Being Neighborly Read online

  Being Neighborly

  A Novella

  By

  Carey Heywood

  Copyright 2014 by Carey Heywood

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and the punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Sawyer Says is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Being Neighborly

  Beau Hamilton spends his days working the family farm, leaving him no time to worry about finding a girlfriend. He wants to settle down and start a family, but his prospects aren’t looking up. He knows what he wants; a nice country girl, who doesn’t mind living on a farm, a girl nothing like his new neighbor Bethany.

  Bethany screams “city” and it’s only a matter of time before she hightails it out of farmland and back to the land of coffee shops on every street corner. She’s not the type of girl who would be happy, living on a farm for the rest of her life.

  Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t be, Beau finds himself drawn to her in ways even he can’t dismiss as only being neighborly.

  ~Note to the reader~

  Beau, the main character of this book, was

  introduced in my novel Sawyer Says.

  This book is dedicated to all the readers, who each night stay up past their

  bedtimes to take in the words we write.

  Thank you,

  Chapter One

  “Did you hear someone bought the Wilson place?”

  I glance up from my breakfast and into Bess’s pointed stare. What’d I do? “What does that mean for me, Bess?”

  A Cheshire-Cat-like grin spreads across her face. “I wondered if you could run this apple pie I baked over to her.”

  Her?

  I shrug. “Sure. When?”

  She turns her back to me and nonchalantly replies, “How about before suppertime, after you’ve showered and changed?”

  This smells like a setup. I’ve known Bess my entire life. She’s like an unrelated aunt and a second mama. She’s been more prone to meddle now that my dad’s retired.

  I’ve been slowly taking over my parents’ farm since his health deteriorated. My mom and dad even moved out of the main house, moving down to a cabin at the back of the property. My dad’s always been a go getter. Our hope is that tucked away back there, he’ll be forced to take it easy and relax. So far it’s been working.

  Our farm, while owned by my family, is also home to three other families in search of a simpler life. We eat what we grow and barter for the things we need and donate any surplus to the local food bank.

  Bess would like me to settle down and start a family of my own. I have nothing against women. I’ve just been so busy that none of the single women I know have held my attention.

  I had a serious girlfriend a few years back, but farm life wasn’t what she was looking for. From what I hear, she’s married and has a kid living in the city. It’ll take a certain kind of girl to want this type of life. I love the families who call this farm home, even when it feels like I can’t get a moment of peace to myself.

  With the weather turning warmer, I’m moving from the main house to another cabin on the property. It’s within walking distance of the main house but gives me peace and quiet during the spring and summer months.

  I live in the main house during the winter just because it costs less for us to heat one place. The cabin my parents have moved to has no electricity, but is small enough that the wood stove is all they need for the winter.

  “Want to tell me more about this new neighbor, Bess?”

  Her cheeks redden and it’s clear she knows I’m on to her. “Her name is Bethany, and Mrs. Brendal said she was a cute little thing, so I didn’t think there’d be anything wrong with you going over and being neighborly.”

  “You know I don’t like setups, Bess,” I warn.

  “It’s not a setup. I’ve never even spoken two words to the girl. I just figured, since it sounded like she was around your age, it made more sense for you to go over rather than me.”

  I cock a brow at her. “And why’s that?”

  “You need more friends your age, Beau.”

  I groan, but it in no way stops her.

  “You work your tail off on this farm. When was the last time you went out or did something just for yourself?” I start to speak but she lifts her hand cutting me off. “You are just like your father, and if I have to banish you from the farm so you’ll relax, I will.”

  My shoulders sag. I push back from the table and cross the room to pull her into a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Message received, loud and clear.”

  “We all love you, Beau. We just want what’s best for you.”

  Nodding, I swipe a muffin and head for the door before talk can get any deeper than it already has. I pass Ben, one of the kids living on the farm. He’s maybe ten and likes to think he’s grown.

  “Women,” he mutters as I walk past.

  Snorting, I nod. “Tell me about it.”

  My morning passes quickly, the grumble in my gut letting me know it’s time to head inside for lunch. After spending most of my morning caring for the few animals we have on the farm, a quick whiff confirms I now smell like them. I head straight for the shower. Bess will want me to deliver that pie after lunch, and if I’m already clean by the time I see her again, she’ll have no reason to fuss at me.

  In no mood to impress our new neighbor, I pull on an old t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. The insoles of my work boots are wearing thin, so I pull on an old pair of sneakers before I head back downstairs. Once this pie is delivered, I’ll spend the rest of my day moving back into my cabin.

  Bess frowns when she sees what I’m wearing but silently passes the pie. No words are needed to tell me she had hoped I’d be wearing a dress shirt and slacks. She’s lucky I’m going willingly seeing as how I’m the lamb being led to slaughter.

