Page 8 of This Broken Heart

It feels like the floor is bottoming out. “You aren’t going to look after the kids anymore?”

“Josh…” She hesitates. “I just can’t keep up. Maven deserves more. She needs someone who can get down on the floor with her. My body just won’t let me.”

I sit back, realizing I have three pairs of concerned eyes on me. I’ve always hated pity.

And after Ana’s death, I’ve had more than my share of it.

It makes me feel weak. And maybe I am, because right now, I’m one thread away from a full-blown panic attack.

5.

Erin

My little sedan bumps down the snow-packed drive. I park next to the big, white house and scan the yard.

There’s three industrial-sized sheds. Or maybe they’re barns? And a big, two-story house. It looks old. And romantic. Like a stately 19th-century mansion.

A mansion that faces a poop-filled feed lot. I haven’t even opened my car door and already the smell is curling up my nostrils.

The feed lot is literally on the other side of the lane. Hundreds of cows line up, snow matted to their backs, eating from a trough along the fence.

I had no idea people lived this close to their livestock. Glancing back at the sheds, I see a few pickups and two men standing next to each other.

Everyone is staring at me.

The guys are staring at me. Even the cows are staring at me.

Feeling a familiar burn in my cheeks, I push the car door open and stumble out.

I didn’t dress for this madness. I’m wearing a velvet pinafore dress and a blouse with little birds on it. My shoes are matching velvet pumps. The second my foot hits the ground, dingy snow submerges my shoe.

I pick my way across the lot acting like this is a completely normal event for me. The men watch me with open curiosity.

Not friendliness. Not disinterest, either.

Just open, vaguely hostile, curiosity.

The experience is compounded by the fact that they are both drop-dead gorgeous. They’re clearly father and son—tall, well over six feet, and broad-shouldered. Like they played football in high school. In fact, it feels a little like I’ve been transported back to my teen years. The swing choir nerd pathetically picking her way over to the homecoming king.

I stop in front of him, and he finally remembers to offer me a smile.

I almost shrink back. That million-dollar grin is more than I can handle.

I liked it better when he was looking surly. He’s got bottomless brown eyes and expressive dark eyebrows. I feel an absurd impulse to run my fingers along his scruff-covered jaw.

He extends a hand. “You must be Erin Hanley. The agency said you’d be coming today.”

I marvel at the way his hand swallows mine up. It’s warm and callused. “And you’re Josh?”

“Yep.” He nods, tipping his head towards the older man. “This is my dad, Keith.”

Keith offers his hand but doesn’t bother to smile.

An awkward pause descends on us, and I grapple for something to say. “I didn’t expect all the cows.”

“Cattle.” Josh and Keith automatically say. Correcting me.

“Cattle.” I reply with a tight smile.