Stealing A Farmer's Heart

Stealing A Farmer's Heart Part 9

Farmer was so nervous; her body was vibrating. It had been decades since she went on a date with a woman. She thought that since she'd already gotten to know Brynn, that going on a date would be easy breezy, but her hammering heart and fluttering butterflies in her tummy was telling her a different story.

Staring back at herself in her dresser mirror, she started self doubting her appearance. "What do I do with my hair?" She ran a hand through her newly barbered haircut; it was still wet from her shower. She hated to admit it, but she was rather inept when it came to hair products and how to use them. The barber had styled her hair to perfection and Farmer knew she wouldn't get her hair to look as good. Farmer never worried about her appearance, especially running a dairy farm. A hat usually covered her unruly locks paired with dirty pants, checkered button down, and muddy boots.

"I can't wear a hat on the date, don't be dumb, Farmer," muttering to herself.

She twisted the lid off the paste she purchased at the barbershop and applied it to the longer locks on top of her head. She then picked up the black comb from her dresser and ran it through her hair. She was relieved she thought to get a haircut when she was in town. Again, living on a farm, away from civilization, she never regularly groomed. Farmer placed the comb back on the dresser and images of the man from town flashed through her mind. Locking her jaw as she pressed her fists against the top of the dresser, feeling the muscles in her arms tighten at the thought of him harming Brynn. Son of a bitch. She knew it wasn't smart to get herself all riled up over a man who was the epitome of cow dung, and knowing she had the power to crush him. She stepped back from the dresser and relaxed her body.

Looking down at her rhinestone embroidered jeans and tucked-in, snap button, ranch shirt, she sighed heavily and tossed her head back out of frustration. "Oh, Lordy, I look like I'm going to a barn dance." She glanced at herself in the mirror. "It's the shirt, it's gotta be the shirt."

She knew her clothes were outdated, but she figured she couldn't go wrong with blue jeans. Even if they were ten-years old and had rhinestones glued to the back pockets. She quickly pulled the shirt apart, making all the buttons audibly snap open and tossed it onto the floor. She opted for something that didn't scream "country" and picked a simple black button down. "Tucked in or untucked?" She tried both ways, deciding on tucked-in; it looked cleaner in her eyes. She buckled up her black belt then picked up a bottle of her favourite cologne and spritzed it on her neck. She started choking on the fumes, "Too much! Too much!" and waved her hands and arms around herself, trying to rid the odour. She was forced to jog over to her bedroom window and open it, allowing the fresh air to mix with the overpowering smell of her cologne. "Holy shit, I'm gonna literally knock her off her feet."

Brynn

Brynn was down the hall in one of the spare bedrooms getting ready for her date with Farmer. She was excited to not only be going on a date with a woman she'd grown feelings for, but to just be simply going out at all. Brynn's social anxiety and her sometimes crippling bipolar, prevented her from having a social life and enjoying the lighter side of life. Those facts were all true before John, and now that she had escaped his chains, she was starting to feel somewhat normal again; bipolar and self-esteem issues aside. Brynn's moods had improved and remained steady for the past couple of weeks, thanks to Farmer's support and helping her get to a doctor.

Brynn was experiencing the same problem Farmer was having; not knowing what to wear. She originally was going to wear blue jeans with a form-fitted pink blouse, but she figured it was too simple. Brynn twirled around in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the short, blue floral print dress she had picked up at the bargain shop. It flared out at the bottom around her thighs and showed an appealing amount of cleavage.