much like he’d always dreamed about. Okay, a main component was missing, but he was a patient man. He and Susannah had been comfortable and easy with each other. They’d touched when passing, teased when talking, cuddled a bit during movies and kissed a lot. Not enough, but a lot. Yes, he was violating Albee Rhodes’s instructions, but enough of Susannah’s behavior had rubbed off on him to make him believe some things were worth the risk.

  He knew better than to rush Susannah. As far as he knew, she was still looking forward to new locations, new places to introduce her methods of organic farming. She’d never made a secret of her desire to head off with Omar once this farm was up and running smoothly.

  If everything worked out as she hoped, she would own forty acres of Braddock land and the sustainable farm would go on for generations. Of course, Boone could undermine her purpose by continuing to refuse to sell her the property. But he didn’t believe that would make her stay. In fact, she might become so disappointed in him that she would end up even more determined to follow her career out of Georgia.

  Still, Boone couldn’t help himself. His thoughts veered toward a future with Susannah, a forever life, maybe right here in this old farmhouse. He often thought of his two nieces and let himself believe that such a scenario—family, kids, a dog—could be his. And once he made some improvements, his grandfather’s house would be the perfect place to raise a family. And whenever he thought about raising and protecting a family in the old house, it was Susannah who came to mind even though he had no idea if she would want to stay in Mount Union, with him.

  In spite of the immediate pleasure that being with Susannah was offering him, Boone was just starting to experience the first pangs of loneliness that thoughts of her leaving presented. The prospect of returning to his old job, a job he loved, wasn’t enough to compensate for having to say goodbye when Susannah moved on. Certain words made his chest squeeze. He’d watch her in private conversations with Omar, and a cloud would dampen his dreamscape as they discussed “the next location” or “future plans.”

  “Don’t rush her, Boone,” he kept reminding himself. “It’s not like she’s leaving tomorrow.” Yet every impulse, every nerve ending in his body was screaming for him to charge headlong into whatever relationship he and Susannah could have together for however long they could have it. He wanted more of her. He wanted all of her before she packed up for greener, more sustainable pastures.

  Which is why he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a familiar number. “Willy, this is Boone,” he said to his longtime friend. “Have you got a cow I can borrow?” He laughed. “You heard me right. A cow. One that pees a lot.”

  * * *

  SOME GOOD NEWS. FINALLY.

  The field rep from Sustainable Harvest International had praised the efforts of Susannah’s crew and offered suggestions they were implementing daily. They would have a good harvest of fall vegetables a few days before election time, right on schedule. Omar’s wife and children had arrived. Only one cloud hung over her well-planned, happy environment. She would one day have to face her future. Would it continue to be with Omar? Or could she see herself staying in Mount Union with the cop whose help and companionship she’d come to rely on? Why did Boone Braddock have to turn out to be such a noble, admirable man? Dependable, honest and every bit as cute as she’d remembered from high school. Her decision would have been much easier if he’d been a jerk who tried to control her instead of a man whose common sense and compassion made her want to take his advice.

  To avoid thinking about the future until she had to, Susannah continued to work on her father’s campaign. She and her volunteers distributed flyers, set up interviews with local media to explain the governor’s position on topics of interest to Georgians and fielded phone calls from voters ten hours a day. The governor himself had returned for a quick two-day visit, had found his empire running efficiently and had left to ensure that other areas of the state were so organized. He never heard one word about his daughter’s “other” job, so he left a satisfied man.

  And Boone ended up being Susannah’s most valued asset. While most of their forty acres stretched in beautifully maintained rows of carrots, cabbage, lettuce and, a state favorite, Vidalia onions, Boone, following Susannah’s instructions, installed buffer strips between crops. He’d found a use for all that manure he’d previously mucked from stalls and heaped outside the barn until burn day. Now composted manure, carefully laid out alongside money crops, prevented soil runoff and trapped nutrients deep down where the roots needed them most.

  And so, as events on the farm moved along at a satisfying pace, Susannah knew her day of decision was coming closer. Would she go with Omar as she always had in the past? Or might she stay, here in the hometown she’d left so many years ago, the place she’d never really felt she’d belonged?

  Since she’d been back she’d come to view her childhood home as a place of comfort and opportunity. She could hardly remember those days when she’d been banished and was sad and rebellious. She no longer fought to stand out from the crowd to get attention. Now she was thinking of this small Georgia town as a place to fit in – with the life she left behind and the people she’d never forgotten.

  And the person who’d stayed in her mind through all the years was now a police officer handpicked to protect her. Her father had chosen him, of all people, almost as if Fate were playing a role in her return. Years ago her father had forced her to go. Was one cop able to make her wish that she’d never have to leave again?

  Perhaps she could come to a conclusion about her future today. She wandered over to where Omar was planting a border crop of clover. He stopped working and leaned on his shovel. “Something wrong?”

  “No. I was just thinking about how great this property has been for us.”

  “No doubt about it,” he agreed. “Because the soil had been uncultivated for so long, the nutrients had built up just right. You picked a good location this time, Su.”

  “What do you think about using this farm as a permanent base, even an instructional facility?” Though Susannah had thought about this idea, she had never brought it up to Omar. She wanted him to support the notion. “It would only be our third and our first one on this coast. It could be a great training area for future organic farmers.”
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br />   He appeared to consider her suggestion carefully. His gaze wandered over the green rows of healthy plants coming close to harvest, then to the rolling foothills of the Blue Ridge just beyond. The hills, so high they could almost be called mountains, had provided a natural barrier for their crops, cutting wind and even keeping some predators out. Susannah knew Omar would take all this into consideration.

  “Well,” he said at last. “It’s the perfect size. Forty acres is just large enough to experiment with several different crops. And it’s not so much that a crew of eight or ten couldn’t manage it.” He layered his hands on the shovel handle. “But, there is one obvious problem...”

  “I know. We don’t own it.”

  “We don’t even have a defined lease. Right now we’re going term to term. I’m hoping Boone will let us continue through the fall and into the winter months. Some of these crops, like the kale and spinach, actually do better if they’ve been through a frost.”

  She smiled. “I’m hoping Boone will do more than that. I’m still planning to buy this property.”

  “Yes?”

  “I always have wanted to own it. And now that we’ve clearly established how much of his grandfather’s land we want, I think we can make it work. We want this level part and perhaps use of the barn, which I’m sure I can talk him into. He’ll still be able to keep the house and all that acreage to the tree line.”

  “But the level area is the most desirable,” Omar pointed out. “I don’t know if Boone will agree so easily to sell it.”

  “I’m thinking he might now,” she said, believing that he could be persuaded if what they were feeling for each other turned out to be lasting. “He’s never indicated to me that he has any idea what he would do with it, so maybe after seeing what we’ve done here, he’ll be more inclined to sell.”

  Omar frowned. “That may be, but didn’t you tell me that he owns the property in conjunction with his brother? They are equal owners?”