Colton Farms

by M. E. Parker

  My Dad and I built it together when I was fifteen. It was clean and stocked with food. Sarah had made sure of it before she and Ted left. I’d planned to spend a couple of days there fishing during the week. The thing was tiny—one bed, a small living space and kitchen, and a single bathroom with a stand-up shower. It was bare bones, no heat or air. But it was comfortable enough for a couple of days of fishing. She would, without a doubt, hate it. Something about making her ‘rough it’ for one night gave me some small amount of satisfaction.

  After we passed the drive to the main house, I turned down the dirt road leading to the cabin, I heard Claire take a deep breath and let it out. “Jack, I’m sorry. You must think I’m awful. It’s just about my Dad, you don’t know everything. But you’re right for thinking what you do. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You are opening your home to me and here I am acting like an ungrateful bitch, I’m sorry, and I do appreciate your help even if I haven’t acted like it. It was just a lot tonight—everything with my dad and Jonathan.”

  I interrupted her. “Claire, you don’t have to explain anything to me. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” Now I was having second thoughts about bringing her to the cabin. She has had a load of shit fall on her today and even if she brought some of it on herself, I shouldn’t be trying to make things harder for her. She had enough on her plate. I considered turning the truck around and driving back to the house, but I didn’t want her to think I was a complete nutcase.

  Right before we pulled up the cabin, I heard her stomach growl. Then I thought about her practically licking that little plate clean after she had a slice of pie. I wondered if that was all she ate today. I wanted to kick myself for not ordering her dinner and making her eat it.

  When I pulled up to the cabin, I smiled at her, “Here we are. Home sweet home.” I left the headlights from Ted’s old truck shining on the little cabin, so she could take a good look at. I wanted to watch her reaction. I expected at the very least, a grimace or an eye roll or maybe even a look of fear in her eyes, but her face lit up like it was Christmas morning. With a big smile, she gushed, “Oh Jack, it’s so cute. I’ve never been in a log cabin before. It looks just like something out of a storybook.”

  Okay. That was not the reaction I was expecting. I hopped out of the truck and ran around to help her out, but before I could get to her, she had jumped out. Right into a mud puddle. I looked down at her Gucci boots that were now covered in mud up to the ankles. She looked down. I looked back up to her eyes expecting to see them filled with tears. But they weren’t, she was grinning at me.

  “I’m so sorry Claire. This old driveway needs to be re-graveled, there are mud puddles everywhere. I was trying to get to you in time.” She just shrugged like it was no big deal.

  She continued to smile up at me, “Don’t worry about it. They’re just boots. This is a farm, right? Farms have mud. All part of the experience.” With that, she patted me on the arm. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing as I shook my head. She laughed with me.

  I grabbed her suitcase out of the truck, “Come on, let’s get you inside.” I watched her walk up the steps to the cabin porch and then I watched her bend over to unzip her boots to take them off. I was frozen for a moment. I couldn’t figure out what to make of this woman. I couldn’t decide whether to love her for not caring that she just ruined a two-thousand-dollar pair of boots or to hate her for not caring that she just ruined a two-thousand-dollar pair of boots. But when she looked back at me, still bent over with her perfect little ass sticking up in the air and smiled again, I knew I wanted her. I wanted her more than anything I had wanted in a very long time.

  She giggled, “Enjoying the view, farm boy?” I ran up the stairs to the porch towards her, “As a matter of fact, I am,” I laughed and then I smacked her on the ass.

  She let out a little scream and stood upright, “Oh no! You did not just do that,” she said as she laughed and playfully pushed me across the porch.

  I lifted up both hands mocking a defensive stance, “Can you blame me? It was just right there, and you practically dared me to do it.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Are you going to let me in or what?”

  What was I doing? I was flirting with her. I mean I was full on flirting. I shouldn’t have done it. The girl was trouble. But I couldn’t help it. It was like I had no control. Maybe I could just have her for one night. Maybe one night would be enough. Somehow, I doubted it though.

