Hank watched as Arissa fumbled. He felt like a fucking dick. If she only knew what he really wanted to do, she’d be fumbling for an entirely different reason. So right before the door shut, he called, “Arissa?”
Her shoulders slumped, her hand still on the door. She didn’t look back when she said, “Yeah.”
“Wanna go over to Moe’s, grab a bite? I can introduce you to a few people,” Hank offered.
She did look back then. He watched her face take on a whole other look, and felt that look in his gut.
Sheriff Hank Weathers was a nice man. He didn’t want her company, but he was offering anyway. She understood even more his appeal. He wasn’t just sexy; he was also a gentleman. She let him off the hook. “Thank you, Sheriff, but I’m really not hungry and I do have a lot of unpacking to do.” She smiled, as she pushed the door open. “I’ll catch ya later.”
Josephine watched the interaction between Hank and Arissa with a bright smile on her face. She chimed in, “If you need anything, Sugar, you call Hank!”
She was sure Hank got more calls than he wanted from damsels in distress. She’d spare him from another. “Sure thing,” she lied, then fled.
Hank whipped his head to glare at Jo, before looking back at where Arissa had disappeared. “Thanks, for the brownies,” he called after her and moved his squinting eyes to Jo. “What the fuck was that all about?”
Jo looked innocent when she replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit,” Hank grumbled, snatched the plate of brownies and started for the door. “Cause of that shit you pulled, you don’t get any fucking brownies,” he told her as he held the plate in the air. He didn’t wait for Jo to respond, but as the door was closing behind him, he heard a few choice words thrown his way. Hank placed the brownies in the passenger seat of his SUV, and after he shut the door, his eyes roamed the street. He didn’t see Arissa anywhere; she must have slipped into a store. Hank started down the street to begin his night. Dinner at Moe’s, tossing a few beers back while talking, and maybe throwing a few darts. He did the same routine every night, just some nights he changed up where he ate. But there was one thing that remained the same, he always ended his night with a hot shower and relieving himself. Only this time, he had a new woman to star in his fantasy.
* * *
Arissa looked across the wide-open space. If not for the pungent smell of chicken shit, it would be an idyllic spot.
“They roam free. Never caged my chickens and never will,” Ed Porter said proudly as he puffed up his chest. “Best free range, organic chicken eggs in the county.”
“That’s what I heard.” She’d been to Maisy’s Market for groceries and the owner herself was raving about Ed’s eggs. The drive out to the farm was beautiful; sitting on the edge of town, all that open space and livestock…it was picture perfect. She’d past a house on the way, it stuck out because it was the only house she’d seen outside of town. Surrounded by rolling hills of green, the dark blue arts and craft style house with creamy white trim was nestled right in the middle. She’d live on the front porch. Rocking in one of the chairs, looking out into the distance enjoying nothing but nature.
“Have you ever collected eggs?” Ed asked, as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Outside of egg hunts on Easter, no.”
“The chickens roam free, but they lay their eggs in the hen house,” Ed said, and gestured to a large blue building in the middle of the chicken pasture. “The chickens usually mind their own business, but sometimes they can get testy. If you’re calm, they will be calm too.”
“Okay,” Arissa replied, appreciating the warning, but they were chickens, cute, adorable chickens.
Stepping into the hen house, she expected it to smell, but the strongest odor came from the hay that filled the cubbies that lined the walls of the structure. Several were occupied with hens. Arissa felt a moment of guilt, taking their eggs but she did love eggs…fried, omelets, salad, even just boiled with a little salt and pepper. And thinking about that in here felt wrong.
Ed handed her a cardboard container. “Just pick the ones you like,” he said, smiling as he grabbed his own container and started toward one of the cubbies. Arissa didn’t move as quickly because the chickens were looking at them, more like staring, and why not. Ed and she were stealing their eggs. Her attention then moved to the eggs, they weren’t all the same size or color, some the shells looked almost white, and some were very dark brown. Some had speckles and some were blemish free.
“Leave them on the counter in a bowl. With eggs this fresh, you don’t need to refrigerate them,”
