Sweet Stallion. Deborah Fletcher Mello
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been one of the hardest she’d ever had to make, but Noah had insisted, gently shoving her in the direction of her future.
Within a few short months of her getting settled and comfortable, the farm and her organic foods business, Vitally Vegan, had taken off and thrived. It had become everything Naomi had imagined and more. Now, she saw the opportunity to expand her business to her hometown as a large blessing in disguise.
Cat interrupted her thoughts. “This was good, Naomi. Thank you,” she said, as she swiped a paper napkin across her mouth.
“It was really good!” Noah echoed, sliding his index finger around his parfait cup to lick away the last of the strawberry and yogurt.
“Thank you. I’m glad you both enjoyed it.”
“Are you cooking tomorrow, too?” Noah asked, his tone teasing.
Naomi grinned. “Are you going to be here?”
Her brother nodded. “I am, and if you want me to, I can go with you in the morning before I head into the office. It’s been a while since I was last at your farm and I’d like to see the land you’re interested in.”
“I’d really like that. I could use a second opinion.”
Noah laughed. “I know you wanted to ask.”
Naomi grinned. “I did, but I didn’t want to interrupt anything else you might have going on.”
“Oh, you’re not interrupting anything,” he said as he rose from his seat. He leaned over, kissing the top of her head. “Not a thing,” he added as he winked at her. He reached for his wife’s hand. “We will see you in the morning.”
Catherine giggled as she allowed her husband to pull her to her feet and down the hall toward the master bedroom. She called out over her shoulder, “Good night, Naomi!”
Naomi laughed heartily. “Good night!” she said, and then she heard the bedroom door close and lock behind them.
* * *
With the dishes washed and put away and the kitchen returned to its usual immaculate condition, Naomi retired to the spare bedroom at the other end of the ranch-style home. Thinking about her brother and his wife made her smile. It also made her a bit misty-eyed. Would there ever be a day when she might know a love like theirs? It was only when she was in Utah, visiting with the duo, or talking to her sister, Natalie, and her husband, Tinjin, who lived in Paris, that she even thought about romance and love and a man who could be more than a friend in her life. Any other time she was too busy to give that kind of nonsense any consideration. She blew a soft sigh past her lips as she changed into her nightclothes, donning an old T-shirt and a pair of track shorts. She twisted the length of her hair into a high pineapple atop her head and wrapped the thick tresses with a silk scarf.
Naomi pushed the thoughts away, and the emotion they brought, as she crawled into bed with a file folder of documents about the property that had her interest. She reviewed the plat, making note of the property lines, and then examined the tax records. It would be a challenge, but if she could expand her crop, she would turn a quick profit in no time. She jotted her ideas down on a lined composition pad, doodling where she imagined Swiss chard and an assortment of beans being planted.
The existing farm already sourced sweet Spanish onions, celery, tomatoes and peppers to local restaurants. Along with the added land and produce, she would be able to promote a sustainable food system to consumers through a co-op, making natural, organic produce more affordable to the community. Just envisioning how she hoped to see her dream grow excited her. Figuring out the work that it would take wiped all thoughts of not having a man from her mind.
An hour later Naomi gathered the papers together and returned them neatly to the manila folder. After setting them on the nightstand beside the bed, she checked her cell phone one last time for any missed messages. Finding none, she plugged it into the charger, then dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor.
Her prayers were swift as she whispered the childhood chant their mother had made them recite nightly, and her own appeals for mercy, strength and guidance. With the litany billowing skyward, she crawled back into the queen-size bed and pulled the covers up around her lean frame. Minutes later, she was sound asleep.
The morning sun was shining brightly, indicative of the high temperatures that had been forecast. The sky was mostly clear, a rich shade of blue dotted with an occasional cloud. Everything about the landscape fulfilled Naomi’s wish list, and it took all her fortitude not to jump up and down like an excited five-year-old. The property itself was slightly overgrown, with high grasses interspersed with patches of brown dirt. There was a small abandoned home, condemned by the city, two outbuildings, a tree here and there, and nothing else but open air as far as the eye could see.
This was the only morning that the property was accessible for viewing, and several real estate agents in hiking boots or running shoes were tramping through with perspective buyers. Naomi eyed them all, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as she tried to assess who might be her most serious competition. She ruled out the two women who’d shown up in high heels and designer dresses, both fanning away imaginary bugs from their newly coiffed hairdos. Eavesdropping on their conversation made it clear that neither had any interest in the property; they’d stopped only because they’d seen the open-house signs along the road. It seemed to be the case for many, who took one look at the abandoned house—an amalgamation of rotted wood, rust and mold—and scurried back to their vehicles, anxious to be far from the land Naomi coveted. There were a few men who seemed to be there with purpose, but only one or two looked like they might be interested in giving her a run for her money.
Naomi and Noah stood beneath a tent that had been pitched as a makeshift information center for perspective buyers. A Realtor from Cushman and Wakefield was pulling papers from a file folder that rested on a folding table. Other agents were trying to stir up interest from the few people standing with them, to no avail. The chatter shifted from hushed whispers to lighthearted quips and back. There were only a few serious questions posed, and most had come from Naomi.
Noah took a step closer to her, leaning in to speak without being overheard. “Someone’s got their eye on you!” he said, his singsong tone reminding her of when they’d been much younger and he would tease her about some boy having a crush on her.
Naomi’s eyes darted back and forth. “Who? What?” she whispered back.
Noah laughed. “Behind you. In the corner. Working his Rico Suave looks. Don’t turn around!” he muttered, grabbing her forearm.
They both froze for a second. “Okay, look now,” he told her in a low voice.
She shook her head. “You play too much,” she snapped as she tossed a quick look over her shoulder.
The man was standing with his back only slightly to them, but she could see his gaze reaching out into the distance toward where the property bordered hers. He appeared to be lost in thought, oblivious to all else around him. Naomi gasped, so loud that even her brother noticed.
Noah laughed. “Yep! Thought you’d like that!”
“Shut up, Noah,” Naomi said, her voice an even lower whisper. She took a deep breath, holding the air at the bottom of her lungs. She shifted her gaze back in the man’s direction.
Whoever he was, he was breathtaking. He could have easily graced the cover of any men’s magazine. His complexion was butterscotch with an abundance of rich cream. He sported a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. His auburn hair had deep red undertones and he wore it closely cropped to tame his loose curls. He was dressed in torn jeans, a black cotton T-shirt and paint-stained work boots. On first impression, he looked like one of the many migrant farm workers who made the area their home seasonally, when it came time to pick crops. At the same time, he appeared out of place and slightly uncomfortable.
Naomi was eyeing him intently when