  Chapter Four—Claire

  There I was standing on the front porch of a little log cabin in the middle of the woods with a man I barely knew. I tried to regulate my breathing. Something about the man left me breathless as I looked at him standing a few feet away grinning from ear to ear. That’s something I could get used to. Seeing him smile at me. I could see a glint of the gold flecks sparkling in his emerald colored eyes as his laughter echoed across the porch. His sandy brown hair was a mess. I watched it ripple as a light wind blew through it. His jaw line was rigid like the rest of his body, but as soon as his smile fully revealed itself, the most impossibly adorable dimples appeared.

  I should have been worried that I was alone in a strange place without a dime to my name, dependent on a stranger. I should have been worried that my father had just cut me off today, that I had no clue how I’d even make to the airport in Nashville. I should have been worried that he had demanded that I come home to face a career and a fiancé that I didn’t want. I should have been worried that my best friend was fucking my boyfriend. But none of that seemed to bother me right then. Right then, what I was most worried about was the man standing in front of me. What did he think of me? Did he feel what I was feeling? There was an undeniable chemistry between us. I shouldn’t want this after everything had I just been through, but the butterflies in my stomach were telling me something very different.

  As I was waiting for him to unlock the door, I noticed the roof line of a very large structure to the east of the cabin. I couldn’t tell what it was, a house maybe—a very large one, or maybe a lodge? “Jack, what’s that place over there?” I pointed in the direction of the massive roof.

  “That’s—uh, that’s the main house.”

  “Who lives there?” He was acting odd, like I’d asked a personal question—one that he didn’t want to answer.

  “Belongs to the owner.”

  I smiled at him and he smiled back and asked, “The owner of the farm?”

  “Yes.” All I got was the one-word answer, obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it.

  I couldn’t help but look down at his ass as he unlocked the door. It was probably the best ass I had ever seen, and the way his faded jeans hugged it perfectly made me want to reach down and touch it, but I stopped myself. I took a step closer and I was overcome again with his scent, it was woodsy but clean.

  Nothing about him added up. I could tell the jeans he wore had faded from washing, they were not bought that way. They had a hole in the knee, but it was clearly from wear, not strategically placed like the ripped jeans you’d find in department stores. They hugged his thighs just enough to see the pure muscle behind them and fell atop brown boots that were leather and worn in just the right way—they didn’t look like the shiny ones I’d seen on the men in Nashville.

  But the white dress shirt he was wearing with sleeves rolled up to expose his muscular forearms looked pressed, like it had just come from the dry cleaners. And the watch he wore, it was expensive. Nothing like that outrageously expensive one I had bought for Jonathan, but it was high quality, one that would last forever, one like I would buy for myself. But it was doubtful that a farm hand could afford a watch like that. Was it a gift? Did he have a girlfriend? Why did the thought of him having a girlfriend make my stomach turn?

  Jack opened the door and reached in and flipped the light and held the door open for me. “Come on in.” I walked in front of him and noticed the unfinished wood floors beneath my sock feet. I quickly scanned the place. It wasn’t decorated. Ther
e was a large stone fireplace and I watched as Jack immediately walked towards it and bend down to start a fire that was already built and waiting. “There’s no heat—it’s kind of cool in here, but the fire will warm it up in no time.” He looked at me with a smile that contained a hint of apology.

  “Your place is charming, Jack.” I said as I ran my hand along the soft old leather couch sitting in front of the fireplace.

  He laughed. “Yeah, well, I would offer to give you a tour, but you can pretty much see the whole place from where you’re standing.” I smiled at him and he kept talking. “The kitchen is there to your left and the bedroom is through that door right there. The bathroom is through the bedroom. You can stay in there tonight.” I was listening to him, but I couldn’t help but make my way to the back wall of the cabin, which was glass from ceiling to floor. I couldn’t see outside because it was so dark. Jack walked up behind me and flipped a switch on the wall beside me.

