Dirty Farmer (The Dirty Suburbs Book 6)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  I wave them off. "I know who took the car. Freaking Trevor, my immature, small-dicked ex-boyfriend. The car is in his name and he's the one making the payments so I guess he can do whatever he wants with it."

  Faith narrows her eyes. "So, it isn't your car?"

  "Technically, it is. He bought it for me." I feel defensive all of a sudden.

  Grace's fists sit on her hips. "I don't care whose car it is technically. Whose car is it, legally?"

  I swallow hard. I see her point. "Uh..."

  Her facial expression slowly morphs from concern to something else. Indignation, maybe.

  "So, you’re telling me that you left Philadelphia in a stolen car? You showed up at my house in that stolen car? You parked that stolen car in my driveway for four days?" Her face is red with anger and her voice is tight from trying to suppress it.

  Faith steps in between us. "Gracie, you’re gonna need to calm down."

  Grace shoots her a look. "What if the police had shown up? My baby lives here. What if they had tried to arrest me? What would have happened to Sebastian?"

  "You're being a touch melodramatic, hun." Faith rests a hand on our sister's shoulder.

  She shrugs out of Faith’s reach. "I'm not being melodramatic." Her eyes pin me in place. "I don't even know you."

  That one sentence...That one sentence...

  Grace spins on her heel and stomps out of the room. My heart cracks open and tears pour down my face. My chest heaves and ugly-cry sounds bellow past my lips. I bury my face in my hands.

  My whole life, I've heard about these two sisters I have. I've wondered about them. I've imagined what their lives were like. I pictured being with them. Now, I'm finally here with them and I'm fucking up hardcore. Why can't I ever just fit in? Why am I always a burden on the people I love the most? It was ridiculous of me to think that I could just show up here and they'd embrace me with open arms, like I'm one of them. My mother broke up their parents' marriage. How could I expect them to just take me in?

  Faith drops to her knees in front of me and wraps her arms around my shaking back. "Don't cry," she whispers. "It's not good for the baby."

  I nod, trying to hold myself together.

  "I don't know what's gotten into Gracie. She isn't usually like this. I'd bet that she and Daniel had another fight."

  Daniel. That's Grace's husband. From what I understand, they got separated a few months ago and it really doesn't look like they're getting back together. But they have a child to look after so every time Daniel comes to pick Sebastian up, they fight.

  Faith stands and turns toward the stairs. "I'm gonna go talk to her. Knowing her, she already feels bad about the things she said to you."

  I give her a weak smile and watch as she heads to Grace's bedroom.

  Fuck, Lily. You just don't fit in anywhere, do you?

  I've already outstayed my welcome. And I clearly have nowhere to go and no money to get there. Maybe I should just accept defeat and call my mom to come pick me up. I reach into my satchel for my phone. Oh right, Trevor disconnected my phone. With a heavy breath, I push it back into my bag. My fingers brush up against a piece of paper. I pull it out and unfold it.

  My eyes scan the words on the crumpled page. Live-In Caregiver Wanted. Call 555 7878.

  Maybe...maybe this is just the opportunity I need.

  I grab the landline off of the table and punch in the number. I hold my breath as it rings.

  Chapter 9

  Lily

  I hold my satchel over my head for shelter but it's useless. The rain is coming down too hard. My mascara burns my eyes and I really need to pee again. Thank god I can't see my reflection right now because I know my hair is a fucking mess.

  I didn't think to check the weather forecast before I took off on foot to this interview. Why would I? The sun was high and promising when I left Grace's house and I was just so hasty to get out of there. So while Faith went off to get Grace to calm down, I snuck out.

  I didn't even Google the address. I just left. I figured that Reyfield isn't a big town and there was no way to get lost. Boy, was I wrong. Now, I'm soaked to the bone and god knows how late I am as I amble down the dirt path toward the 1930s-style farmhouse that seems to be buried a whole mile off of the main road. Good thing I wore my ballet flats because even though my feet are drowning in them, at least I don't run the risk of twisting my ankle in the mud the way I would had I been wearing heels.

  I climb the stairs and knock on the screen door before hunching over to try and wring some of the water out of the drenched box pleats of my knee-length skirt. I look up when I hear the door creak open.

  Jakob's broad shoulders and his ominous frown fill the doorframe.

  Chapter 10

  Jakob

  There's a slight shiver to her as I hand off a cup of tea to her and sink into the chair opposite hers.

  "Thank you," she whispers as her pale pink mouth clasps around the lip of the cup. Why I find that simple act erotic is beyond me. I think I may be losing my mind.

  But how can a man stay sane when this maddening, beautiful, little woman is sitting in front of him? There she is, with my flannel shirt wrapped around her, my jogging pants swallowing up her legs, damp ringlets falling down her back, face now bare of the makeup that was dripping off her smooth skin when she walked in completely drenched from the rain.