  My precious cargo, the pie, rides on the passenger side footwell. I can’t risk the hell that will befall me should it slide off the seat.

  Mrs. Wilson was our closest neighbor until she passed away. It’s still a five-minute drive from our farm to hers. Mrs. Wilson didn’t have as much acreage as us, but did have a pretty little pasture and stable setup to board horses. Pulling up to her house, I glance around, looking to see if our new neighbor is planning the same thing.

  The stables don’t appear to be recently used. It’s rained the last three days, and unless she’s using the back entrance, there would be more signs of traffic. I walk around my truck to retrieve the pie from the passenger side. There’s only one other car parked by the house, a small coupe with no trailer hitch. At this point, I’m guessing no on the horse boarding.

  I amble up the front steps and rap my knuckles on the edge of the screen door. A crash, followed quickly by a yelp, has me pulling open the screen door and opening the front door.

  “Hello? My name is Beau. I live on the next farm over. Are you all right?”

  A muffled groan coming from the back of the house has me dashing toward the kitchen, pie still in my hand. The sight I come upon catches me so off guard
I almost drop it.

  There’re two bare legs sporting some hot pink flip-flops peeking out from underneath a toppled over two-legged table. How in the world? I skip asking questions and jump into action. Quickly setting the pie on the counter next to me, I reach forward to lift the table off my new neighbor.

  Judging from the tools scattered on the floor around her, she was putting the legs on. I’m just not sure how. I twist the table top onto its side and rest it against the wall before reaching my hand out to help her up.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  Curly auburn locks are pushed back to reveal hazel eyes as she reaches her other hand to meet mine. “Uh huh.”

  I lift her slowly. “Were you hurt?”

  She shakes her head, her curls bouncing. “Just startled.”

  It takes a moment before I realize her hand is still in mine. She’s tall for a girl, coming almost up to my nose in her flip-flops. In some sexy heels, I wouldn’t even have to dip my head to kiss those plump lips. It’s hard not to stare at her. Most of the tall girls I grew up around were built like men. Bethany was all woman. Hell, I’d even sign up for a geometry class dedicated to studying her curves.

  She slowly pulls her hand from mine and starts to take a step back, but her foot lands on a screwdriver and she loses her balance. I catch her, pulling her tightly to my chest before she pitches backwards. Her hands grip my shoulders as she looks up at me, wide-eyed.

  Gulping, she glances behind her before moving to step away from me again. This time, I don’t let her go right away.

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  She wets her lips, and stills in my arms. “I’m Bethany.”

  Her chest rises and falls rapidly; movement I can't ignore given her warm body is pressed to mine.

  "I'm such a klutz," she groans.

  "Maybe you should sit. If you want, I can finish putting your table together."

  She nods, and then gasps as I lift her and set her gently on the counter next to the pie.

  "Thought it'd be safer for you up there." I wink.

  Turning quickly so my back is to her, I'm not sure what compelled me to wink at her. I don't wink at people. Focusing on things I understand, like furniture assembly, seems safer.

  I crouch in front of the table, still leaned against the wall, and start to attach the third leg.

  After a few moments of silence, I break it by asking, "How did the table fall on you?"

  She chuckles behind me. "I know I should have flipped the table on to its back and put all the legs on that way, but I thought I was being clever by setting it up on a couple chairs so I wouldn't have to flip it back over when I was done. It didn't work out as well as I thought it would."

  Turning back to her, I ask, "What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?"

  She shrugs, one flip-flop precariously dangling from her foot. "Wiggled out from under it somehow.” Her eyes widen. “I haven’t even thanked you. You must think I am the rudest person ever.”

  Holding up my hand in an attempt to stop her, I shake my head. “It’s fine really.”

  She continues, “And now you’re putting together my table and I’m just sitting here.”

  After leaning the table back up against the wall, I cross the small kitchen and stand in front of her, taking her wringing hands into mine. “Bethany, it’s no big deal. I’m happy to help. It’s what neighbors do.”

  Her shoulders sag. “Not where I’m from.”

  I tilt my head and smile. “Aren’t you glad you moved here then? So, where’re you from?”

  Her eyes drop to our still joined hands, a blush racing over her pale cheeks. “Baltimore, Maryland.”

  “A city girl. What brought you out here?”

  “One day, it hit me that after my parents moved, I had nothing keeping me in Baltimore. I needed a change. I’m my own boss so I can work anywhere. I stumbled across this listing and could picture myself better here than where I was living. My parents think I’m crazy for moving out to what they would call the ‘middle of nowhere’, but I’m looking forward to unplugging. I wanted to live somewhere peaceful.”

  I reach up to tuck a curl behind her ear. “Can’t argue wanting an uncomplicated life. I’ve had to do a little bit a traveling for the farm. I think I’m allergic to city life.”

