Page 4 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

The sun beats down on the back of my neck, and sweat rolls down my temples as I tighten the barbed wire on the last bit of fencing that needs repairing for the day. John hands me a bottle of water, and I chug half of it in one go.

“Do you want me to go with you to check on the horses?” he asks.

I wipe the sweat from my brow with my shirt sleeve. “Nah. I’ll take care of it. You can head to the bunkhouse. You stink.”

“You’re one to talk.”

I laugh before finishing off the bottle of water. “We’re still going out, right?”

“Of course. I need a drink after today.”

“So do I.”

It’s definitely been a long day with a lot of work to do around the ranch. And if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the past five years, we still enjoy a good drink.

We part ways, and on my way to the stables, I give Lucas a call to let him know the fence is finished.

He’s the one who gave John and I jobs on his ranch, and he’s a great guy considering he pays us under the table, lets us live in the bunkhouse, and gave us an old white and blue pickup truck to borrow when we need to.

He thanks me for the work we did and says to enjoy our evening.

At the stables, I do a quick check on the horses, stopping by Marley’s stall last.

“Hey, girl,” I say as I brush my hand down the dark bay horse’s neck.

Marley is the same horse that I stole from the prince, and she feels like the last little piece of Sherwood Forest I have left.

John and I have both changed so much since we’ve been here that that feels like a whole other life ago.

Sometimes it feels as though it wasn’t even mine. Like it was all a dream.

Or maybe that’s just what I’ve convinced myself because I prefer not to think about the past too much.

“I’ll take you out for a nice, long ride tomorrow, okay?”

Marley lets out a little nicker—a soft, low vibrating sound—and shakes her head. I give her a gentle pat on the neck and head out of the stables.

John is just getting out of the shower when I get to the bunkhouse.

It’s a small one with half a dozen beds and one bathroom and a small kitchen area.

John and I are technically the only ones currently living here, so it’s plenty of space for us.

There are a couple of guys who stay during the spring and summer, and there’s another who only crashes here when he works late or his boyfriend is out of town and he doesn’t want to be alone.

There have been a lot of things I’ve had to get used to in this world, and that was just one of them.

But with adjusting to all the new and scary things, sharing sleeping quarters with a gay man was the least of my concerns.

Honestly, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Even with the place and time I come from, I’ve always believed in the freedom of being who you are.

Plus, Spencer’s a good guy. His boyfriend Brian works at the nearby state park, and John and I volunteer over there, sometimes doing wildlife tours with Spencer.

I’ve been to one of the big cities in this world exactly once, and you couldn’t pay me to go back.

I don’t mind the small town that’s a few miles away, but I’ll always prefer the peace and quiet of nature.

After I get a shower and dress in clean jeans and a white t-shirt under a dark gray jacket, I meet John outside on the deck. He’s sitting on one of the two wooden benches with his phone in his hand, looking like a giant lumberjack in plaid, and I can’t help but grin.

Last weekend, he met a woman at the bar in town that we frequent, and they’ve been texting ever since. Before that, he spent more time cursing at the small electronic device than he did actually using it.

Neither one of us have had any kind of romantic relationship since we’ve been here, though I know John’s hooked up at least a couple of times. I’m glad to see that he might actually be ready for something real, that he could be happy.

Not that I’m un happy. This life isn’t a bad one. I miss Marian everyday, of course, but the grief has eased.

I’ve heard the saying that time heals all wounds, but it hasn’t healed. I’m just able to keep it from bleeding most days.

Thinking of that time as an entirely other life helps.

“Ready to head out, lover boy?” I ask as I head down the steps.

“What? Oh.” John finishes up a text, not leaving the bench until I’m already at the truck. He slides into the passenger seat while I get behind the wheel and says, “Bethany’s going to meet us at the bar if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” I tell him as I turn the key in the ignition.

“She said she’s bringing a friend.” He jerks his bushy brows at me.

I laugh and shake my head as I pull out of the ranch and onto the county road that leads into town. “Does she own a crystal business too? Because if she tries to convince me to buy a rock for emotional stability or slips one in my pocket to make me fall in love with her…”

The screen of his phone is off, but he holds onto it in his lap as he chuckles. “Hey, we’re the last two who should doubt the mystical properties of nature.”