  Of all the people that could have shown up for this job interview, it had to be Little Miss Sunshine.

  I can't even keep my mind in check around her. How am I supposed to have her in my house every day, living with me, taking care of my grandmother?

  Her leg bounces non-stop and she looks downright uncomfortable. But I know she’s not intimidated by me. That much has been clear since the morning that she opened Grace’s front door. Anyway, it’s not my job to figure out what’s wrong with her. I just need to put an end to this interview and get her out of here before I make a stupid decision.

  Like giving her this job.

  I clear my throat as my eyes settle on her. "You know I can't hire you, right?"

  She narrows her eyes, defiantly. "Why?"

  "You were late to the interview," I state matter-of-factly. "That really doesn't set a good precedent. I need to know that the person who will be taking care of my grandmother will take her job seriously."

  She squirms about in the vintage armchair she's sitting in. "I will take the job seriously. I promise. I just had a hard time getting here. That's all. I got lost a bunch of times. Then it started raining. And –"

  "I'm sorry, Lily. I have a no tolerance policy for tardiness. It's not personal. It's just the way I run things around here." But even as I say it, I feel like the world's biggest asshole.

  Now, her thigh-twitching has intensified. She twists her hands around in her lap. It's gotten to the point where it's distracting.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I snap, gesturing to her bouncing knee.

  She gives me a sheepish grin, her eyes full of amusement. "I really need to pee," she whispers. Then she sucks in her bottom lip, biting back her smile.

  I press my eyes closed and take a moment to breathe. This girl...

  "Bathroom is straight down the hall. First door on your right." I point a thumb over my shoulder.

  She gets up and scurries down the hallway like her bladder is about to give way. And I find myself smiling. The girl is silly and charming in this unintentional way. I can't allow her to keep getting under my skin and throwing off my defences.

  No.

  I'm not hiring her.

  I hear a horrendous retching sound in the distance. Is she vomiting? Nah, can’t be. I must be imagining things.

  When she hurries back into the room a few minutes later, I'm standing by the front door, watching the rain batter the cucumber fields I worked on this morning. Her sweet, sweet smell trails in behind her.

  "I’ll drive you back to Grace's house," I tell her.

  Her eyebrows pinch together. "What about the
interview?"

  I scrub my fingers along my beard. "I told you –- I can't hire you. You were late."

  Her face screws up like she thinks I'm crazy. "But I had good reasons," she protests.

  "I'm sorry," I say as I hold the door open for her.

  She pins me with the most hateful stare I've ever seen. "You're serious?"

  I nod wordlessly.

  After another long moment of glaring, she snatches her purse and the plastic bag of wet clothes stashed at the foot of the chair where she was sitting. She storms past me, throwing another caustic look my way. "You are unbelievable," she mutters.

  My heart twists around in my chest as I lead the way to my truck, sheltered under the slanted roof extending from the farmhouse. I open the door and she climbs in, making sure to fold her arms across her chest and pout like an angry child. I just want to pinch that jutted-out lip between my fingers.

  She's quiet as I drive her across town, her anger and her sweet scent filling the cabin of the truck. She doesn't look at me. Her eyes stay glued to the road as the windshield wipers fling water this way and that.

  I'm probably being too hard on her. I should probably give her a chance. That's what Mini would say. But what does Mini know about managing workers? She doesn’t understand that people interpret your kindness for weakness and then get comfortable walking all over you. I have to stay tough if I'm going to remain in control.

  The rain has let up by the time I guide the truck to the curb just outside of Grace's house. Lily's eyes fall to her lap where she holds her wet outfit and her purse. "Thanks for the lift," she says quietly.

  "You're welcome," I say, determined to hold onto my resolve.

  "And thanks for loaning me these dry clothes," she pinches the hem of my shirt that she's wearing. I like seeing her in it. I wouldn't mind seeing her in that shirt on a Sunday morning, standing at the stove, cooking me eggs and ham for breakfast. I quickly push the thought away. Not gonna happen, buddy. "I'll wash it and get it back to you later this week." A single tear courses down her cheek.

  Ah, seriously? Tears?

  "Lily..."

  She waves me off. "No, no. I'm sorry. Really. I'm an emotional disaster these days." She wears a whisper of a smile even through her tears.

  It yanks on my heartstrings.

  I grunt as my walls come tumbling down. "Okay, okay," I grouse. "I'll hire you."

  Her head snaps to me and a hopeful expression dances in her eyes. "You'll hire me?"

  "Yes." I can't help but smile at the jubilation on her face. "I'll hire you."

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She hurls her body across the console and wraps her arms around my neck.

  Gooseflesh goes scattering across my skin as her warm sugary scent spills into my lungs. Blood instantly rushes to my cock and my arms wrap themselves around her back.

  This girl has me going soft.

