I follow him outside, keeping a careful distance as he points out the various attractions: the pumpkin patch, the apple orchard, the maze still being assembled, the area where they’ll set up the hay bale slide, and a petting zoo.

  “We open to the public in two weeks,” he explains. “Weekends only at first, then daily as we get closer to Halloween. You’ll have time to settle in and get some preliminary content on our accounts before the crowds arrive.”

  As we walk, the staff, mostly betas from what I can tell, naturally defer to him. They nod respectfully as we pass and wait for his acknowledgment before returning to their tasks.

  It’s not fear I see in their eyes, though. It’s respect, maybe even admiration. They look at him the way people look at someone they trust completely.

  I’d forgotten what it looked like when someone earned that kind of loyalty.

  “Theo!” Rowan calls suddenly, waving to a man emerging from the barn with an armful of what appear to be string lights.

  The man changes direction, heading toward us with a bright smile.

  Theo has gentler features than Rowan; they match his easy smile. He is still tall but leaner, with honey-brown hair that curls around his ears and warm eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

  He seems kind.

  That should be comforting, but kindness from strangers always makes me wary. I’m not sure why gentleness feels scarier than sternness, maybe because it could all just be an act to gain my trust.

  “You must be Emma!” he says, shifting the lights to one arm so he can extend his hand. “I’m Theo, social media disaster and event coordinator extraordinaire.”

  I shake his hand quickly, noting how warm his palm is against mine. The subtle scent of cinnamon wafts from him—the same scent I’d detected in the house earlier, mingled with Rowan’s. In person, the spice of his cinnamon offers a warm, comforting edge that has me feeling more at ease.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, withdrawing my hand as soon as politeness allows.

  “We’re so glad you’re here,” he continues enthusiastically, seemingly unbothered by my brief handshake. “I’ve been trying to get Rowan to invest in our online presence for ages. Did he tell you our Instagram only has seventeen followers? And I’m pretty sure fourteen of them are my former classmates who felt sorry for me.”

  Rowan makes a sound that might be a suppressed snort. “Theo handles the customer experience side of things,” he explains. “He’s good with people.”

  “Unlike my brother, Mr. Spreadsheet here,” Theo says with obvious affection, nudging Rowan with his elbow. “Don’t let him intimidate you. His bark is much worse than his bite.”

  Something about how he says it makes heat crawl up my neck, and I drop my gaze to the ground. When I look up again, I catch Theo watching me with curious eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly.

  “Well,” he says, his voice softer, “I should get these lights hung before Rowan decides they’re frivolous expenditures.”

  “They are frivolous,” Rowan counters.

  “They’re aesthetic,” Theo corrects. “People pay for ambiance; it lends to the atmosphere.” He winks at me. “I’ll catch up with you later, Emma. I have so many ideas for TikTok.”

  As Theo bounds away, I notice how different the brothers are, despite sharing similar features. Rowan seems to carry a weight on his shoulders, while Theo moves like someone unencumbered. Yet they’re clearly close.

  “This way,” Rowan says, continuing our tour toward a fenced area where I can see animals moving about. “Liam should be—”

  He stops mid-sentence, looking toward a figure at the far end of the paddock. Even from this distance, I can tell he’s another alpha. It’s something about how he holds himself and the deference the animals show him. He’s tall and broad-shouldered like Rowan, but there’s something different in the way he moves. His flannel shirt is a faded red, and his dark hair reaches the tops of his shoulders, falling across his forehead as he bends to check something on a fence post.

  “That’s Liam,” Rowan says. “He manages the livestock and maintenance. You’ll meet him later.”

  The distant figure straightens and turns toward us as if hearing his name. Even from here, I feel the weight of his gaze. He raises a hand in acknowledgment, and Rowan returns the gesture, but Liam makes no move to join us.

  “He’s not much for small talk,” Rowan explains, already turning away. “Prefers the animals to most people.”

  I understand that sentiment completely.

  We continue past a large garden with late-season vegetables and a greenhouse, and finally start toward the row of small cottages near the edge of the property.

  “This one’s yours,” Rowan says, stopping at the second-to-last cottage. It’s small but charming, with a tiny porch and window boxes currently empty of flowers. “Bathroom, kitchenette, bedroom. Basic, but private. Liam is in the last one down, but mostly keeps to himself.”

  He hands me a key—an actual metal key, not a card.

  “Breakfast is at seven in the main house if you want, or you can fend for yourself. You can stock up on whatever you need back in town. We provide one meal a day as part of your compensation. The Wi-Fi password is inside, on the counter. It’s sometimes a little spotty, as you could tell from our Zoom call.”

  I nod, taking the key. Our fingers brush for the briefest moment. Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before I can identify it.

  “Thank you,” I say, clutching the key tighter.

  A space of my own, a door that locks, and a full breakfast every day. After months of motel rooms with flimsy chains and paper-thin walls, months of stretching every penny of my savings for meals, this feels like a luxury.

  “Get settled in,” he says, already backing away. “Rest today. Tomorrow, you can start familiarizing yourself with everything and what needs to be done.”

  I nod again, relief washing through me at the thought of solitude after the tension of meeting new people. “I’ll be ready.”

