“Ava…fuck. Touch yourself. You gotta come, Boss.”
“You,” she panted, her clit aching.
“Dirty hands,” he muttered, squeezing her hips and thrusting deeper.
She reached between her legs with her clean hand, needing pressure against that aching spot as he filled her over and over.
He tugged a nipple as he bit down gently on the spot where her neck met her shoulder and she shot into orbit. He gripped her harder and thrust faster when he heard his name bouncing off the walls of his greenhouse. He shouted her name only a few moments later.
He pulled out almost immediately and turned her quickly to face him. He took in the sight of her, covered in streaks of mud from his hands. His mud. Then he bracketed her face with his still muddy hands and pulled her in for a hot, deep, sweet kiss.
When he finally let her go, she smiled up at him, her heart feeling strangely full. “So gardening, huh?” she asked.
He laughed and pulled her in to kiss the top of her head. “Yeah. Gardening.”
16
Parker grabbed paper towels and wiped his hands and Ava’s cheeks, then disposed of them and the condom in a nearby bucket. He pulled his pants up before going to one knee. He placed kisses up her thigh as he pulled her panties up and then grabbed the T-shirt. He also pulled that over her head and kissed her again, hard on the mouth, before saying, “Now, about lunch.”
They held hands—of all the sappy, weird things she’d never done with a guy before—as they wandered the greenhouse gathering spinach, tomatoes, and peppers.
“Salad?” she asked.
“Frittata.”
He led her out the back of the greenhouse, but she pulled to a stop outside the door. “Frittatas need eggs.”
“Very good, Boss.”
“And you don’t buy eggs from the store.”
“For the diner, I do,” he said. “The girls can’t quite keep up with that demand. But no, not for out here.”
“So we’re going to get the eggs. From your chickens?” This had to be the most bizarre date of her life.
“We are.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You have a chicken phobia?”
“I didn’t think I did,” she muttered.
“I’ll do the hard work,” he said with a wink.
“Which is?”
He thought about it. “There’s not really anything hard about it.”
“Uh-huh.” But she let him tug her across the yard to the wooden structure that she would have identified as the chicken coop even without being told. Since there were actual chickens surrounding it. There was an enclosed box that actually looked like a little house. It was even painted in the same light blue as his house. A wooden ramp led from the front door of the little house to a “yard” in front of it. It was mostly dirt with some sparse grass covering it. There were four chickens pecking at the ground. And one rooster. Ava’s steps stuttered, but the entire thing, yard and house, was surrounded with a high wire fence and topped with a pitched roof.
“My mom built the coop,” Parker said as they neared the door that would lead into the yard. He chuckled. “She thinks it’s cute. I don’t think the chickens care.”
The light blue walls, white trim, and, now that she was close enough to study it and not stare at the rooster, the white shutters on either side of the tiny windows, were all pretty cute.
But it was still a chicken coop.
Parker opened the large door that led into the enclosure, but Ava hung back. He looked at her. “You okay?”
She was frowning at the rooster. Who was now looking directly at her. “You can go in without me, right?”
“I could. But what would be the fun in that?” He tugged on her hand and Ava, never one to back down from a challenge, stepped through the door.
But she kept her eye on the male with feathers.
Parker strode confidently toward the coop. “Let’s see what we’ve got this afternoon.”
She watched him walk through the chickens who just scattered as he passed. She followed carefully. He rounded the one side of the coop and lifted a wooden hatch.
“Come here.” He motioned her forward.
Ava stepped toward him, but a chicken got in her way and she bumped it with her foot. The chicken squawked and flapped her wings and Ava let out a little scream. And the rooster started for her.
Roosters didn’t like it when their hens got riled up.
Ava sucked in a quick breath and lifted her foot, prepared to roll him over. She had no idea how that was actually going to work, but she was grateful for the boots now. But the bit she’d read about showing him who was in charge flashed through her mind. At the last minute she frowned and bent, scooping him up in her arms and tucking him against her side snugly. He squawked and tried to flap his wings, but she just kept him tucked in tight and ignored him as she walked toward where Parker was standing with his eyes wide and his mouth open.
“What did you want to show me?” she asked as she joined Parker at the side of the coop.
His eyes were on the rooster that had settled down surprisingly quickly. Though she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She had no idea what to think or expect in any rooster situation.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
She noted that he was holding an egg in each hand. She peered into the side of the coop he’d opened. There was a line of boxes, each with what looked like straw at the bottom. Two were empty, one had a chicken sitting in it, and two others had eggs cradled in the straw.
“This is where they lay the eggs?”
“Nesting boxes,” Parker said absently. “What are you doing with my rooster?”
Ava glanced down at the bird under her arm. “Showing him who’s boss.”
Parker looked from the rooster up at her. “How did you know how to do that?”
“I read about it.”
“You read about roosters?” He seemed completely baffled by that. “Why? When?”
“While you napped,” she said. “After I heard him crowing when I went out to get my phone from the truck.”
“You looked up how to boss a rooster around?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much.”
There was a pause, then Parker burst into laughter. Then he reached for her, on the rooster-less side, and pulled her into a half hug.
