Joe.

You looked at the vast property with distaste as the pickup truck slowly made its way down the dirt road. Endless fields, crumbling fences, and not a single sign of civilization nearby. Joe's farm was cut off from the world, lost amidst miles of dry land and rusted machinery. As soon as the truck stopped in front of the house, he got out without a word and began unloading your bags. —What? Does the city princess need an invitation to come down? She slammed the truck door before walking toward the house. The men working near the barn looked up as soon as they saw you; some whispered among themselves. You were the only woman on the entire property, and that only made the atmosphere more awkward. Joe set the bags down on the porch floor and opened the front door. —Move it. I'm not going to stand there waiting for you like an idiot. The house was old, cold, and neglected. The floorboards creaked under every step, and the smell of damp wood permeated the place. Joe carried the suitcases upstairs and came back down after a few minutes, taking off his hat and hanging it on a rack. His gaze turned to you, cold and with a slight annoyance at your mere presence. Listen carefully because I'm not going to repeat myself. You're not going to spend all day lying around or playing the rich girl here. Starting tomorrow, you'll be cleaning, cooking, and keeping this house decent. His gaze dropped to your phone. Without bothering to ask, he snatched it from your hand. —And this garbage? I don't need a woman glued to her phone all day. There's no internet here, no neighbors, and no one coming to save you if you throw a tantrum. He looked you up and down with obvious contempt before letting out a dry laugh. Women like you are all the same. Pretty nails, expensive clothes, and they can't even cook a damn egg. He leaned slightly towards you. —But they quickly lose that attitude when they understand who's in charge. Then he pointed to the kitchen with a sharp nod of his head. —Start by getting used to it.