  "Okay. Enough," I laugh as I brace her by the shoulders and push her back.

  "Sorry," she grins, composing herself.

  I adopt a stern face. "But you have to be on time."

  She nods enthusiastically. "I will. I promise."

  I gesture to the bag of clothes sitting in her lap. "And those Kim Kardashian outfits aren't gonna cut it out there on the farm."

  Her eyebrows rise up as she lowers her head and snickers into her palm.

  "What's so funny?"

  "I'm just surprised you know who Kim Kardashian is."

  I blow out a breath. "Lily – this is serious." She straightens up immediately and she purses her lips to keep from smiling. "Your main job will be entertaining my grandmother," I continue, "but every now and then, I'll need a hand with farm-related work. Harvesting, collecting eggs, watering plants."

  "Understood," she says excitedly. "When do I start?"

  "Tomorrow. Seven a.m., sharp."

  "I'll be there at six forty-five. I don't care if I have to start walking tonight."

  "And it's a live-in position. So you'll be staying with me – with us – on the farm six days a week. You'll leave on Saturday night and be back first thing on Monday morning."

  She nods. "Sure thing."

  Our eyes hold for a while. There's fire in the hollow of my stomach. I wonder if she feels that, too.

  "Thank you, Jakob. Really."

  I just nod because there's a knot in my throat. I can't believe I just hired the woman who's putting up one hell of a battle against my defences without even intending to.

  With that, she climbs out of my truck and practically skips up the walkway. When she gets to the trashcan on the side of the house, she makes a big show of lifting the cover and tossing her soiled clothes inside.

  The message is loud and clear. No more Kim Kardashian outfits.

  I shake my head as I fire up the engine and pull away from this crazy, beautiful woman.

  Chapter 11

  Lily

  Faith drops me off at Jakob's farmhouse at 6:45 sharp which is no easy feat because she isn't too fond of having to wake up an hour before absolutely necessary for her job.

  Clad in black jeans and a plain white v-neck under a hoodie zipped up just enough to conceal my burgeoning baby bump, I knock on the front door. It takes a minute for anyone to answer, so I lean close, peering through the screen door. I gasp when Jakob comes into view, torso ripped and rippling as he shrugs into a shirt. He's working on the buttons as he tears the door open.

  "H-hi," I stutter, my eyes greedily lapping up every bit of exposed flesh before it disappears from view.

  "You're on time," he says in an animated lilt.

  "I'm early," I correct him as he holds the door open and I step inside.

  He tries to fight a smile but I see it there, playing on his mouth. "You're early," he concedes. He gestures for me to continue ahead of him, down the hall into the kitchen.

  I stifle down a laugh as I take in the chicken and rooster designs on the wallpaper and the old-fashioned kitchen set. It's like a page straight out of Country Living Magazine circa 1962. I half-expect him to throw on an apron, open the white enamel oven and pull out an apple pie.

  Instead, he sits me down at the table. "Have you had breakfast?"

  "Yes," I lie even as I clench my stomach to silence the growls. I've been very careful about what I eat at Grace's ever since Fruit-Loops-gate. Don't get me wrong; she sets three square meals on the table for me each day and she's constantly checking to make sure that I'm having healthy snacks for the baby's sake, but I try not to eat much more than she offers me because as broke as I am, I can't afford to pitch in for food and I don't quite know her financial situation. She's a stay-at-home mom who's separated from her husband so I imagine that she isn't exactly rolling in moolah.

  "Are you sure?" Jakob asks, sitting down with a half-empty cup of coffee. "Can I get you anything else?"

  I shake my head. "No. I'm fine."

  "Okay," he mutters rubbing his hands together. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. We always have fresh bread and cheese. And I bring in fresh-picked fruit from the orchards throughout the day.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “So, I should have asked you these questions during the interview, but you know how that went."

  My head bobs at the memory.

  He stretches his arms out in front of him, folding back one sleeve and then the next. His toned forearms are bronzed from the sun and covered in a light dusting of golden hairs. I find that insanely masculine and a bit distracting. “First off, what were you doing for a living before you came to Reyfield?"

  My eyes snap away from his arms and settle on his face. Equally masculine and distracting. Oh my. I clear my throat. “I was actually a stylist intern at an online fashion blog, Hectic."

  Jakob looks at me with a judgmental stare. I giggle at his reaction.

  "Yeah – I don't expect to find much work in that field here in the suburbs. I still haven't even been able to locate a store where I can buy the new issue of Marie Claire."

/>   Lips twitching slightly, he asks. "Do you have any experience working with the elderly?"

  "Uh..." I don't want to lie flat-out so I decide to embellish my resume a bit (read: a lot) and interpret my work experience very liberally. "Well, the blog did a senior style edition a few months ago. I spent like three days hanging out with little old ladies and having them fitted for their photo shoots."