by Ali Parker
He was already dressed. How in the hell did men get dressed so damn fast? I tied the laces on my boots before running my fingers through my hair. I looked up and saw him holding my shirt out to me. “Thanks,” I said, quickly pulling it on. “I have to go. I’ve got things to do.”
I finally forced myself to look at him.
“I need to shower and get ready to pick up Oliver,” he said, clearly wanting out of the barn just as badly as I did.
“All right, well, uh, see you later,” I said and walked past him before he could say anything else. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say but knew I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want empty platitudes or thanks for the quick roll in the hay, which was very close to what actually happened.
I hopped in my truck and drove away as fast as I could. I popped my eyes up to look in the rearview mirror and groaned when I saw my reflection. My cheeks were red, and my hair had little bits of hay in it. I couldn’t say if my cheeks were red because of the embarrassment I felt or if it was due to being overheated.
I had felt like an inferno burned in my belly with him buried inside me. Replaying the moment in my head was only making me turn redder. My skin was still flushed, and the layer of perspiration was more likely from the sex than the exercise. I needed a shower as well. I needed to wash it all away.
The guy had a kid. He was my client. I had no business doing that with him. That had been way out of line. I had never slept with a client before. Never.
I blamed him. If he wasn’t so damn sexy, I wouldn’t have felt the need to jump him. He’d taken off that shirt and I was done for. It was too much to resist. No straight, single woman would have been able to walk away from that without sampling the goods just a little.
A sizzle of heat burst through my body as I recounted my sampling of the man. It had been good, damn good. I wasn’t all that sad that I had sampled the goods. It was a sample that had left me wanting more, but I wouldn’t act on it.
I couldn’t act on it, I told myself. It was hands off from that point on.
Chapter 19
Damion
I was still shaken from the incident in the barn. Shaken was probably not the right word. I had been rocked to my very core. I had never, not ever, experienced such a strong physical need for a woman. There was something about her that set me on fire. I burned for her. Even now, when I knew it was probably a mistake, I wanted her again.
I blamed it on the barn and the sweat and how fucking hot she looked with the little bits of hay sticking in her hair. She was edgy and soft and too damn irresistible. I wanted her again. I didn’t know if that was an option or smart, but my body craved hers. Yesterday had been like sampling the goods and getting hooked.
I pulled my mind out of the memory, knowing it would only lead to a raging erection that would make it impossible to face her without wanting to really give her a good roll in the hay. I expected her to be back at the house when I got back from dropping Oliver off at school. I didn’t want to get out of the truck with a hard-on. She would get the wrong idea about what it meant.
Technically, it wouldn’t be the wrong idea, but it wasn’t all that I wanted. It was certainly a nice perk. Getting laid after years of celibacy had been the uncorking of the sexual need I had kept bottled up for a long, long time.
I hit the brakes when I saw an unfamiliar truck parked in the driveway. It wasn’t Alex’s truck—unless she had more than one. I parked my car in the usual spot and got out. That was when I saw him. I couldn’t help but put my shoulders back as I stuffed my keys into the front pocket of my jeans and made my way over to the stranger messing with my grandpa’s big mower. My mower.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked in my most menacing tone. I didn’t know who the guy was, but I wasn’t going to let him walk all over the new guy in town. I would show him I had the chops to defend what was mine.
The guy stood up to his full height. He was a lot taller than he looked hunched over the mower. “Good morning,” he greeted, flashing me a smile.
I took in the sight of him. Blond hair that was too long and had the permanent crease around his head from wearing a cowboy hat all the time. He wiped his hands on his worn, stained jeans and made his way toward me with his hand extended. I realized he was probably one of the hands my grandfather used.
“Good morning,” I answered in a reserved tone.
“You don’t know who I am,” he said with a laugh. “You show up and I’m out here fucking with your mower. I bet that’s why your chest is all puffed up.”
I chuckled, shaking his hand. “I am feeling a little puffy. Who are you?”
“I’m Justin Strickland. I come out about once a month or so, hop on this here bushwhacker, and mow down that big field that Oliver hasn’t done shit with.”
I smirked. “He always said it was a cover crop.”
“It’s been a cover crop for the five years I’ve been coming around. What the hell is it covering?”
“Dirt,” I said with a laugh. “I’m Damion Whittle.”
“Oh shit, you’re Oliver’s son?”
I shook my head, wondering how old he thought I was. I was seriously going to need to think about busting out the gray wash away stuff. “I’m his grandson.”
“Oh, yes, yes, I remember now. I was sorry to hear of his passing. I thought he would outlive all of us around here.”
“Thank you, and his death took us all by surprise.”
“So what are you doing back here? Cleaning the house out?”
I raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s mine now.”
“Well, hell. I guess I should ask you before I go tinkering with your tractor. Do you want me to mow that field?”
I shrugged. “If that’s what he had you do, yes, please.”
He grinned. “That’s what I do.”
