Having shown Amy round the rest of the house he finished with the pool where one of his staff had helpfully left out a big jug of iced juice and two glasses. Amy’s eyes had seemed to be getting bigger and bigger the more he showed her and now she saw the pool he was sure they were going to pop out of her head.
“You have a pool! A freaking massive pool!”
“Yes, do you …. Erm.. Amy, what are you doing?” He stood and watched as she started to take down her jeans, revealing her long slim legs, slightly paler now after so much time in the hospital but starting to look much stronger than they had when she’d first woken up from her coma.
“Swimming, what does it look like?”
“But, well do you need me to get you a costume or something?”
It was too late, though, as Amy slipped into the pool in just her panties and vest top.
She splashed him, soaking his jeans and t-shirt. “That’s to get you back for earlier.”
“Earlier? You mean when I flicked a tiny bit of water at you? Wow, you really go all out when it comes to revenge, don’t you?”
She splashed him again. “Really, you’re so wet now there is no point keeping those clothes on. You should just take them off and join me in the pool.”
Her face was full of innocent fun but the look in her eyes told him it was more than just splashing she had on her mind. Suddenly finding himself eager for a swim, he stripped down to his boxer shorts as fast as he could and lowered himself into the pool. Pushing himself off from the side he glided under the water and came up right next to Amy, shaking his head like a dog.
Amy instantly wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, you’re a pain, but I’ll forgive you seeing as you look really hot all glistening with water.”
In fact, Amy was reminded of when she had first met him and how she thought he looked like Mr. Darcy, seeing him with his dark hair all wet had brought those memories flooding back. Unable to resist she kissed him, allowing herself to be completely in the moment and basking in the feeling of their wet bodies held against each other. Finally allowing the passion that had been growing between them all day to explode.
***
Amy woke some time later back in her bed. They’d moved from the pool to the bedroom and made love several times. Amy’s body felt a little stiff but Norman had remained a gentleman throughout, always making sure that she wasn’t in any pain, that they weren’t aggravating her back in any way. It felt truly wonderful to be cherished by him.
Even now while he was sleeping, he had instinctively moved and lightly stroked her. She nestled back down next to him. Drifting back off to sleep safely in the knowledge that she was well and truly loved.
Chapter 5
Sitting beside Norman in his McLaren Amy felt a little apprehensive. It had taken a few weeks to get back up to full strength but finally, the time had come to move back to her farm.
Norman had already taken Rollo and Tabatha back earlier in the morning which had taken one thing off her mind but she had to admit that she was worried. Norman had been trying to do as much as he could in between caring for her and looking after his own business but she imagined that there was still so much to do. How was she going to manage it all? She was going to have to see if she could find somebody to help her again. She turned and looked at Norman thoughtfully, she wished that it could be him but that was selfish of her.
Living with him, spending every day with him had been so perfect. Whilst she knew that they would, hopefully, still get to see each other every day it felt like it was going to be different. How were they going to manage when they both lived such different lives?
Turning into the road that led down to the farm, Amy was surprised when Norman suddenly pulled over.
“Amy, I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Well, the thing is, I’ve arranged a little homecoming surprise for you. So I wondered if you’d be ok with me blindfolding you?”
Intrigued, Amy agreed instantly. “Yeah, I suppose so. What kind of surprise is it? Am I dressed ok?” She looked down at her jeans and t-shirt. She really hoped he hadn’t arranged a party as she wasn’t sure she could cope with a large number of people at the moment.
“Oh yes, you look perfect, beautiful as always. You don’t need to worry about that.”
It was a strange feeling, traveling in complete darkness. She’d thought that she knew the road like the back of her hand but there seemed to be fewer bumps than she remembered. Maybe it was Norman’s car that was a little smoother than her old truck.
The car suddenly came to a standstill and Norman’s voice seemed loud in her ear. “Ok, I’m going to come over to your door and help you out. You trust me, don’t you?”
She blindly reached over until she found his hand and held it tight. “You know I do.”
Norman kissed her hand briefly and then left her sitting in the dark. It was only a few moments though before the door was opened and he was helping her out of the car and arranging her to face the way he wanted.
“Ok.” He whispered to her. “I’m going to take the blindfold off now.”
At first, all she could see was the bright sunshine as her eyes adjusted to being back in the light but slowly her beloved farm came into view. Except it wasn’t quite her farm, she looked around, trying to take in all that she was seeing. Everything was…. done. The barn had been completely rebuilt and a new roof had been put on, all the little jobs on the farmhouse had been completed and the porch had brand new boards. It had even been decorated with two of her uncle’s rocking chairs, a gorgeous table made from an old tree stump and pots of various flowers to add lots of colors.
She was turning towards Norman when something in the field caught her eye. “Are those….are those strawberry plants? Norman, what did you do? This is too much. I mean it’s perfect, everything is exactly how I wanted it to look, but how?” Unable to get her words out and overcome by shock she burst into tears. Norman’s arms were instantly around her.
“Shhh, it’s ok sweetheart. Do you like it? I wanted it to all be ready for you when you got back so I hired some workers to finish everything. I hope you don’t mind? I just wanted it to be exactly like your dream. The only thing missing is the animals but I thought you might want to choose those yourself.”
Amy continued to sob into his shoulder, unable to process the enormity of it all. How had this happened to her? How had this man just appeared in her life and then made all her dreams come true?
“Thank you, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me. The hospital, the treatment, my recovery at your house, all this….” She pulled away from him so that she could look into his eyes. “I’m never going to be able to repay you for everything that you’ve done.”