“What?” she asked against his chest, not really able to hug him back.
“Just…thank you for always being you,” he said. “You are exactly who you seem to be. Even in the middle of a farm for the first time in your life, wearing work boots and very little else.” His hand skimmed down her back to her butt. “You look at a situation and just do what needs to be done.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for kicking ass, all the fucking time.”
She felt her heart expand and had a hard time taking a deep breath for a second. She gave the rooster a little squeeze, suddenly glad that he’d gone on the attack. Crazy as that was.
“Also, thanks for making egg gathering incredibly sexy,” Parker said, letting her go.
She sniffed a little, composing herself as he stepped away. The sniff brought in the smell of the coop even stronger and she grimaced. “Sexy, huh?”
“I’d put you up against this coop and gladly show you, but I do think Ras would have a problem with that.” Parker reached for the other eggs in the nesting boxes, then shut the hatch.
“Ras?” Ava asked.
He pointed at the rooster. “Rasputin.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “This rooster is named Rasputin?”
“My mom named him.”
“So, he’s evil.” She looked down at him. He was, actually, just sitting on her hip as if perfectly fine being there.
“My mom might have had a run-in with him.” Parker seemed to be mulling that over. “I never really asked her why she named him that.”
“She never mentioned that he was an attack rooster?”
Parker chuckled. “She’s kind of like you. She just takes
care of stuff. She wouldn’t have mentioned that.” He looked back at the coop. “She built this herself. Just did it. Didn’t ask for input, or permission, just did it. One day I came home and the frame was up.”
Ava liked his mom already. “And that was fine with you?”
He shrugged. “Her taking care of the chickens a lot of the time helps me out. It’s time I don’t have to spend cleaning or repairing the coop. I throw some seed out and gather eggs two or three times a day. It’s pretty low-key.”
“I’m glad someone’s helping you with stuff,” Ava said. “You work hard.” He really did.
“Well, thanks.” Parker seemed pleased with her comment. “But this is my day off. And I don’t want to spend any more of it in a chicken coop. And I don’t want to spend much more of it with you in clothes.”
It was just that easy for him to get her body humming.
She looked down at the rooster. She’d read about how to pick him up, but the article hadn’t talked about putting him back down. She supposed she’d just set him on the ground and hope to get out of the pen before he decided she’d wounded his male ego.
But when she set him down, he just wandered off, pecking randomly at the ground.
“All males are just putty in your hands, huh?” Parker asked, holding the door open for her. He had the five eggs in the pocket he’d created by holding up the bottom of his shirt. That exposed a strip of skin over hard abs, and Ava was shocked to find herself wanting to lick him right there. Right now. In a chicken coop.
Instead, she stepped through the door and started for the house. She really needed to not be smelling barnyard before she licked anything.
Parker showed her how to wash the eggs in the utility sink in the corner of the laundry room, then he stored them in the fridge, threw her over his shoulder, and took her upstairs to the shower. Where they had hot, slippery sex before washing each other from head to toe.
By the time they made it back downstairs to the kitchen, Ava was hungry, but incredibly relaxed and…happy. It was a simple word that people used all the time without thinking, but today it had a new meaning for her. She was as out of her element as she’d ever been, spending time in kitchens, and greenhouses, and chicken coops with a man who rattled her, who didn’t care that she was a CEO worth billions, who liked her in work boots as much or more than he did in heels. And she was happy.
“You want to help me in the kitchen?” Parker asked. He was shirtless but had a clean pair of jeans sitting low on his hips.
Ava took a seat on one of the high stools across the counter that separated his enormous kitchen from the living room that was filled with casual furniture. He had two sofas, a recliner, and a rocking chair in the corner, along with a huge coffee table that she could imagine covered with snacks, mugs and bottles, while a game played on the big screen TV suspended over the stone hearth fireplace.
“I can honestly tell you that I would love to sit right here and just watch you cook for me,” she said.
He gave her a grin. “Good thing cooking is my third favorite thing to do with you.”
“I have a really good idea about number one,” she said. Her body was still tingling from the things he’d done to it in the shower. She never would have guessed a guy like Parker would have a mesh body puff. And she would have never guessed the things he could do with it. She shifted on the stool and cleared her throat, watching Parker bend to retrieve ingredients from the fridge. Hot, naked skin, and hard, bunching muscles, and denim that molded deliciously to his body, and she couldn’t remember what she’d been about to ask him.
“Number one has several subsets,” he said, straightening with his arms full of food and crossing to the center island. “But yeah, it’s probably pretty obvious.”
“So what’s number two?” she asked.
He looked up from positioning the vegetables on the cutting board. “Talking.”
For some reason that made her throat tighten. “Oh.”
He gave her a nod. “Yeah. Oh.” He grabbed a knife and chopped the top of the pepper off. “I’m as surprised as you.”
She laughed. “We probably shouldn’t be. We have a lot in common.”
He smiled, continuing to chop. “Take away your private jet and we’re practically the same person.”
