Chapter 4 Chores & Charm

The next morning, I found a note on the front porch.

"I owe you a broom. - L."

I stared at it for a full thirty seconds before I let myself laugh. Just a little.

The broom in question had snapped clean in two when Liam tried to balance it across a haystack yesterday. He'd looked like a toddler trying to build a castle with wet noodles. I hadn't realized until now just how much fun I'd had watching him struggle.

Still, I shook my head and shoved the note in my back pocket. I had work to do.

By midday, the sun had turned the barn into a slow cooker, and I was sweating through my shirt as I lugged feed sacks to the storage shed. I was halfway through dragging the third one when a familiar voice spoke behind me.

"Let me guess. No broom means I'm on lifting duty?"

I turned and found Liam leaning against the gate, sleeves rolled again, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He had that infuriating grin, the one that made it impossible to tell if he was serious or just trying to push my buttons.

"You came back," I said, not bothering to hide the suspicion in my voice.

"I promised you a broom, didn't I?" he said, holding up a brand-new one like it was a peace offering. "Heavy-duty. Farm tested. Chicken approved."

Despite myself, I smiled. "That remains to be seen."

He walked toward me and took the sack from my hands without asking. I didn't argue, my arms were already sore, and I had four more bags waiting.

"Does helping out mean you get more material for your book?" I asked, watching him struggle with the weight as he followed me.

"Maybe," he said, breathless. "Or maybe I just wanted to see you again."

I pretended not to hear that.

Inside the shed, the cool air was a welcome relief. Liam dropped the sack with a grunt and leaned against the wall, panting dramatically.

"Do you ever take a break?" he asked.

"This is my break," I said, wiping sweat from my brow. "No animals yelling at me in here."

He laughed. "You ever think of leaving?"

"Leaving the farm?"

He nodded.

"All the time," I admitted. "But I never do."

"Why?"

"Because this place raised me. And it's falling apart. And if I don't save it, no one will."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I admire that," he said softly.

I looked at him. Really looked. His shirt was stained with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead, and there was dirt on his cheek. But something about him still looked... grounded. Like he didn't mind getting messy.

"You don't seem like someone who's used to hard labor," I said.

He grinned. "Is that your polite way of calling me soft?"

"Soft? No." I smirked. "Delicate? Maybe."

He held a hand to his chest like I'd wounded him. "I've been insulted by many women, but that one stings."

"You'll live."

We both laughed, and it filled the shed with something warm. Easy. I hadn't felt that in a while.

We fell into rhythm after that stacking feed, checking on the hens, fixing a broken hinge on the coop door. He wasn't great at anything, but he didn't complain. And for every chore he messed up, he offered at least one clever remark that made me laugh under my breath.

By the time we reached the porch for a water break, I was tired but not in the bad way. It was the kind of tired that came from working with someone instead of alone. From talking instead of thinking.

We sat side by side on the porch steps, sipping water and watching the chickens peck around the yard like they owned it.

"You're not like most people I know," Liam said after a while.

"Is that a compliment or an observation?"

"Both."

I didn't respond. I wasn't sure how.

After a pause, he asked, "Did you grow up wanting to be a farmer?"

"Not exactly," I said, twisting the bottle cap in my hand. "I wanted to be a vet. Went off to college for a year. Then Dad had his first stroke and... well. The farm needed me more."

"Do you regret it?"

"Sometimes," I said honestly. "But then I remember I'm doing something that matters. Even if it's not what I planned."

He nodded slowly. "Plans change."

"Did yours?"

His jaw tightened, just for a second. "Yeah," he said. "A lot."

And just like that, the warmth between us cooled. The shadow came back. The one that hovered just behind his smile. I wanted to ask more, but I knew better. Some questions don't get answered until they're ready.

"I should get back to it," I said, standing.

He stood too. "Want help tomorrow?"

"You really want to keep embarrassing yourself?"

"I'm persistent," he said with a shrug. "And stubborn."

"I've noticed."

He grinned. "See you at dawn?"

I rolled my eyes. "We'll see."

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The fan clicked above me, slow and steady, and the silence of the house was deafening.

I should've been thinking about the farm. About the debt. About how Dad hadn't left his room all day.

Instead, I was thinking about Liam. His hands covered in dirt. The way he looked at me when I talked about the things I'd given up. Like he understood.

But I still didn't know who he really was.

And I hated how much I wanted to find out.