  Light immediately cascaded away from the cabin turning the darkness into light. There was a small stone patio with two rocking chairs. But past the porch was the most amazing view I had ever seen, even though it was shrouded in darkness. There was a beautifully serene lake backing up to the property. “Wow, you’re lucky Jack, I bet it’s amazing to wake up every morning to this view. It must be so peaceful.” I turned to look at him. His eyes looked down at me as I tried to imagine what was going through his mind. I think it was a mixture of confusion and need. He couldn’t decide if I had meant what I said.

  But I meant what I said. I had never seen anything like it. My father was the least outdoorsy person on the face of the earth. Growing up in the suburbs of Boston, there was not much nature to behold and his idea of spending time in the great outdoors was accepting an invitation once a year to spend the weekend on his business partner’s yacht. I always dreamed of him bringing me to a place like this when I was a kid. I imagined him taking me fishing or for a ride in a canoe and us sitting next to a campfire roasting marshmallows.

  I looked up a Jack. “I mean it, this place is incredible.” He laughed and shook his head.

  “You are surprising Claire. So, tell me what you need.”

  I looked at him confused, “Huh?”

  “You’ve had a hell of a day today. I’ve had a few of those. I know at the end of one of those days, I like to try to clear my head, relax, forget about things for the night, and start fresh in the morning. Things always look better in the morning. So, tell me what you need. How can I help you relax?”

  I felt heat rising to my cheeks. Did he really just offer to help me relax? Did he ask what I needed? I needed his mouth on mine. I needed his hands on me. I needed to run my fingers through his hair and feel his whispers in my ear and his tongue on my neck. Oh god, I needed to snap out of it.

  I cleared my throat. “So, what do you do here to relax?”

  He smirked at me. “Well, I usually like to go fishing or read a good book. But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

  I walked over to the small bookshelf on the opposite side of the wall. It was mostly filled with classics that appeared to be well read. I ran my finger over the spine of ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Fin.’

  I looked up at him with a smile feeling a blush come over my cheeks, “You surprise me too Jack. What kind of relaxing did you have in mind?”

  He winked at me. “Nothing as sorted as what you’re thinking. Something to drink or eat, a shower maybe?”

  I laughed, “Actually, all three of those things sound great.”

  He smiled, “Good. You shower. I’ll make us something to eat. Then we’ll drink.”

  “I hope you have something stronger than coffee.”

  “Come on, I’ll get you some clean towels.”

  He grabbed my suitcase and I followed him into the tiny bedroom and he put my suitcase on the bed. I watched him walk towards the bathroom and I ran my hand over the beautiful blue and white quilt on the antique iron bed. It was cotton, but it had been washed so many times, it felt like silk. “This is beautiful, is it handmade?”

  He looked back at me touching the bed. “Yep. My mama made it.”

  “Wow, she’s very talented, does she sell them?”

  “She and my father passed away when I was sixteen.”

  I cringed. I knew what it felt like to lose a parent, I couldn’t imagine losing both at once. I looked up at him and saw a moment of sadness sweep through his beautiful eyes. “I’m so sorry Jack. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I lost my mom to cancer when I was six, but I can’t imagine losing both of them.”

  He smiled at me. “Yep. It sucks. But it was a long time ago. Here are a couple of clean towels. Let me know if you need anything else.” He walked out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  I jumped in the little shower wanting to finish as quickly as I could, so I could get back to Jack. It was weird, I already missed him. But more than anything, I wanted to wash off everything that was Jonathan. I couldn’t believe how naïve I had been.

