VIII. arrival

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Two weeks flew by fast. Agatha and Genesis could still vividly remember their heart pondering against their chest, their palms sweaty at the sight of each other.

The next thing they knew, the ranch was finally beyond their reach, its green pastures a sight Agatha would never get tired of seeing.

Tiptoeing, her hand against her chest, her pretty lips curved into a soft smile, her sapphire eyes roaming around, from the blue skies above, the pasturage, dozens and dozens of sheep and calves.

Awestruck, Agatha let out a soft sigh, settling back to her seat, her ears picking the chuckle from Genesis who simply watched her.

Delighted by her reaction, proud residing in his chest, Genesis grinned.

Indeed, the ranch is one marvelous sight.

When they passed by the red barn he remembered building from scratch two winters ago, Genesis saw how Agatha's eyes were strained at it.

Even he, the one who built it, is proud of the result. He tried convincing Devon to build one for himself as well but Devon simply shook the idea off, saying he has better plans for his lot.

"It's where we keep the livestock, I'll take you there later," uttered Genesis, eyeing her eye in the barn.

"Your ranch is ma-massive, Sir," admired Agatha, her eyes still roaming around the surroundings even when Genesis halted the buggy in front of a massive two-story house painted in white, the roof colored in ruddy.

Genesis, setting down the reins, hopped down the buggy, fetched her green carpet bag behind, then extended his arm to assist her which she accepted.

Agatha walking alongside Genesis, her hand snaking around his arm, she could feel her cheeks reddening which she was forced to suppress.

His head tips back behind them, he said, shrugging, "Only half of it is mine, the other's Devon though the fella still hasn't built himself a house, just this small cottage,"

"Per-perhaps he wants to keep the-things simple, Sir," she replied, her head following the direction of his, staring at the endless grasses.

"Devon? Devil take me, that's impossible. If ever he does, he doesn't need to go extreme, Agatha. That man, all his cattle and horses were suddenly gone the last time I was there," he responded, shaking his head, frowning, the two of them still walking towards the house.

Agatha was greeted with an elongated couch, coffee table, and frames, all in the same hue of brown. Her curious sweep through the drawing-room when she heard him, "Come, I'll show you to your room,"

The chamber upstairs, nearest the staircase has a pastel blue wallpaper, no peeling, the floor despite its dustiness was still overall clean. The single bed in the corner, three cream-colored pillows, a drawer.

She instantly knew the room was lacking. No, she was not picky. If anything, she found the room altogether beautiful, her spot in the washing room a no match.

"Whe-where are your things, Sir?" she asked, noticing the drawers bare.

"I'll be staying in the next room," he replied, scratching his head.

Agatha, indeed, was stunned at his answer for she thought they'll be staying in the same bed, as clarified by him.

"I figured it's best to have separate ones because of our six-month deal," he added, strolling towards the chair near the door, thus, lying her carpetbag.

Truth is, Agatha dreads sleeping beside him but now that she knows she really isn't, at least, for the next six months.

Celebrating was what she should be doing now yet she couldn't seem to even fake a smile.

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