“How long did you know my grandfather?” I asked, curious to know more about my grandfather’s life the past few years.
He ran a hand over his hair. “Hell, I don’t know, a few years. I knew of him way back when, but then I went off to the Army for a spell. I came back to town about five years ago with no job, no woman, and no nothing. Oliver gave me a job until I could find something a bit more substantial.”
“But you don’t work for him fulltime?”
“Not anymore. I work construction most days. Dirt work, they call it. I usually stop by here once a month, mow, and shoot the shit with Oliver over a few beers.”
I nodded, understanding he didn’t need the job. “I appreciate you being around for him.”
“Hell, Oliver was a good guy. I was glad to call him my friend. He was a tough old bird. I can’t believe none of us knew he was that sick. I was out here just a week before he died. I should have known something was up when he declined the beer.”
“He did a good job hiding it from all of us,” I said.
He smiled, a boyish grin. “Damn, he was a good guy. I’m sure going to miss him.”
“Me too,” I said in a somber tone.
“So, where’d you come from and I don’t mean from your mama.”
I chuckled. I liked the guy. He was a straight shooter. “I’ve been in New York for the past thirteen years.”
He cringed. “And before that?”
“Here.”
He blew out a breath. “Thank god. I thought you were going to be one of those city boys, the rhinestone-cowboy type. Glad I don’t have to kick your ass.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Kick my ass?”
“Well, hell, come on now. You’ve got to let me feel like the tough guy. What’d you run off to the city for? Play football?”
I laughed. “No. School and then work.”
“What kind of work do you do? Wait, don’t tell me—stockbroker.”
I frowned. “Why do you say stockbroker?”
“You got that pretty-boy look about you,” he said.
“I’m not a pretty boy,” I argued.
“You look pretty to me.”
&n
bsp; I took a step back. “Are you hitting on me? I have to tell you, I like women. You’re, uh, cute and all, but I’m pretty straight.”
He threw back his head and laughed. The sound loud and boisterous. It sounded a lot like Santa Claus. It was a big laugh for such a lanky man. “Fuck no, I’m not hitting on you. Sheesh, you have a very inflated ego. You’re definitely one of those Wall Street people.”
I shook my head, relieved to know he didn’t want me. “I’m an editor for a magazine.”
He scrunched up his nose. “I thought only women were editors. Like the Devil lady.”
“The devil lady?” I asked, wondering what the hell he was talking about.
“Ya, that one lady. The bitch.”
I knew who he was talking about. “No, it’s not all women.”
“And now you’re here? Are you selling the place?”
“No, I’m not selling.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
I laughed. “I’m living here. With my son.”
“You have a kid?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Five,” I answered. “I just dropped him off at school.”
“Where’s the little lady?”
I felt like I was talking to someone who knew English as a second language. Or I had it as a second language. “Little lady? Alex?”
He burst into another belly laugh. “As if Alex would ever be anyone’s little lady. No, your little lady.”
“Oh, I don’t have one.”
He slowly nodded. “Oh, one of them situations.”
“What situation would that be?”
“Ugly divorce? Is that why you’re back here?”
The guy was a character. “No divorce. My wife passed away five years ago.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” I told him.
He took a big breath. “I should probably get this mowing done before I stick my other big ol’ foot in my mouth.”
“I’ll let you get to it. I need to take care of the barn chores.”
He nodded, grabbed his hat from the seat of the mower, and pulled it on. I headed for the barn, listening to the sound of the mower fire up. I wondered if part of the reason my grandfather never planted anything in that field was a ploy to keep Justin coming back. I doubted he really needed the field mowed. He could turn the horses on it or do it himself. I knew my grandfather well enough to know his tricks.
Justin needed a job and my grandfather needed a friend. Technically, he had a lot of friends, but he seemed to be drawn to young guys that needed a hand up. It was so typical of him. It made me miss him even more.
I got busy in the barn, wondering when Alex would show up. I realized we had never really talked about a schedule. She kind of showed up when she wanted, and I had to be okay with that. I checked my watch and realized it was after noon. I was going to assume she wasn’t going to show up today. I hoped it wasn’t because of what had happened the day before. Things had gotten a little out of hand. I owed her an apology, I supposed.
I wasn’t sure how to apologize for sex. She’d been willing enough. Hell, she’d demanded it at one point. I probably should have used a little more finesse. She had scattered out of the barn pretty quickly after it happened. She didn’t leave me much of a chance to apologize.
I hoped I hadn’t screwed up and ruined things between us. I did like her, and I wanted her to be my friend. I would have to give her my word that I would not touch her again—unless she asked. No, I corrected myself. Not then either. Not until I figured out what I was doing.
It was sometime later when I heard the mower coming in from the field. I walked out to see Justin get off, wiping his brow before putting his hat back on. “She’s all done,” he announced.
“Great. Thanks.”
He stood there like he was waiting for something.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” I mumbled, reaching into my back pocket to pull out my wallet. All I had was a twenty, which was not even close to being enough. “I’ve only got a twenty on me.”
