Being Neighborly

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.

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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 h
ave 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 d
ress 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 s
tables 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 al
l 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 al
l 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 a
lmost 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 l
eaning 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.”