“You’re all grown up now.”
I nodded and watched as she pulled my shirt up and over my head and took a moment to just look at me in my black bra. She touched the tops of my breasts with her fingertips, and I closed my eyes. Delicious shivers, right on time. She dipped her head and kissed through the lace of my bra, first one breast and then the other. As she straightened, she slid a thigh between mine and pressed it upward, pulling a gasp from me, my mind ceasing all thought. She tugged the straps of my bra to my elbows, trapping my arms at my sides and revealing my breasts.
“Look at you,” she whispered.
She dipped her head, sucked a nipple into her mouth, and bit down softly. I heard myself cry out as little shock waves of pleasure hit. I began to rock helplessly against her thigh.
I’d lost control and I needed it back.
I pulled her mouth back to mine and walked her to the bed. With my hand behind her back, I lowered her. As she looked up at me, I lost the bra entirely and watched her eyes darken. I didn’t have time for her jeans and pulled them down her legs. I ran my hands along the smooth expanse of her skin from her ankles, to her calves, to her thighs. When my thumbs met at her apex, she hissed in a breath and arched her back. I looked down at her, watching her expression shift as I moved a finger across the fabric between her legs. Once, twice, three times. Her underwear was damp, and I had to close my eyes to steady myself.
They had to go, too.
With my thumbs I slid them down and tossed them over my shoulder. I pushed her legs apart and placed an open-mouth kiss between them. Courtney hissed in a breath and squirmed beneath my mouth.
But I hadn’t even gotten started.
I slowly licked my way around her perimeter, nearing where she wanted me to touch most and then moving away, keeping her on the verge. The give and take had her hips straining for purchase, but I held her in place with my arms wrapped around her legs.
I kissed my way up her body, caressing her stomach, pushing her shirt up to reveal a white and pink bra. “You’re killing me,” I murmured at the display and dove in, kissing the tops of the breasts that no other woman’s had compared to.
Good God, Courtney had fantastic breasts, and I needed to see them.
I pushed up the cups of her bra and greeted each one with my mouth. Her hands were in my hair, holding me in place as I took my time. All the while, her hips moved in little circles. I ran my teeth across her nipple before pulling it into my mouth firmly, sucking hard, biting down. She cried out, but I remembered how much she liked that move.
“You remember me,” she murmured.
“In detail,” I said, and did it again.
She gripped my hair harder when I bit down, pushing herself against my thigh, desperate now. I slipped a hand between her legs and played, pulling a succession of helpless little sounds. “Maggie,” she breathed. The sound of my name inspired an intense flutter low in my body that rocked me, and I realized I might come before she did. Unable to wait any longer, I slid inside her, and she gripped the bedspread. “More,” she said, opening for me, and I was happy to oblige. As I moved within her, the slow build inside me climbed and spread out. I buried my face against her neck and, with my palm, pressed into her fully. The sound of her cry as the orgasm hit was all it took to send me with her into blissful oblivion. Spent and satisfied, we lay there side by side, staring up at the ceiling.
“I missed this,” she murmured finally and looked over at me. “Missed you.”
I propped myself up on my elbow and rested my head in my hand. “What if we just made everything harder?” I asked.
She thought on the question and traced the outline of my breast. “How can anything be harder than trying to resist you all these weeks?”
I shook my head at the truthfulness of that statement. “You make a valid point. The book club.” I covered my eyes. “The stupid book club where you were all scholastic and hot and leading those poor women on.”
She gasped. “I most certainly wasn’t leading them on. I was being friendly, which is what you do when you don’t know people well.”
“Doesn’t matter. To them you were walking lesbian catnip.”
She laughed. “All I know is that I couldn’t take my eyes off you that night. It was like Abraham Lincoln all over again, when you start making points and getting all worked up about them. That’s when I knew there was no going around this, around you.”
I kissed her because I had to and luxuriated in it, memorizing the taste as if I could ever, in a million years, forget. “I wanted you that night,” I confessed. “Badly.”
“If I’d known the badly part, we might have been here sooner.”
The reality of our situation began to creep in. “What do we do now?”
Her smile waned and she sat up. We weren’t touching anymore, which was a startling reminder that this wasn’t Courtney and me young and in love. We were now the adult versions of ourselves, and this had been a transaction. “I’m only here for a little while,” she said simply.
Right. We both knew what this was and what it was not. But if anything, the temporary quality felt like a much-needed safety net. Courtney’s impending departure date would act as an ever-present reminder that what we were doing came with an expiration date. Neat. Tidy. We had shelter against any sort of terrifying entanglement. I wasn’t stupid. There were feelings for Courtney buried deep, and it was best to keep them right were they were.
Done. Decided.
“Until the wind changes,” I said, and met her gaze.
“Until then.”
It seemed we’d reached an informal agreement, and I felt lighter somehow, as if a burden had been lifted. My heart was safe. I looked on as she dressed, still mesmerized by her body. “Why the first house?” I asked. “After all that time, all that energy, and it was the first one all along?”