  After my shower, I stood with a towel wrapped around me staring into my suitcase trying to decide what to wear. I opted for a pair of yoga leggings a tank top and a pale blue cashmere cardigan. But first I put on the pale pink lace panties I had packed in case I decided to give myself to Jonathan. The thought made me cringe. After I dressed, I turned around and looked in the mirror, trying to decide if I should put on some makeup or do something with my hair. It seemed ridiculous to put on a lot of makeup, so I just went for a little mascara and a touch of pale pink lip gloss. My hair was mostly dry falling in soft waves around my shoulders. I usually straightened it, but I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.

  I walked out of the bedroom and saw Jack standing in the kitchen. There was an old black iron skillet sitting on the stove and a wooden cutting board next to it, with little piles of onion, mushroom, tomato, and grated cheese. He was whisking eggs in a bowl. I cleared my throat and he turned around. He smiled at me and put the bowl down on the counter and took a few steps towards me. “Claire, you look…” He didn’t finish, it was if he was searching for the right words.

  I raised an eyebrow. He was a couple of feet away. He took a step closer. He reached up and touched a strand of my hair resting on my shoulder, twirling it between his fingers. Our eyes met, and I was sure he was going to kiss me. But instead, he jerked his hand away like he hadn’t even realized he was touching me. “You look a lot more comfortable.”

  I laughed. “Is that a diplomatic way of saying I need to put on some makeup and fix my hair?”

  “No, not at all, you look, uh, natural---perfect, really. Have a seat Freckles, I hope you like omelets.” I blushed and put my hands over my face, wishing I’d put on some makeup.

  He laughed. “Don’t you dare cover them up, they’re beautiful. So, are you okay with an omelet?” He asked as he went back to whisking the eggs.

  “That sounds great.”

  I looked down at the table he had set for us. The dishes were antique bright blue and white. I recognized the pattern and wondered if they were handed down from his parents or grandparents or if he even knew what a treasure they were. There were white cloth napkins folded neatly at each place with silverware set neatly where everything was supposed to go, and a heavy blue antique glass sat at each place setting filled with ice water. I laughed to myself, the only thing that was missing was a centerpiece and the table could have been a picture in Martha Stewart’s magazine.

  I watched him as he cooked, feeling like I was in a dream. He was like no other man I had ever met. A few minutes later he came over and with the skillet and spatula and put the most mouth-watering omelet I had ever seen down on my plate. He returned to the stove to make one for himself and looked over his shoulder, “Go ahead and eat, it’s better if it doesn’t get cold.”

  I realized I hadn’t spoken. “This looks delicious Jack, I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be impressed until you taste it.” He winked at me. />
  I was starving. The only thing I’d had to eat all day was that slice of pie that Suzie had given me because Jonathan refused to stop at any restaurant that we had seen all day, saying none of them looked good enough. I put my napkin in my lap and picked up my fork and took a small bite of the cheesy goodness that melted in my mouth. I couldn’t help but moan as I removed the fork from my lips. Jack laughed, “I take it that means you like it.”

  “Oh, my goodness, Jack, this is the best omelet I have ever had.”

  He kept laughing, “It’s the eggs, they’re very fresh.”

  “Are they from the farm?” I asked excitedly

  “Yep.”

  “You have chickens?” I’m sure I sounded like a five-year-old, but being in the country was all new to me.

  “Yep. We have a few.”

  He brought his omelet to the table and sat down across from me smiling, his green eyes twinkling, obviously amused by my excitement.

  “What other animals do you have?” I asked, shoveling another bite of the deliciousness in my mouth.

  “We have a few horses, a couple of pigs, some cattle, and a goat—he belongs to the farm manager, the goat’s name is Billy, he and Ted have a love-hate relationship.”

  I laughed, wishing I could see all the animals. “What do you grow?”

  “Soybeans.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yep. Pretty much. I mean there’s a vegetable garden, but that just supplies food for the farm.”

  As we ate, I asked him a million different questions about the farm. At first, I think he thought I was feigning interest but at some point, I think he realized I genuinely wanted to learn and started explaining everything in detail and his eyes lit up as talked about it. There was no doubt he was passionate about what he did. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to be passionate about something.