  She laughs, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she looks up at me, and it’s like someone knocked the wind out of me. Needing some distance, I release her hands and abruptly take a step back.

  “I’ll just finish up,” I mumble, focusing on the table and not my new neighbor.

  The slap of her flip-flops hitting the floor behind me has me turning to look back at her.

  “Would you like a drink? I feel awful just sitting here watching you work.”

  Can’t argue that logic. Not knowing what she has on hand since she just moved in, I ask for a glass of water.

  When she hands me a bottle, I frown. “Tap water is fine for me.”

  Her brows come together. “Is it safe to drink?”

  “Course it is.”

  She doesn’t look convinced, but reaches to take the bottle back from me. I’m almost done putting the final leg on when she brings me a mug of cold tap water.

  I lift the mug, turning it to read it. “Smarty Pants?”

  She blushes. “It was a gift. I haven’t unpacked all my other kitchen stuff yet and it was already out.”

  “I like it.” I hold her eyes as I lift its rim to my lips.

  What I don’t say is I like smart girls too, even the clumsy ones.

  After draining the mug, I hand it back to her. Out of habit, and seeing how she was assembling it in the first place, I give the two legs she already attached a quick once over. With a couple of extra turns of the screwdriver, I am confident they aren’t going anywhere.

  “Ready to flip her?” I ask.

  “Um, sure.” She is still holding the mug, almost cradling it. She turns and sets it on the countertop, and then comes to stand opposite me. Mirroring my movements, we both bend, and then lift the table before setting it upright on its legs.

  “Nice looking table,” I remark, rubbing my hand across the worn blonde wood.

  “Thanks. I’ve had it forever. It was my first adult purchase.”

  “No cigarettes or nudey magazines for you?” I tease.

  She laughs again. This time, any self-preservation instinct that moved me to flee last time vanishes. Just like a bloom turns toward the sun, I need to be closer to her. I’ve forgotten the table between us, until I bump into it, breaking the spell her laughter cast on me.

  “I should go.” I start to back away.

  She arches a brow. “And make me eat this pie all by myself? That doesn’t seem very neighborly.”

  My eyes find Bess’s apple pie and I hesitate.

  Then she goes in for the kill. “I have vanilla ice cream.”

  Dammit. That’s just downright irresistible.

  “You’ve found my weakness,” I smile.

  As she digs through a box for a couple plates, I pull the chairs over and place them around her table.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer.

  Shaking her head, Bethany motions for me to sit. She joins me not long after with a plate for each of us.

  Waiting for her reaction to Bess’s pie, I hold off eating any of mine and just watch her. She loads her fork up with a good amount of pie and pulls it through her ice cream for good measure. She hasn’t noticed my attention is solely on her. Her full lips circle then close around her fork. Riveted, I watch her eyes widen as she pulls the fork from her mouth.

  She chews, covers her mouth as she appears to start to say something; she then shakes her head and moans. Her incredulous eyes train themselves onto mine and she slowly chews. After one final gulp her mouth opens.

  “Oh, my God. Seriously. Oh, my God.”

  I nod, finally able to take my own bite. “I know.”

  Unfazed, she continues, “Ser
iously, this is the best apple pie I have ever had.”

  My mouth is full so I nod again and raise my brows. This is not the kind of pie that allows for conversation while it’s being eaten. All thought, focus and attention must be solely on the heaven on earth that is this pie. The addition of slow churned vanilla ice cream makes heaven taste downright sinful. Wait, ice cream?

  I gulp down my current bite. “So you’ve already been to the grocery store?”

  She shakes her head. “No, Bess and I have been talking on the phone for a couple weeks now. She knew I was getting in late last night and offered to stock the fridge for me.”

  Smirking to myself, I can’t help but notice how easy it would have been for Bess to leave this pie for Bethany herself, last night.

  “She even stopped by this morning to check on me.”

  Must have been while I was working.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Bethany continues.

  Shaking my head, I look forward to finding out exactly what Bess is up to.

  After we’ve both finished, I clear the plates and set them in the sink.

  “I should really be taking off now.” I take a step toward the door and she follows me.

  “I’ve totally kept you. I’m so sorry. Of course you have things to do.”

  I shrug. “It’s no problem, really. I’m happy I was able to help and thank you kindly for the piece of pie.”

  After opening the front door, I half step out, letting the screen door lean against my back and reach out to shake her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Bethany. If there is anything you need, you just give us a shout.”

  Her small hand is warm in mine. “Thank you, Beau. It’s nice to know I have great neighbors.”

  When I release her hand, Bethany follows me out on to her front porch, leaning against the railing as I walk down to my truck. I give her a quick wave, which she returns before I back out her drive.

  Chapter Two

  “Can I have a word?” I interrupt the kitchen chatter, my eyes on Bess.