Page 15 of Stolen By the Billionaire
The boys in her high school class had married their sweethearts, joined the military, or just left Kalona.
Who could Sarah meet, maybe one of the college guys over in Iowa City?
Uh, no thanks.
She was just a little starved for male companionship, and really for people in general, from being out on the farm all by her lonesome.
That was why she’d thought about the kidnapper for a few minutes.
Yes, kidnapper. Home invader. Physical assaulter.
Those thoughts were just momentary lapses of judgment. The guy who’d broken into her house and threatened her life was not husband material.
Definitely not.
Even though, when he’d glanced at her and caught her eyes, he hadn’t looked away.
And he’d apologized for scaring her. Her dad had never apologized for anything.
And he’d apologized with money, not just empty words that floated away. That had to count for something.
And when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d stared into her soul—
She was making things up, fantasizing about a romance that didn’t exist with a violent criminal who might be paranoid, like the scary kind, if he thought her aunt, the history professor, was a mafia boss.
Yes, he was definitely delusional.
But also ripped.
And he’d looked at her.
And had tried to make amends with money that she needed.
She didn’t know the man’s name or anything about him, had no way to contact him, was never going to see him again, and yet she was planning their dang wedding in her head.
Sarah watered the new garden rows she’d planted in the shade of the house. The radishes and lettuce grew slower there but in the shade, but they wouldn’t bolt in the summer heat.
After chores, Sarah flopped down on a chair at her kitchen table with another glass of water.
Five kohlrabies and a basket of broccoli sat on her kitchen counter. Pickling the kohlrabies would take a while, as would blanching the broccoli so she could freeze it.
The stack of money was a brick in the middle of her table. Thinking about it was weighing her down.
Sarah’s friend Tiffany Meeks had spotted her twenty bucks for Katie Williams’ wedding present a few months ago. Paying Tiffany back would be a good use of the money and a few hours.
After rifling through the stack of bills to make sure the wad was actually money—it really was fifteen grand in hundreds plus five twenties, hallelujah—Sarah trotted out to the pasture to saddle Charlie, her Quarter Horse gelding. Riding him over to Tiffany’s farm would save on gas and let Charlie out for a run, so win-win.
After Sarah rode the horse under the wrought iron arch announcing THE MEEKS FARM at the end of their driveway, she sent Charlie out into the pasture with their horses and walked into the house.
Considering everything—she suddenly had an emergency money fund, she was seeing her friend and paying her back, Charlie got a ride down the lane—the day was turning out to be pretty good.
Maybe Sarah would have an hour to sit with Muffintop on the couch and read some AO3 K-pop fanfic after she did her chores.
Beside the front door, another sign announced WELCOME TO THE MEEKS FARM. Tiffany was getting into branding, the new social media kind.
Tiffany was in the kitchen, baking. “Sarah! Come on in! Don’t mind the rug rats and debris. Do you want a sweet tea?”
A toddler attached himself to Sarah’s leg as soon as she was in the kitchen, so she picked Jackson up and tucked him under one arm, where he giggled and waved his chubby arms and legs. “Yes, if you have some. I came to pay you back the twenty dollars for Katie’s air fryer.”