He smiled, taking it from me and holding it up. “A twenty will buy me a nice, cold six-pack. That’s all I need.”
“I can get you more,” I told him.
He shook his head. “Nope. I never did this for the money. This was me upholding my deal with Oliver.”
I smiled. “He seems to have a lot of deals with people around here. I’d like to pay you and I would love to have a beer and shoot the shit, but I have to pick up my son in about twenty minutes.”
He grinned. “Well, hell, I’m going to hold you to that. I’ll come by on a day when you don’t have to pick up the little one.”
“Sounds good,” I said, extending my hand. “Thanks for taking care of that field.”
“Ah hell, it gives me something to do. If I wasn’t mowing, I’d be drinking. Now I can feel like I accomplished something and not feel guilty when I go home and flop down on my couch with a cold beer.”
I laughed. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Chapter 20
Alex
I felt like I was playing hooky from school. I should have gone to the farm. I knew it, but I couldn’t do it. I had dressed and changed clothes three times when I realized why I kept changing my clothes. I was trying to impress him. I didn’t need to impress him with my looks. I needed to do my job, and that was that. I was not going to have sex with him again.
I had made a cup of coffee, telling myself I could face him and it would all be okay. We would both pretend it never happened and go on with our day. The longer I sat in my chair, stalling, I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look him in the eye and not think of him naked or him seeing me naked.
I bailed on the work. I was a big coward. I could admit it. I dumped the rest of my coffee into the sink and headed out the door. I felt like getting my hair cut. Not really, but it was a good excuse. I walked into her salon and caught her working on a client.
Sadie made a big show of looking at the clock, then back at me. “What are you doing here?”
“I need a trim.”
She knew the code. “Okay. Have a seat. I’ll be done in about ten minutes.”
I nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs. I picked up a magazine that was several months old and flipped through it. I wasn’t really looking at the pictures or reading the articles. I was just trying to keep my mind off Damion. I didn’t want to think about him. If I let myself think too much about him, I’d find myself driving my ass out to his farm and it wouldn’t be to work.
Sadie finished up with her client and walked her out before locking the door and flipping over the sign to say she was closed. “Let’s go get some coffee.”
I got to my feet and followed her out. We took seats at a table in the small diner. “Thanks,” I said.
“For what?”
“For getting coffee with me.”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“That obvious?” I said with a laugh.
She nodded. “I can see right through you. Is it the rich guy giving you shit again?”
“Which rich guy?” I groaned.
“Damion’s rich?”
“No, but he isn’t broke. I’ve heard nothing from the other guy and I better not ever hear from him again. He can kiss my ass.”
“All right, so it’s Damion.”
I bit my lip and figured honesty was the best policy. “We had sex.”
“Who had sex?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes, knowing she wasn’t that naïve. “Me. Damion. In the barn.”
Her smile lit up her face. “Dirty, dirty girl. I knew you had a thing for him.”
“I do not. You couldn’t have known anything because there is nothing to know.”
“You just said you slept with him. Did you trip and fall on his dick and it just slid in?”
I slapped a hand to my forehead. “You’re so vulgar.”
“You’re the one tryin
g to deny what you feel for the man. But enough of that. Give me the details. I want all the nasty, dirty details.”
“I’m not going to give you the details, but I will tell you it was amazing, and it was very spur of the moment. I shouldn’t have done it. I can’t face him. I can’t look at him.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Why not? Did he suddenly get ugly? Grow warts on his nose?”
“Can you be serious?” I scowled.
“I am being serious. You can look at him. You choose not to.”
“Because I feel guilty and I’m so embarrassed by my actions!”
She let out a sigh. “You are not the first woman to be attracted to an attractive man. People have sex. People have sex with no strings attached quite a lot.”
“I know that, but I’m not one of those people.”
“But it was fun, right?” she said with a wink.
I groaned. “It was, but it can’t happen again.”
“I’m going to agree with you on that part.”
That was not what I expected to hear. I wanted her to tell me it was okay to have a little fling. “Why?”
“Because he’s your client. I know you. You have some very strict rules about fraternization. You told me this guy has a kid. He’s probably looking for something serious. Are you ready for something serious? A commitment?”
I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “I can’t.”
“You could, but you and I both know how much you love your job. You love being on the move. Could you ever really settle down?”
I shrugged. “I want to believe I can one day.”
“Is that this day?”
“I don’t think so,” I breathed. “What does that mean?”
“It means you had great sex and that was that. You’re getting pretty worked up over this which tells me it was more than just sex. That’s where the danger lies. You like him.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know about that. I don’t hate him.”
She slowly shook her head. “You’re so worried you’re going to fall for a man and get hurt. You’re worried you might fall for a guy and change. You are set in your ways and the thought about settling down freaks you out. You’re terrified of growing roots. I’ve never questioned you about it, but you need to examine what it is that’s holding you back.”
