Joanne jumped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, but before she could step inside, Fluffy’s sharp barks echoed through the house.
Her brow furrowed.
He was hungry. That wasn’t surprising, but... why was he making such a fuss when Jeffrey was there?
A small, nagging feeling settled in her chest.
She glanced at the unmade bed, the sheets still tangled, stained with the remnants of the night before. A flush crept up her neck as she stripped them and tossed them into the laundry.
As she made her way downstairs, the quietness of the house settled over her like a heavy weight.
Sothing felt off.
Joanne’s gaze swept over the living room, landing on the items scattered on the floor—her phone, her bra. She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head as she picked them up. Last night had been a blur of passion. No wonder things had ended up everywhere.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. She should call him.
But when she pressed the power button, the screen remained black.
Dead.
She exhaled and set it to charge, turning toward the kitchen. She could at least make him breakfast for when he returned. He probably went out for a morning walk, maybe to take photographs. He did love his quiet mornings.
Yes. That had to be it.
Still...
The feeling in the corner of her heart refused to fade.
Sothing wasn’t right.
Despite the unease creeping into her thoughts, Joanne went ahead with breakfast. Jeffrey had a sweet tooth in the mornings, so she prepared sourdough toast with ricotta, drizzled with honey, and topped with fresh fruits.
The scent of warm bread and citrus filled the kitchen, a comforting contrast to the unsettling quiet.
But he still didn’t return.
Perched on the kitchen counter, she sipped her coffee, eyes drifting to the barn. The farmhands were already deep in their work, moving between the stables and fields. Any minute now, she expected to see Jeffrey striding back, cara slung around his neck, maybe with that lopsided smirk of his.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
The nagging worry that she had pushed aside earlier settled deeper in her chest. She didn’t want to just sit and wait, so she grabbed her jacket and headed toward the barn.
By the ti she arrived, most of the morning chores had already been completed.
"Sorry for not helping today," she said, feeling a twinge of guilt.
Patrick, the oldest and most dependable of her workers, gave her a knowing smile and patted her shoulder. "It’s fine, lassie. You deserve a break."
She offered a small smile in return, but her attention flickered to Jason—the youngest of the farmhands and the one with the biggest social dia presence as he took care of her farm’s social dia accounts. He was acting strangely, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact.
"Jason, is sothing wrong? Do you want to say sothing to " she asked.
His shoulders tensed and Joanne didn’t fail to notice the others staring at him. "Nope! Nothing!" He practically bolted, disappearing before she could press further.
Her stomach twisted. What the hell was going on?
Shaking it off for now, she turned back to Patrick. "By the way, have you seen JD?"
Patrick arched a brow. "Why are you lookin’ for him so early in the mornin’?" A sly grin tugged at his lips. "And what did you do to your face? You look... different."
She blinked. "Different?"
He chuckled. "You’re glowing, lass."
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She waved him off, mumbling, "Nothing..." before heading back to the house.
Once inside, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror—and Patrick wasn’t wrong. Her skin had a fresh, dewy glow.
Huh. Who knew great sex was the secret to radiant skin?
She shook her head and turned her attention to sothing more pressing. If Jeffrey was out sowhere on the property, maybe she could spot him on the security feed. She grabbed her laptop and pulled up the footage.
Most of the caras were working fine, but... Her fingers hovered over the trackpad.
One of the caras was down. She recalled it not working last night too.
Joanne frowned, vaguely recalling that the technician had warned her about a possible power cable issue. She quickly sent him a ssage, and he responded almost imdiately: Check if that cable has worn out. If so, you’ll need a replacent.
She decided to check it out after breakfast.
But before she could close her laptop, an unexpected urge settled over her.
Like a weight had been lifted, an odd sense of clarity took hold. She didn’t overthink it. She opened her email and quickly typed a ssage.
{
To: Philip Winchester
Subject: A Request for a eting
Dear Mr. Winchester,
I hope you are doing well. I am doing great here, thanks to your tily help.
There is sothing important I would like to discuss with you, and I would greatly appreciate it if you could grant an appointnt at a ti and place of your convenience.
Wishing you good health and a long life.
With love,
Joanne Smith
}
She wanted to return what she owed. She knew it was important for her to move on. Move on from the debt and to move on from...
Him.
Jeffrey Winchester.
As Joanne typed, Fluffy suddenly rushed to the door, barking loudly.
She barely noticed. Her focus was locked on the email, carefully choosing every word. She didn’t want to co across as proud or demanding.
Her fingers hovered over the send button, her eyes scanning the ssage one last ti.
"Philip Winchester?"
The familiar voice behind her sent a sharp jolt through her chest.
"Ah... JD?" She turned with a smile, but it faltered almost imdiately.
The overpowering scent of alcohol hit her first. Then, as she took in his disheveled appearance—the rumpled clothes, the dark circles under his eyes, the storm brewing in his gaze—her heart clenched.
He looked terrible.
A question burned on the tip of her tongue. Why did you go to a bar first thing in the morning? They had just spent an incredible night together. Shouldn’t he be as lighthearted as she was?
But sothing in his posture, in the hard set of his jaw, made her hold back.
For the first ti since she’d t him, she felt... uneasy.
Was she imagining it? Or was there sothing different about the way he was looking at her—sothing sharp, sothing cold? The warmth she had grown used to in his eyes was gone, replaced by sothing unreadable.
"Yes..." she said, keeping her voice steady. "He’s... helped so much in the past. I want to return what I owe him."
Jeffrey’s frown deepened.
"Return?" His voice was low, quiet—but the weight of it pressed down on her.
Sothing was wrong. Terribly wrong.
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