  He pauses, “Emma,” he says, and something about how he says my name makes me meet his eyes despite my instinct to look away. “You’re safe here.”

  The simple words catch me off guard, and I must swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat. He can’t possibly know what that means to me, how desperately I’ve needed to hear it.

  Or maybe he can… perhaps it’s written all over my face.

  “Thank you,” I manage to say.

  He nods once, then turns and walks away, his stride long and confident.

  Inside the cottage, I close the door and lean against it, exhaling deeply.

  The space is small but clean. Simple rustic furniture—nothing fancy, but very cozy. The air smells faintly of lemon cleaner and pine.

  I return to my car, drag my suitcase, and begin the minimal unpacking. I have just three months to earn enough money for the next step, whatever that might be.

  Three months to blend in and avoid any unnecessary complications or attention.

  2

  Emma

  As I hang my few clothes in the small closet, a strange noise filters through from outside—a sort of insistent bleating that grows steadily louder. I pause, a faded shirt still in my hands, and tilt my head to listen.

  The bleating continues, more determined now.

  Curious, I move to the window and push aside the curtain. The small white goat from earlier is trotting purposefully across the grass toward my cottage. Her little hooves kick up with speed, her eyes fixed on my cottage like she’s on a mission.

  Before I wonder what she wants, she hops onto my tiny porch with an agile leap that belies her stocky body. She turns once in a circle, then butts her head against my door with a solid thunk that makes the frame rattle.

  “What in the world?” I murmur, cautiously opening the door a crack.

  That tiny opening is all she needs. The goat immediately wedges her nose into the gap and pushes, making the door swing wide despite my resistance.

  Jeez. Even the farm animals are more confident than I am!

  “Hey! No, you can’t come in,” I protest, trying to block her with my leg. My shin connects with her fuzzy head, but she’s undeterred, pushing harder against me. The warmth of her body presses against my calf as she bleats indignantly at being denied entry.

  “Maple! Leave the new girl alone!” A gruff voice bellows from across the lawn.

  I look up to see a tall, dark-haired figure striding toward us, Liam, the alpha I’d seen in the paddocks on the way to the cottage.

  Now that he’s closer, I can make out his features more clearly: a firm jaw darkened by several days’ worth of stubble, broad shoulders that strain against his faded red flannel, and eyes that remind me of stormy blue skies. His expression hovers between annoyance and apology, his brows drawn together as he quickens his pace.

  “Sorry,” he calls as he approaches. “She’s a menace—always where she shouldn’t be.”

  The goat, Maple, continues her determined effort to enter my cottage, bleating again, the sound almost indignant, as if my resistance personally offends her.

  Liam grabs her pink collar, tugging her gently but firmly away from the door. “What’s gotten into you?” he mutters to the animal, who responds by trying to yank free of his grip.

  Although he hasn’t looked at me yet, I can’t help but notice how attractive he is. Not in a traditionally handsome sort of way, more like he just rolled out of bed—but somehow manages to look incredibly sexy. He’s easily over six feet, but despite his size, there’s a gentleness in how he handles the goat, his large hands careful as he restrains her and tries to soothe her.

  “She’s usually not like this.”

  I force myself to relax my shoulders, to appear unbothered by his proximity. “It’s okay,” I say, keeping my voice even despite my pulse picking up. “She’s cute.”

  “She’s a troublemaker.” He gives the goat a look that contradicts his words, fond and indulgent.

  Maple bleats again, louder this time, pulling against Liam’s grip with such apparent yearning that a small laugh escapes me. “She seems to have an opinion about me.”

  And that’s when the delicious aroma of fresh smoky bourbon reaches me despite my suppressants, and I jolt, taking a small step back.

  Liam finally looks up, and his eyes meet mine.

  Something shifts in his expression, slightly widening his eyes and parting his lips. His pupils dilate, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Then he takes a small step back, his grip on Maple’s collar loosening just enough.

  Maple seizes her opportunity.

  She shoots forward, evading Liam’s hold and darting between my legs before I close the door. She’s inside my cottage instantly, prancing victoriously toward my open suitcase on the floor.

  “Maple!” Liam growls, ducking through the doorway after her.

  I spin around just in time to see the goat rummaging through my clothes.

  “No, no, no!” I lunge forward, but I’m too late.

  Maple’s head emerges triumphantly, with something dangling from her mouth.

  Something purple.

  Something distinctly phallic.

  Oh. My. Gawwd.

  My big purple dildo.

  The thing I’d hidden at the very bottom of my suitcase, wrapped in a sweater for discretion. Something to remind me I’m still a person with needs despite everything that’s happened.

  Time slows to a horrifying crawl as Maple prances away, my silicone companion bobbing obscenely from her mouth like some demented trophy.

  Liam freezes, his eyes widening. A hot red flush creeps up his neck, disappearing into his stubble. He blinks rapidly, as if trying to make sure what he’s seeing is real.

  “Oh, shiii……” he starts, then clears his throat. “I’ll get her.”

  But Maple has other plans.

  With a bleat that sounds suspiciously like laughter, she darts around Liam, evades my desperate grab, and bolts out the still-open door.