She sighed and turned back to me after pulling the T-shirt over her head. “It’s possible I loved the house right off. And it’s possible I knew it all along.”
I narrowed my gaze. “No way. You’re a big fat liar?”
“Way.” She laughed. “I am. It’s embarrassing but true. You didn’t want anything to do with me, so I had to get creative.”
“You hoodwinked me?”
She came back and sat on the bed. “Only a little. I just dragged out the process a bit. And trust me when I say that I didn’t expect us to fall into bed. It was just nice talking to you again. Spending time with you.”
I softened at the kind remark. “Way to ruin my angry face.”
“You should also know that your angry face is really, really attractive.”
I shifted my lips to the side. “I’ll need to work on it, then.”
“Impossible.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh no! You were going to make dinner, and then I…sidetracked us.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” She laughed. “I did make dinner, a nice chicken. And we’re both guilty of the sidetracking.”
She covered her mouth. “I am so sorry, Maggie.”
“Don’t be.” I ran my fingers through what had to be my sex hair. “Best consolation prize ever.”
Her concern melted into a lazy smile, and she leaned down and kissed me. “That’s very true.”
“I can pop it in the oven.” I slipped a hand up the back of her shirt. “Are you hungry?”
She looked down at me and nodded, her eyes dancing. “But not for anything to eat.”
“What are you hungry for?” I asked. She slid down the bed and showed me.
More than once.
I fell asleep somewhere before two that morning, exhausted, sated, and happy.
When my eyes fluttered open at three, she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Why are you so bleary eyed and slow this morning?” Berta asked over her giant latte. “You’re like a happy little sloth sitting on a couch.” I stared at the red mug enviously. I never had mastered the whole hot coffee in the summer thing. Best laid
plans and all.
“Not a ton of sleep last night,” I told her and attempted to suppress a smile. She was too good for that and zeroed in on it immediately.
“Why?” She rested her chin in her hand, bursting with curiosity. “Why would you say that you didn’t get a ton of sleep?” She pointed at me. “I heard about book club, so don’t try deflecting. I’ll see your deflection coming a mile away. I’m raising a seven-year-old.”
Someone had definitely had her caffeine today. Berta was like a dog with a bone, and I knew better than to try to keep something like last night from her. It would be impossible. “I had company.”
She sucked in air audibly and her mouth fell open. “You had Courtney company. I knew it. It was only a matter of time, really.” Then she sobered. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No, not at all, which is why we’re keeping it very light. She’s in town for a handful of months max.”
“And then?”
“And then nothing. I go about my life. Not getting involved in any drama. Been there. Done that. This is nice and neat and casual, and then it’s over.” Berta looked at me strangely. Her cup shielded the bottom part of her face. “What? What is that look?”
She shook her head. “Oh, nothing. I’m just wondering if you two have met yourselves.”
I went on the defensive. “I’m not the girl I used to be. Courtney and I don’t work in the grander scheme of life. We’re a math problem that will never add up.”
Berta passed me a dubious look. “If you say so.”
“We’re both on the same page.”
“Because you’re afraid of more.” She set her mug down like a judge leveling a gavel after a decision.
“I’m sorry?”
“You blame a lot of your initial trouble with Courtney on geography. But we both know that’s not the basis of the problem.” I opened my mouth to argue and she held up a hand. “Don’t get mad. Just hear me out.”
“Fine. I’m listening.” I gestured for her to go on.
“You love Tanner Peak, but it’s always been a security blanket for you. When you lost Clay, you clung to it even tighter, fearful of the rest of the world, and that meant Courtney. Because of that fear, you wound up hurt in the end, which only made you more fearful. It’s a vicious cycle of fear with you, Maggie.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” I said, laughing, trying to make light of the whole thing. It was certainly easier that way, because something about Berta’s theory had me uncomfortable.
She shrugged. “Laugh if you want, but I just spelled out your whole life for you.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
She leaned in, energized now. “Think about it, Maggie. If you somehow found a way to take a risk, do something scary that puts you outside of your comfort zone, trust me when I say that you could conquer the world. I’ve always believed that.”
I nodded, trying to wade through her theory and remain objective. Okay, so Berta had a valid point. I could admit that, as even now, I felt that ripple of fear at her very hypothesis of fear.
It was a vicious cycle!
I forced myself to move past it. “You now what, Berta? You don’t have to worry about the cycle because there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She shook her head, not accepting that answer. “Okay, then tell me this. Did she sleep over?”
“Absolutely not. Trust me. I have this under control.”
She stared at me knowingly, skepticism in her eyes. “If you say so.”
“I’m late!” Melanie announced and collapsed onto the sofa. “My eight a.m. appointment ran long. I have thirty minutes before I have to be back for my ten a.m., who, bless her heart, has dyed her hair pale blue in an attempt to cover the white.” Melanie seemed to enjoy this, which reminded me of her high school self.
“Don’t make fun of her,” I said. “That sounds like a hair emergency.”
“Well, bingo is tomorrow, so in her world, it is.” She glanced around. “Did I miss anything important?”
