She's Far From Hollywood. Jo McNally

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      Cole will take you out to Nell’s place in his truck. He lives out that way...

      Cole Caldwell was her neighbor.

      Before Bree’s brain could fully absorb what that meant, Maggie bounded down the driveway and across the road. She’d never been a fan of dogs, but she knelt on one knee to greet the happy girl. She was a pretty thing with those expressive brown eyes.

      “A little early for drinking, isn’t it?” Bree’s head snapped up. Cole was standing in the middle of her yard. He’d stopped there as if that was as far as he dared go, which made her smile just a little as she rose to her feet.

      “That’s rich coming from the guy who was drinking at a bar in the middle of the day yesterday.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m a man.” He made a point to look her up and down, taking in her bare feet, jeans and T-shirt. Women in the South tend to act more like ladies.”

      “Sorry to offend your Southern sensibilities, but I’m afraid I left my hoop skirt at home.”

      His eyebrow arched and she saw a touch of admiration there. The two of them had scathing sarcasm down to an art. She bit back a smile of triumph and turned to the door to leave him standing there, but Maggie’s soft whine stopped her. She looked down and couldn’t resist scratching the dog’s ears one more time.

      “Maggie hasn’t seen anyone at the cottage in a while, and she seems to like you for some reason.” His expression made it clear he couldn’t understand the dog’s logic.

      “You never mentioned you were going to be my neighbor.” The words tumbled out without warning, and she knew they sounded like an accusation.

      His stoic expression never changed, even as he shrugged a shoulder in dismissal.

      “Didn’t see a need to. Doesn’t change anything. You’re Nell’s guest, not mine.”

      He gave a sharp, short whistle and Maggie immediately trotted back to his side, leaning against his leg and closing her eyes as his fingers moved against the top of her head. Some of the ever-present tension seemed to leave his body when he touched the dog. Bree wondered what made him so uptight all the time. Then she shook off the thought. She shouldn’t care about a guy who had been nothing but rude to her. She lifted her chin.

      “Yes, well, I think we can all agree that the chances of me being your guest are slim to none. What were you doing walking in the field?”

      “My job.”

      “Which is...?”

      He heaved a heavy sigh and his eyes met hers with the force of a sledgehammer. She almost took a step back, just from the intensity of his angry stare.

      “Seriously? I’m raising a crop. Checking the soil, inspecting the plants for insects and disease. Just another day in the life of a farmer, Hollywood.”

      She didn’t miss the not-so-subtle jab of that ridiculous nickname. He’d made it clear yesterday he thought she was some prima donna who’d faint dead away at the thought of a little hard labor.

      “I was just trying to show an interest, Plowboy.” Two could play the nickname game.

      He looked as if he was going to reply, but stopped. He started to turn away then turned back toward her with a fierce expression on his face.

      “I saw you with Nell, Tammy and Emily this afternoon, laughing it up on the porch like you belonged there.” Her back stiffened at his insinuation that she didn’t belong. “Everyone around here loves Miss Nell, and you’d do well to remember that. I don’t want you bringing any trouble to her or to my family.”

      Bree bristled. “Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

      “I don’t know what to think or what your real motivation is. For all I know, cameras are going to come swooping in here at any minute.” He took a step closer, his eyes icy gray and threatening. “You don’t really strike me as the victim type, so maybe you’re just pulling some kind of publicity stunt. I don’t know, and I don’t care, as long as you don’t bring embarrassment to the people I care about.”

      He thought she was making up the story about being stalked? That she was here as some kind of joke? This man really was a jackass of major proportions.

      “Do you have a computer, or is that too twenty-first century for you?”

      “I have a computer. And no, you can’t borrow it.”

      “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Her hand rested on the knob of the front door and she looked over her shoulder at him. “If you really think my story is some kind of joke, type in the name Nikki Fitzgerald and see what you find.”

      “I have better things to do with my time than to look up Hollywood gossip.”

      His cool dismissal made her want to stomp her feet in frustration.

      “Fine.” She spat the word at him. “You did your good deed and delivered me to Nell’s. Why don’t you just go home and leave me alone?”

      He stared at her hard for a long, silent moment. Then he gave another careless shrug.

      “No problem, Hollywood. I’m gone.”

      He turned away without another word. Maggie looked over her shoulder at Bree and gave a quick wag of her tail, then trotted away at Cole’s side. Bree watched them walk back to the big white house. A porch wrapped around all four sides. Did he live there alone? I wasn’t like she knew anything about the man. She went into the cottage to find more wine. Maybe he was married to some unfortunate woman and had a houseful of grumpy, gray-eyed children. Instead of making her feel better, the thought soured her mood even more.

CHAPTER FOUR

      BREE SAT DOWN on the grass in front of Nell’s house Friday afternoon with a loud sigh that morphed into an even louder groan. Every muscle cried out for mercy. Scratches covered her arms and legs, exposed by her denim cutoffs, which had been created when Nell took a pair of scissors to Bree’s three-hundred-dollar designer jeans. Her sweat-soaked lavender tank top was borrowed from Tammy. Her white running shoes were brown with dirt. Her skin was taking on a surprising golden hue already, despite the sunscreen she slathered on every morning and again at lunchtime. Her acrylic nails were cracked and broken. Three were missing entirely, exposing her real fingernails to the air for the first time in years. Rivers of sweat drifted aimlessly down her back in the stifling humidity.

      She’d already learned a lot in just a few days working on Nell’s farm. The work had to be done, regardless of sweltering sun or pouring rain or protesting muscles. Animals needed fresh bedding every day. Eggs had to be gathered. The piglets liked to have cool mud to squirm around in. Even though they were out to pasture, cattle needed to be fed and checked routinely. Vegetables СКАЧАТЬ