The Murderer

JD's lips almost parted, his breath hitching as he anticipated the softness of her lips brushing against his. His mind spun, racing between possibilities—would she kiss him? Or maybe ask him to kiss her?

The warmth of her breath caressed his cheek, so close it sent shivers down his spine. Instinctively, his eyes closed, his thoughts blurring into a haze. For a fleeting moment, the world disappeared; only her intoxicating scent and her alluring proximity lingered in his mind.

And then, as suddenly as it came, her warmth was gone. His eyes flew open, just in time to see her retreating, a soft dragging sound accompanying her movements. "Excuse me," she murmured, her voice a whisper that carried all the gentleness of a summer breeze.

Her absence felt like an abrupt void, her scent lingering faintly but slipping further away with every nanosecond. JD blinked, his gaze following her as she picked up her phone, unlocking it with a swipe.

She wasn't going to kiss him. She wasn't even thinking about it. She was just… getting her phone.

Letting out a deep breath, he realized his chest had tightened, his pulse quickening for no reason other than his own foolish imagination. The realization left him feeling both disappointed and slightly foolish. All of a sudden, he wasn't quite as hungry anymore.

"Here," Joanne said, turning her phone toward him with a grin. "This is our page. Follow it." Her smile bloomed, bright and genuine. "You do have social media, don't you?"

JD blinked, caught off guard by the mundane request. "This…" He paused, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "This is all you want in return?"

Joanne nodded, the jesting glint in her eyes unmistakable. "Unless, of course, you'd rather clean Jeffrey's stall," she teased, her grin widening.

"Nope!" JD shook his head vigorously, his hands held up as if surrendering to her terms. "I'll follow the page—Farm Chronicles, huh? Nice name," he added, glancing at her appreciatively.

Joanne shrugged modestly. "It fits what the page is about."

"Whoa!" JD exclaimed as he scrolled through the page, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. "You're a star, Ms. Smith! You've got over 100,000 followers!"

Joanne waved a dismissive hand, clearly unimpressed by the numbers. "It's all Jason's work," she replied. "I'm not the star—the farm is. I just tell him what to post. I'm barely in any of the videos, unless something big is happening."

JD's curiosity deepened as he scrolled through the posts. Most were about farm life—tips for maintaining the land, videos featuring her dogs, and even snippets about Jeffrey. He couldn't help but notice the dogs had amassed their own fanbase, "Mr. Darcy" had cult followers, and even Jeffrey had admirers who called him "adorable" in the comments.

He quickly noticed a pattern: posts featuring her, whether she was sharing tips on lamb care or showcasing her guardian dogs, received the most attention. In her denim dungarees, muddy boots, and messy curly red hair peeking from under a hat, her charming videos racked up hundreds of thousands, even millions, of views.

But the comment sections made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Foxie." "Scarlet Jo."

Some comments celebrated her strength, calling her empowering. Others, from men, were far less respectful. Some were downright vulgar, leering at her curves in ways that made JD's blood boil. Sure, he'd noticed her figure—what man wouldn't? She was blessed with the right amount of curves.

He'd enjoy taking a peek or two but that didn't give anyone else the right to be so crude about it.

Something burned in his chest, a strange, unfamiliar heat that felt almost like… jealousy. He cleared his throat, setting the phone down and focusing on his breakfast. The food was fantastic, and no way was he letting his appetite lose out entirely—not when she had clearly gone out of her way to make this meal.

After finishing, JD excused himself, heading upstairs to shower before leaving for work. He needed to clear his head and shake off the inexplicable irritation that clung to him like a shadow; also the horse spit.

On his way out, Joanne stopped him at the door. "Here," she said, handing him a neatly packed lunch. Her expression was casual, but her gesture carried a warmth that tugged at his heart.

JD left the house with a lingering warmth in his chest. He didn't even stop to wonder why she'd asked him not to tell anyone at work that he was staying in her house.

The week passed quietly. JD found more film rolls but couldn't locate a darkroom to develop what he'd already shot. He spent the weekend photographing the farm and, discreetly, Joanne. He couldn't explain why he lacked the nerve to ask her for a picture, though he'd noticed her unease around cameras.

Work started rough—he didn't even know how to use the scanner—but it wasn't rocket science. As he settled in, his curiosity grew about Shamrock Logistics' mysterious owner, whom he'd never seen.

Apparently, she only visited the office once a week. The office assistant Jason was scared to even say her name. It only made his curiosity grow.

By Monday, JD found a moment to approach Nina, the receptionist and self-proclaimed queen of office gossip.

"She only cares about money," Nina said bluntly. "As long as we're making a profit, she's content. But the moment we slip up, she loses it. For her, we are just the little elves running around to make money. Greedy pig!"

"That can't be true," JD replied, instinctively defending the unseen owner. Rich people were often misunderstood—his own family had been branded unfairly too.

"No," Nina said, lowering her voice and leaning closer. "She's worse than greedy. She's a monster. Word is, she even killed for money."

"What?" JD blinked, leaning in unconsciously. A murderer running the company? And wasn't the owner supposed to be a woman? He leaned closer wanting to learn more. 

"But it gets interesting. She didn't murder just anyone," Nina whispered with a smirk to her lips and a glint in her eyes.

"Who?" JD asked in a whisper.