Getting Blocked

Joanne raised a brow, intrigued. Those hazel eyes of his, gleaming like molten gold in the morning sunlight, were doing things to her that she hadn't felt in years.

Boy, was she falling! She'd probably offer her neck willingly if he claimed to be a vampire needing to suck her blood.

He wasn't ruggedly handsome like the local men she was used to—men with calloused hands and broad shoulders accustomed to hauling hay. No, JD was aristocratically handsome, if such a thing existed. He looked like someone who'd fit better in a tailored suit than in the fields, but she couldn't help but imagine him carrying her up the stairs.

Oh, get a grip, Joanne. He's still Jeffrey Daniels. Don't forget that.

It had been five long years since she'd last allowed herself to truly admire a man, and her self-imposed exile wasn't about to end with a Jeffrey. Especially not this Jeffrey.

"Are you acquainted with anyone in Shamrock Logistics?" JD asked, breaking her train of thought.

Joanne smirked, leaning forward with mock surprise. "Why are you asking me? You think I have that kind of pull?"

JD chuckled, placing his coffee cup down. "Well… in small towns, everyone knows everyone, right? And you share the same surname as the owner," His grin was disarmingly boyish, and his lips caught the sunlight in a way that made Joanne almost forget her resolution to stay immune.

Almost.

"I do know the owner," she admitted, lacing her fingers and resting her chin on them like a cartoon villain. "I might be able to pull a few strings…"

JD slapped the table with mock triumph. "I knew it! You're influential." With a smile so earnest it was almost endearing, he pressed his palms together. "Help me out here, please."

Joanne leaned back, arching a brow. "And what's in it for me, Mr. Daniels?"

Although she didn't know much about him—where he came from, or why he'd ended up here—there was an ease to their connection that surprised her. He was undoubtedly trying to charm her, but she decided to play along.

"I'll do anything!" JD said, flashing a wink. "I'll even warm your bed if you'd like."

Joanne tilted her head, a chuckle slipping past her lips. "Why-oh-why would I need a bedwarmer in the middle of summer?"

JD froze, then buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "I… don't know why I said that," he admitted, his voice muffled by his palms.

She laughed along, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. I'll help you—if you shave."

JD groaned. "But I want to grow a beard."

"Your choice," she said with a shrug, turning her attention back to clearing the table.

He lingered for a moment before heading upstairs. When he returned, she glanced up from her laptop to see him clean-shaven and dressed in a crisp shirt and trousers.

"Perfect!" she said, giving him a thumbs-up.

"I gave up a lot for this," he muttered, rubbing his smooth chin as if mourning his lost beard. He don't know why she and his grandfather had the same taste. He wanted to grow a beard.

"Just do well in the interview," Joanne replied with a grin.

Instead of leaving, JD wandered over to where she was reviewing footage from the property's security cameras.

"That horse…" he said, pointing to the screen. "You named him Jeffrey?"

"After Jeffrey Dahmer," she said with a mischievous grin.

JD blinked, his expression a mix of amusement and unease. "That's… dark."

"He deserves it," she replied, chuckling as the horse on the screen kicked up a fuss.

"How many sheep do you have?" JD asked, changing the subject.

"About 300," Joanne replied, her voice tinged with pride.

"And all this land?" He gestured toward the screen, which displayed the sprawling property.

"Fifty acres," she said without looking up. "My great-great-grandfather started with just five acres after working as an indentured servant. Over the generations, we built it up. My grandfather had thirty acres, and I added twenty more last year."

JD nodded, impressed. "You've done well."

Joanne smiled as JD walked away, his earlier compliment bringing a warmth she couldn't shake. Despite her efforts to brush it off, his countless questions lingered in her mind. And yet, she had a feeling he didn't ask the question he wanted to ask.

Fluffy created his usual havoc along with Jeffrey, and Joanne herded them back to the barn before jumping into her old truck. As country music filled the cab, her rhythm faltered at the sight of a leaning fence post.

"Of course," she huffed, grabbing her toolbox and kneeling in the mud to fix it. The earthy scent and simple task reminded her of her family's hard work.

With the fence restored, she cleaned up and drove toward town, her spirits lifted by friendly faces and the welcoming barista at the café, who had her coffee ready without a word.

"Thanks, Darla," Joanne called, taking a sip before turning the corner toward her office. The sight of the modest yet sturdy building brought a smile to her face. It wasn't much by corporate standards, but it was hers, a testament to years of dedication.

Parking the truck, she decided to slip in through the back door. It wasn't unusual for her to take that route, especially on days like today when she'd been knee-deep in dirt. But as she approached, a young security guard stepped forward, blocking her path.

"This is the staff entrance," he said, his tone curt as he eyed her from head to toe. "You can't go in this way."

Joanne stopped in her tracks, her smile fading into a raised brow. The mud-streaked jeans and boots probably didn't scream "business owner," but the outright judgment in his tone caught her off guard.

She planted her hands on her hips. "And how exactly am I supposed to get in?" she asked, her voice calm but firm.

The guard didn't back down. Instead, he gave a pointed glance at the dirt on her clothes and replied with a smirk, "Maybe... get cleaned up before trying to enter."

For a moment, Joanne stared at him, incredulous. She could feel her blood simmering, but she quickly tamped it down. This wasn't the first time someone underestimated her, and it certainly wouldn't be the last but this was not just about her.

"Interesting," she said with a wry smile as she noted his name on the ID card, crossing her arms. "Let me guess—you're new here."

The guard's expression faltered for just a second before he regained his composure. "Yeah, and? Rules are rules."

Joanne chuckled softly, stepping closer. Her voice turned deep. "Rules? Who made those rules?"