“Fair point.”

We don’t talk about whatever—or whoever —it was that brought us here much, not since we decided we have no idea what or who it was and probably never will.

“But, seriously,” he says. “Maybe you should talk to her. See if you like her.”

“I will.”

“Really?” Even though it was his idea, he sounds surprised.

I shrug. “I haven’t sworn off women, John. I just haven’t met anyone who interests me.”

“Maybe that’ll change.”

“Maybe.”

But I doubt it.

As we get into town, I head to the only grocery store, a small one that gets all the town’s business. John’s phone lights up for the fourth time during the trip as I pull into a spot.

“I was just going to run in to pick up those few things we need,” I tell him. “I’m guessing you’re staying in the truck?”

He’s smiling, but it’s not at anything I just said, his focus solely on his phone.

“Good talk,” I say with a smirk when he says nothing.

“What?” He looks up as I open my door, peering around as though he’s just realized where we are. “Oh, yeah. I’ll wait here.”

I shake my head with exaggerated disappointment. “And just like that, I’ve lost my best mate.”

He laughs a low, loud rumble. “Don’t be dramatic, Robin.” Just before I slam the door shut, he adds, “Don’t forget the beer!”

Giving him one last look through the window, I poke my bottom lip out, making sure to be extra dramatic about it. He flips me off, and my composure breaks as I laugh and walk away toward the store. I grab a cart and start down the aisles, picking up bread, a few cans of soup, and the beer.

Yes, we’re going to the bar, but we have to make sure to keep the bunkhouse stocked too.

Once I’ve got everything from the mental list I was keeping, I head to the checkout.

On my way, I catch a young boy out of the corner of my eye shoving two cans of Chef Boyardee in his backpack, keeping his head down.

He can’t be more than twelve or thirteen.

There’s only one reason a kid that young would be stealing food .

In the checkout line, I pay for the groceries, and while the clerk is placing the cash in the register, I swipe two candy bars from below the counter and put them in my pocket. Sure, I could afford to pay for them, but, well…

Old habits die hard.

Outside, I look around until I spot the boy from in the store. “Hey, kid!”

He spins around, his eyes wide with panic as he takes several steps backward, clutching the straps of his backpack with white knuckles.

Before he can break out into a full sprint, I hold up a hand in a kind of surrender. “Just wanted to talk to you for a second.”

He stares at me warily but stops moving so that I can take a couple steps closer, still keeping my distance. I pull the two candy bars out of my pocket and hold them out.

His eyes narrow. “You think I’m dumb enough to take candy from a stranger?”

I snort. “Okay, good point. Didn’t think that through, did I?”

Tossing the chocolate into one of my grocery bags, I reach into my back pocket and take out a twenty dollar bill, holding that out for him instead.

He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a hard look. “I don’t need charity.”

“How about some advice then?” I wave the cash in front of him until he snatches it out of my hand with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t keep your head down when you’re doing something you don’t want to be caught doing. You’ll lose precious time if they see you before you see them.”

His face falls. “You’re not going to turn me in?”

“Turn you in for what?” I give him a smile before turning around and heading for the truck.

After dropping the groceries in the bed, I climb into the driver seat. John is still glued to his phone, and I throw both the candy bars into his lap before putting the truck in reverse and backing out of the parking spot.

“Thanks?” He says it like a question but doesn’t hesitate to open one up and shove half of it into his mouth.

It’s a short drive to the bar downtown, and as we get out of the cab, the sun is already disappearing behind the mountains in the distance, outlining them in a dazzling gold. We enter the bar and head to the table that John’s girl has already saved for us.

Bethany is pretty. She has long, dark hair with kind eyes and a soft smile and wears a flowery dress with a denim jacket, crystals hanging from her ears and the chain around her neck.

The woman sitting across the table from her is admittedly beautiful too—short, blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes.

She holds her hand out for me as I sit down beside her and introduces herself as Emma.

I shake her hand, but I’m a little too distracted by the way John’s face lights up as he slides into the bench seat next to Bethany, his cheeks turning a little pink as she reaches over to adjust the collar of his shirt.