Sparring Partners (LOVE’S HARBOUR) by Ali Ryecart EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ali Ryecart
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Sweat trickled down Adrian’s neck as he hauled the hay bales into the barn.
The summer sun beat down on the rolling fields of his small farm, the deep
blue sky dotted with puffy, white cumulus clouds. His muscles strained
under his threadbare T-shirt, dust and hay clinging to his arms. He paused
for a moment, and looked out over his land.
His land. Even now, he had to remind himself that Ladywell Farm was
his and his alone. That hadn’t been how it was meant to be, but it was what
it was.
Stretching, he tilted his neck from side to side to ease out the knots. If
he believed in a heaven, he was sure his old man would be looking down on
him — and smirking. Or sneering. Adrian shoved his fingers through his
unruly dark hair. It was just as well, then, he didn’t believe.
A screech split the air. Adrian whirled around just in time to see the
hawk take flight, a limp body clutched in its talons. The cycle of life and
death on full display, it was the way of the countryside and not for the
squeamish. Not everybody could adjust to the reality of rural living. His jaw
clenched. It’d been something he’d discovered the hard way.
The familiar bleating from his small flock of sheep was a reminder he
had a lot more work to do. Shaking off his moment of gloomy reflection, he
headed over to the pasture, grabbing the last bale along the way.
“All right, all right, I’m coming.” Tossing it into the field, the sheep
swarmed around it.
One, much smaller than the rest, battled through the scrum. Bleating
hard, it shoved through the woolly wall to claim its share. A faint smile
tugged at the corner of Adrian’s mouth. It had been a weak, scrawny little
thing when it’d fought to be born, back in the spring, and nobody had
expected it to survive. Tyson, as he’d secretly named the lamb, had
surprised them all. The puny little scrap had proved to be a fighter and had
grown into an undersized sheep who wasn’t even fit enough to be given
away at the livestock market.
Adrian groaned as he watched the small flock feed.
First rule of running a farm. Do not anthropomorphise the livestock. Do
not give them names. And definitely do not scratch the undersized, limping,
three and a bit legged wool ball that was making its way towards him.
“You sure you’re not really a dog, Ty?” Adrian leant over the fence to
do all the things he shouldn’t as the tiny, undersized sheep bleated up at
him. “You do realise you’re going to end up in a stew?”
Was the little runt really giving him the side eye? Tyson didn’t believe a
word he said, and Adrian wasn’t sure he believed himself, either.
Giving Tyson a final scratch, Adrian turned towards the farmhouse.
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