I turned to her. “Tim got in trouble at day camp for painting the other children again.”
“Good for him,” Melanie said.
I nodded. “Right? Painting people sounds fun. I don’t see the problem.”
Berta leaned in. “And Maggie slept with Courtney.”
“Oh yeah? Finally.” Melanie punctuated the word with a widening of her eyes.
“Finally?” I balked. “Finally?” Melanie shuffled through her bag and begrudgingly handed Berta a ten-dollar bill. “Whoa. What is that about?” I asked, pointing at the traitorous transaction. “You were betting on me? On if I would sleep with Courtney?”
Two pairs of innocent eyes turned my way. “No. Of course not,” Berta said. “We wouldn’t do that.”
“We were betting on when,” Melanie supplied.
“Well, that’s just perfect,” I grumbled and threw my hands up. Then a thought occurred to me. “Wait. I thought you were into her,” I said accusingly to Melanie. “All touchy feely.”
“She is movie-star beautiful,” Melanie said, “but she only notices you in any given room, so that was pretty much a dead end from the start. I was just trying to speed along the process. Jealousy works wonders, and there was ten dollars at stake.”
I let the meaning of that sentence wash over me in mystification. “Unbelievable.”
“Oh, don’t get too bent out of shape,” Melanie said. “You had sex last night.”
“Why, yes.” I grinned into my coffee cup. “Yes, I did.”
*
“We’re four days out, just to remind everyone,” I said to the ten Beringer employees gathered around the conference room table.
One of the joys of my hybrid career path was that I could chart my own course when planning my schedule. While I generally spent most of my workweek wearing my real estate hat, with Beringer’s hosting our annual open house in just a few days, I’d switched into event planning mode and was surprisingly good at it.
“Okay, after the Pick-Your-Own demonstration, each group of visitors will then move to the cooling room where Shelley will offer an explanation. Next, they take the hayride trip to the northern fields for a talk given by Byron on seasonal adjustments. Finally, they’ll stop and feed the goats. We’re switching the order from last year. Sammy, can you make sure you rotate the goats so we don’t make any sick from overfeeding?”
Sammy nodded. “Way ahead of you. Already have a schedule in place.”
I nodded. “Perfect.”
“What about the face painting?” asked one of the teenagers standing at the back of the room.
“Right. Great question. There’ll be two different stations set up for kids to get strawberries painted on their cheeks in front of the big house. Stephanie and Todd, I have you two scheduled to help facilitate.”
“What about adults?” Travis asked with hope in his eyes. “Can the adults get their faces painted?”
“You’re in luck. They can.”
“And there’s still free ice cream at the end?” he asked.
I relaxed into a smile, indulging him. “Yes, Travis. There will still be free ice cream with all the fixings at the end of the tour.”
“Yes!”
The room collectively chuckled at Travis. While very much the comedian, he had honestly shocked us all with his rise to leadership over the past few years. Everyone on the farm liked and respected him, which said a ton about his ability to manage others. He was knowledgeable, personable, and dedicated. It was clear to me who would take the reins and run the day-to-day operations on the farm once my father retired, and I was more than okay with that. We made a good team.
The weekend arrived before I knew it, and the rain that had been forecast missed Tanner Peak entirely. The Open House was framed with blue skies all around, and you couldn’t have wiped the smile of relief off my face. By midafternoon, the farm was bustling with families from near and far who’d come to check out the inner workings of Beringer’
s.
I’d just completed my third tour and swung back by the big house to pick up my fourth—two families with kids, a young couple, and Courtney Carrington wearing white shorts and a yellow sleeveless top.
“What in the world?” I asked, pulling her aside.
She smiled. “I want the official rundown. Is that allowed?”
“There’s not a rule, but,” I stared at her in amusement, “you know the rundown.”
“Well, I want to hear it again. I also heard a rumor that there are goats being fed somewhere, which I didn’t even know was a thing here.”
I laughed. “We added the goats three years ago. They’re a big hit.”
“And you didn’t send word? I’d have been on a plane like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“Well, now I know the trick. Follow me for goats,” I said, leading her back to the group.
The tours each lasted thirty minutes, and for my part, I did my best to keep the information interesting and accurate without being overly technical.
“So people still pick the strawberries?” one woman asked midway.
“Yes. In the midst of all the technological advances, human hands are still best for the fruit. That’s not to say we don’t use machines to make their job a little less strenuous physically. We do.”
I saw a hand go up on my left and turned to Courtney. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Is it true that when I purchase a carton of strawberries at the grocery store, the last pair of hands to touch a strawberry were the hands of the person who picked it?”
I suppressed a grin because I’d taught her that very fact when we were kids. She was the perfect audience plant for the tour. “Yes, that is true. You’re very smart.”
She placed a hand over her heart. “Thank you.”
I turned to the group. “Because of this fact, there is a lot of attention paid to properly educating farm workers on hygiene and food safety. Their job is incredibly important on our farm.”
The rest of my tour nodded in surprise at this little-known fact as we headed to the goat pens.
Strawberry Summer Page 25