She chuckled. Absently, she picked up the pencil lying by a notebook and stack of junk mail. She knew that he knew they did have a lot in common. They were both hyper-organized, liked to get their way, and ran their businesses with a firm but purposeful plan. They also had a similar sense of humor and just seemed to get one another.
But he also wanted her to be more a part of his world. That still made her heart flip. And it made her think about him in her world too. “You know, speaking of that private jet,” she said, fiddling with the pencil. “I was thinking…what would you think about going to New York with me?”
She heard the chopping stop and she glanced up.
Parker had a hand braced on the island and was studying her.
“Parker?”
“What would we do?”
She couldn’t help it—she blushed. Because she had an amazing, six-nozzle shower in her apartment and she’d already had some thoughts about that shower and this man.
His grin was slow and made deep-down-oh-yeah muscles clench. “Besides that, Boss. Because yeah…we’re going to do that no matter where we are.”
Now he was reading her mind. Or her expressions, at least. She blew out a breath. “Dinner, a show, sightseeing, whatever you want. I just thought—” It had sounded so effortless and sweet from him, but she had never, ever said something romantic or sentimental to a man before.
“You just thought what?” he prompted.
His voice was low and even from across the few feet and two countertops that separated them, she felt like he was touching her.
“You want to see me in blue jeans again. I want to see you in a shirt and tie.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding slowly. “You want to see me in your world.”
She started to answer, then pressed her lips together and thought about her words. She decided to go ahead though. “I want to see how we can maybe…be together…in both worlds.”
He took a long breath and Ava braced for him to say, I want nothing to do with your world or we’re not together. But that wasn’t what he said.
“Dammit, woman, I need food at some point today.”
She frowned. “I don’t mean we should go to New York today. And there’s food there. Lots of it. Great food, as a matter of fact. Some of the best in the world.”
“And I look forward to trying a bunch of it,” he said. “But if you keep saying things like that, I’m never going to get around to eating today. At least not food.”
“I don’t—” But then she did understand. Her wanting him to come to New York, into her world turned him on. She felt her body heat. She loved that she’d had that effect. “Okay, you finish cooking and then we can talk about New York.”
“Naked,” Parker said.
“What?”
“We can talk about New York while we’re naked.” He started cracking eggs and whisking.
“Okay.” She smiled. “We can talk about New York while we’re naked.”
He continued with the meal preparation, and Ava found herself watching his hands and his shoulders and arm muscles bunching as he mixed and diced and sautéed. And thinking that they didn’t really need food that much.
To distract herself, she decided to make a to-do list. One of her favorite things in the world. She borrowed the notebook in Parker’s stack of stuff on the counter and started writing. She should call her assistant so Maggie could get them show tickets and a dinner reservation and get the jet ready. It would be so much fun to take Parker out and spoil him a little. He worked hard with not much time off. He not only cooked for the entire town for more than twelve hours a day, but he also took care of chickens and a whole greenhouse and…goats. She hadn’t even met the goats ye
t. Ava added “research goats” to her list. Then she turned the page. Maybe Maggie could pull together a quick meeting on the Ashton merger. It would be easier to go over the glitches in person. She’d just finished her notation on some things she wanted to check in the file, when she noticed a list and some notes on the next page. She assumed it was Parker’s list.
Chicken, sweet onions, apples. Try sweet and savory crust. Cinnamon? Thyme? Sugar? Light. More sweet.
She studied it. It was kind of a grocery list. But not really.
Chicken and apples? She flipped the page.
Pork and peaches. Tenderloin? Increase sugar. Less lime. Try lemon.
The next page had a list that included beef and cherries.
“Fruit and meat pies?”
He glanced over from the stove. “What?”
She held up the notebook. “Are these new recipe ideas?”
He opened his mouth, then shook his head and turned to remove the cast-iron skillet from the oven. He set it on top of the stove and then tossed the oven mitt to the side. “That’s nothing,” he finally said.
“Really? Because they look like the starts to recipes,” Ava said.
“Just some things that were going through my mind.” He leaned against the counter, bracing his hands beside his hips.
But Ava focused. “So they are recipes.”
“Kind of.”
“For the pie shop?” she asked. She looked down. “Because this is really amazing.”
He didn’t say anything and when she glanced up again, he was frowning. “I don’t know that they’re amazing.”
“They are,” she said, her enthusiasm growing as she thought about it. “I mean, you’re taking the classic pies that we serve—apple, cherry, and peach—from sweet to savory. This is a really great idea for expanding the menu. Still pie, still our classics, but something new. These could be lunch additions. And they wouldn’t compete with the diner.” Ava was vaguely aware that she was talking faster as she went along, but she felt her excitement building and couldn’t stop. “You can keep the diner menu as is, all the comforting, familiar stuff everyone wants most of the time. But when someone is in an adventurous mood, ready to try something new, they can just come next door.” She set the notebook down and scooted forward on her stool. “It’s a chance for you to keep giving everyone what they need from the diner, but give in to some of that creativity that you can’t show off there. This would be good for you too.” She grinned at him. “This is a great way to start showing them more of what you can do. The diner can be tried and true, the pie shop can be new and creative.”
High Heels and Haystacks: Billionaires in Blue Jeans, book two Page 24