  “Shit!” Liam curses, charging after her.

  I stand paralyzed for exactly two seconds before the full horror of the situation hits me.

  A goat is running loose around my new workplace with my sex toy in its mouth!

  My very large, very purple sex toy.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, then sprint after them.

  Outside, Maple is galloping across the lawn toward the main farmhouse, my dildo bouncing cheerfully with each leap. Liam is in hot pursuit, his long legs eating up the distance between them, but the goat is surprisingly nimble, zigzagging to avoid capture.

  “Maple! Bad goat!” Liam calls. “Come back here!”

  I push myself harder, wheezing. “This can’t be happening,” I mutter between gasps. “This literally cannot be happening on my first day.”

  Maple drops the dildo onto the grass, staring Liam down as he charges her. As soon as he gets close, she picks it back up—now covered in grass and dirt—and darts in the opposite direction.

  Several farmworkers turn to watch the spectacle. Seeing one of their bosses chasing the goat with the new hire not far behind, their expressions shift from curiosity to confusion to amusement when they see what the goat has in her mouth.

  Heat floods my face, burning to the tips of my ears. I can’t keep running, huffing and puffing. I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

  I want to die.

  I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

  I catch my breath and return to my pursuit, my face burning hotter by the second as I stumble across the uneven ground.

  Maple veers sharply toward the farmhouse porch, where I can see Theo arranging decorative gourds. He looks up at the commotion.

  “Catch her!” Liam shouts.

  Theo’s reflexes are good. He moves quickly to intercept the goat, arms outstretched to block her path. But Maple is better. She feints left, then dodges right between his legs, leaving him grabbing at air. Then, with a triumphant bleat, she bounds up the porch steps.

  “What in the—” Theo begins, then stops abruptly as he spots what’s in Maple’s mouth. His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. He lets out a booming laugh in reaction.

  I skid to a halt at the bottom of the steps, mortification rendering me temporarily immobile. Liam takes them two at a time.

  “Give me that, you little demon,” he growls, cornering Maple against the wall.

  The goat looks at him, then me, as if calculating her options. Then, with what I swear is a gleam of mischief in her eyes, she drops my purple companion at Liam’s feet with a wet plop—covered in muck and slobber, with little goat-shaped bite marks up and down its shaft.

  Silence falls.

  Terrible, excruciating silence.

  Liam stares at the dildo, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

  Theo stares at the dildo, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile.

  I stare at the dildo, wishing for spontaneous combustion or perhaps a convenient sinkhole.

  Finally, Liam bends down and—oh gawwd—picks it up.

  His massive hand dwarfs what I’d considered a pretty big dick as he straightens, his nostrils flaring. He wipes the slobber off on his jeans, gently brushing the grass and leaves off.

  Theo clears his throat. “Well,” he says, “that’s one way to make a first impression.”

  “Theo,” Liam warns, his voice a low rumble.

  I force myself to climb the steps, dignity in tatters but determined to salvage what I can of this catastrophe. “I’ll take that,” I say, extending my hand and praying my voice doesn’t crack.

  Liam’s eyes meet mine before carefully placing the toy in my palm.

  “Sorry about Maple,” he says gruffly. “She’s… a tyrant.”

  “And apparently has excellent taste in chew toys,” Theo adds, earning a death glare from Liam.

  Is it possible to die of embarrassment? Because that would solve several of my current problems.

  I clutch my dildo to my chest. “I should… go put this away,” I manage.

  Theo steps forward, still a hint of amusement in his eyes, mercifully drawing attention away from me.

  “I’ll take Maple to her pen. She’s done enough damage for one day.” He grabs the goat’s collar, but not before she bleats at me again, almost apologetically.

  I nod stiffly and turn to flee, but Liam’s voice stops me.

  “Emma.”

  I look back, bracing myself. But his expression is soft. “Don’t worry, by tomorrow, someone will have done something more embarrassing… probably Theo.”

  “Hey!” Theo protests, but he’s grinning, dimples appearing in his cheeks.

  I manage a weak smile and nod before hurrying back to my cottage, purple evidence clutched tightly in my hand. Behind me, I hear Theo’s laughter finally break free, followed by what sounds like a smack and an “ow!” that suggests Liam might have punched his arm.

  Back in my cottage, I shut the door and lean against it, closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths.

  So much for not attracting attention.

  On my first day at Harvest Home Farm, I’ve managed to:

  Have my sex toy stolen by a goat.

  Create a spectacle in front of the entire staff.

  Have said sex toy handled by the very large (very sexy) alpha who lives next door.

  “Great job, Emma,” I mutter. “Really nailing the whole ‘forgettable seasonal employee’ thing.”

  I open my eyes and look down at the slobbery dildo in my hand, covered in goat teeth marks.

  Then I start to laugh, quietly at first, then louder, until tears stream down my face. Because really, what else can I do?

  So much for staying invisible.

  3

  Inbox Notification

  From: MAshcroft@Ashcroftmedia.com

  Subject: I miss you.

  My dearest Emma,

  Did you know today marks five months since you’ve been gone? 150 days of wondering where you are, if you’re safe, if you’re thinking of me too.

 

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