Colleen Faulkner

Barefoot and Pregnant?


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      “And he had a woman with him and a baby in a car seat in the back. The man’s married. Jerk.”

      “No, Liz, listen to me. I saw Zane and he…he was driving a pickup. An old pickup.” She took a deep breath. “Liz, he got out of the truck at a feed store wearing overalls.”

      “Sweet Mary, mother of Joseph,” Liz swore.

      “I don’t think he’s a doctor or a lawyer,” Elise said. “What do I do?”

      “What do you do?” Liz shrieked. “You cancel the date, of course. You were the top seller for Waterfront Realty last month. You don’t date farmers.”

      Elise gathered her client’s paperwork from the passenger’s seat. She should have known that’s what Liz would say. Liz was all about how things appeared. She didn’t even date men who were junior partners in a firm. “You think?” Elise said in a small voice.

      “Look at the book, peruse the checklist,” Liz said firmly. “It’s not one of the choices, sweetie. I don’t care how fine-looking the man is.”

      “I have to go,” Elise told Liz. “I’m dropping off Joe Carmine’s contracts on that warehouse.”

      “Call and cancel the date,” Liz insisted. “Just call, and leave a message on Zane’s answering machine and tell him you can’t meet him, but if he wants to talk about land, he can call the office and you’ll be happy to see him.”

      “Gotta go, Liz,” Elise said. “Talk to you later.”

      Elise climbed out of her car and delivered her client’s contracts. Half an hour later, back in the car, she picked up her cell phone and stared at it. Was Liz right? Should she cancel now before things went any further with Zane? Just leave a message on his answering machine? He wasn’t fitting the profile she’d laid out for herself. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for a husband. Her whole attraction, so far, had been based on sheer chemistry. Right?

      It was the right thing to do. Before she changed her mind, she hit the buttons on the phone, rehearsing what she would say as she waited for his answering machine to pick up.

      Did farmers even have answering machines?

      “Hello.”

      Zane’s voice startled Elise so badly that she almost hung up. He was there? How was he there? She had just seen him at the feed store. Shouldn’t he be out riding a tractor or something?

      “Hello?” Zane repeated.

      “Z-Zane,” Elise said, trying to find her voice.

      “Ellie.”

      She could almost hear his smile over the phone. “Yes, it’s Elise.” She paused. She knew what she needed to say now. She needed to tell him that she couldn’t make it Friday night. That was all she had to say. She didn’t need to make an excuse. In business, one never made excuses.

      “Hey, you’re not calling to bail out on me, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

      “N-no, no of course not.” The words just tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

      He had called her Ellie. He had smiled when he said her name. He was so darned nice.

      She took a deep breath. Why was she listening to other people instead of herself? The heck with Liz. The heck with her father’s voice in her head. Maybe she’d just made a mistake when she’d filled out the career part in The Husband Finder. Maybe she was supposed to be more general. “Of course I’m not canceling,” she said.

      “Well, good, because I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

      “You have?” she said softly.

      “Mmm-hmm. I actually turned down my sister’s garlic roast for you. She called last night to see if I wanted to come to dinner Friday night, and I told her I was busy.”

      That was so sweet. No man had ever turned down his sister’s roast for her before.

      “So,” she said. “What are you doing home this time of day? I…I thought I would get your answering machine. I was…just calling to see what I should wear Friday. You said you wanted to talk about some land, but I didn’t know if that meant drinks…dinner?” she said, hoping she didn’t come on too strong.

      “Dress casual. Wear sneakers. No panty hose. I want to take you out on my boat, show you a piece of land I’m interested in. As for why I’m home, I’m here because I wanted to check my chicks before I went by the office.”

      What he said about the boat went right over her head. She heard the word office and her heart buoyed. She didn’t know what the deal with the old truck and the overalls was, but he worked in an office. Farmers didn’t have offices.

      Then she realized he had said “chicks.” Surely he didn’t run a topless dancing place or something. “Your chicks?” she asked.

      He laughed. “Baby chicks. Peeps. You know. Gallus domesticus. Chickens. As in Kentucky Fried. I raise chickens.”

      A chicken farmer? Her prince who was going to save her from a life of microwave popcorn dinners and lonely nights with Letterman was a chicken farmer? There was no way chicken farmer was going to fit on that itty bitty line on The Husband Finder checklist.

      “Chickens?” she managed. “You raise chickens?”

      “Actually eggs. These chicks are a new breed I’m trying out. I like to keep my eye on them myself. So how’s six?”

      “Six? Six is good.” Elise felt numb to the tips of her toes and she didn’t think it was because her shoes were too tight. “I’ll be ready at six. I…I’ll meet you at the boat dock. I’ll have to come right from work.”

      He gave her directions to the place on the bay where he put out his boat. Elise just kept nodding like a numb wit.

      “Listen, I’d better get back to work,” Zane said.

      “Me, too,” Elise answered, as if coming out of her daze.

      “See you Friday on the dock?”

      “See you Friday.”

      She hung up and sat there in her car for a moment staring at the cell phone in her hand. A smile found its way to her face as she was filled with a strange sense of confidence. A chicken farmer? So what if he was a chicken farmer? He was still the finest looking chicken farmer she’d ever seen in a tux.

      He was the only chicken farmer she’d ever seen in a tux.

      She’d just squeeze it in on the checklist.

      Smiling to himself, Zane hung up the phone on the wall by the refrigerator. He was looking forward to seeing Ellie on Friday; he was glad he had set aside his concerns about her occupation.

      He opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of lemonade. Elise Montgomery wasn’t the kind of woman Zane usually dated. He tended to go for the earthy sort; flowered skirts, long, flowing hair, recycling fanatics. Kindergarten teachers. Social workers. He wished he’d asked Ellie more about her work. She had told him that she worked for a realty company. He wondered if selling real estate was just a job to her or if she was a “career woman.” He hadn’t had much luck with career women. In fact, he’d made a pact with himself to stay away from them.

      First there had been his mother; she’d never been meant to have a husband, children. Then he’d dated Judy, one of his researchers for two years, and then asked her to marry him. They had actually been looking at wedding dates when she’d gotten the chance to take a job in Singapore. She had told Zane that she had deep feelings for him, but that she was at a point in her life when she had to put herself and her career first. As much as he hated to admit it, then and now, Judy had really hurt him. Now, as uncool and as backward as it sounded, he was looking for a woman ready to devote herself to a relationship. He wanted