“You don’t need to worry about any of that. All I need is to know that you’re happy and that makes me happy too. Besides, you’ve already given me so much. Without you and this farm, I wouldn’t have realized how unhappy I was in my life. How pretentious I found it all. Working here with you gave my life new hope and meaning. In fact, there is something else I need to tell you. I’ve been speaking to Mark and he’s agreed to buy me out of the real estate business, in fact, he already had the paperwork ready before I even mentioned it to him. Turned out he knew me better than I did.”
Taking a moment to process everything he was saying Amy laughed in delight. “Well, I guess that means you’re looking for a new job then? As it happens I’m in need of a permanent farmhand. I do have to warn you, though, the job requires long hours, lots of hard work and comes with a very long contract.”
“How long?”
“A lifetime.”
Norman bent down and kissed Amy. “That is going to be the best deal of my life.” He smiled eager to start their life together at Cahill Farm how he hoped it would continue, full of love.
THE END
Following stories have been contributed by my dear friend and great author Suzie Nelson.
Indomitable
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br /> by Suzie Nelson
Chapter 1
Rosie was making dinner when the news came on. She had never really been one for the depressing, constant violence that news broadcasters couldn’t seem to get enough of – she certainly got enough of it in her day job as an anger management therapist. But, about a year ago, Angelo had, for some unknown reason, decided that the evening news was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. And Rosie had never been able to say no to her son’s big brown eyes. So they’d struck a compromise: as long as it didn’t involve guns or nudity Angelo could watch the news. This meant that, for the most part, all he saw was the sports, weather, and local scandals, but the seven-year old didn’t seem to mind.
Usually, Angelo was happy enough to watch the news alone, occasionally adding his own (generally adorable) insight to the reports. Tonight, however, as Rosie was grating carrots into the salad, he began calling her name impatiently. “Mom! Mom! Look! It’s Lewis! It’s Lewis!” he shouted, pointing excitedly at the TV screen.
The name Lewis meant nothing to Rosie so she put down the grater and the carrot and came over to join her son. As soon as she saw what he was watching, however, she had to smother a disgusted sigh. It was a video clip of Lewis Maserati, a baseball star who was arguably even better known for his playboy antics and devil-may-care attitude than his, admittedly incredible, talent on the diamond. All the men she knew wanted to be him, and all the women she knew wanted to sleep with him, but, to be honest, Rosie couldn’t see the appeal of either prospect. As far as she was concerned, the man was an egotistical douche who thought his fame made him untouchable – not that she’d ever say that to Angelo, who had a poster of him above his bed.
As they watched, Rosie felt more and more justified in her appraisal of the sports star. The video had been shot on someone’s phone, and it showed Lewis drunkenly heckling a lesbian couple in an upscale Manhattan bar, offering to show the women a “real” good time while grabbing his crotch. Finally, one of the women, a petite brunette, stood up and told him to get lost. She came up to his shoulder – and that was in three-inch heels. In response, the sports star made a grab for her breast and she hauled off and smacked him. Rosie cheered silently.
But, before he’d even fully recovered from the slap, Lewis had decked the woman, sending her sprawling backward, crashing into her chair and table and taking them with her as she fell. The woman’s date screamed, and the waiters, who up until that point had been trying to ignore the situation, finally came forward and restrained Lewis as he shouted abuse at the women. The date cradled the tiny brunette in her lap, crying, while another diner came over to offer her services as a doctor. As Lewis furiously fought the waiters, he caught sight of whoever was filming.
“Release that video and my lawyers will destroy you!” he screamed at the camera as the waiters hauled him away. Suddenly, the video came to an abrupt end.
The newscaster came back on screen, explaining that the video showed events from last night and that Maserati was now facing charges for battery, sexual assault, and perpetrating a hate crime.
“Good,” Rosie muttered to herself.
Angelo turned his cherubic face to hers. “But, Mommy,” he asked, puzzled, “why would Lewis hit that woman? She was really pretty.”
Rosie sighed. “It doesn’t matter how pretty someone is, Angelo. You should never hit anyone. But, sometimes, people get so angry that they can’t keep it inside anymore. And then they do something bad.”
Angelo frowned. “So Lewis was angry at that lady?”
“Not exactly, sweetie,” Rosie shook her head. “You know when you’re hungry and then sometimes you get angry and do or say things that you don’t mean to?”
Angelo nodded. He was known for hunger-related temper tantrums. “So Lewis was hungry?” he asked.
“Something like that,” said his mother, ruffling his blonde curls. “What about you? Are you hungry, blossom?”
“Not like that,” said Angelo. “But a little bit.”
“I hope so because dinner’s just about ready. Will you help me set the table?”
Angelo beamed up at his mother. “Yeah!” he shouted and raced off towards the kitchen.
Rosie watched him go, her smile tinged with sadness. Reaching for the remote, she shut off the television and followed her son back to the kitchen.
Chapter 2
Someone was banging on his door.
“Fuck off!” Lewis groaned from bed.
The person might not have heard him or they might not have cared. Either way, the banging continued.
“Fuck OFF!” Lewis repeated, burying his head under the pillows.
“No, Lewis, I will not ‘fuck off’. Not this time, you complete fucking idiot.” His manager’s voice came thundering through the penthouse suite’s supposedly soundproof door.
Lewis groaned.
“Open the door, Lewis,” his manager commanded.
Sullenly, Lewis rolled out of bed and shuffled towards the door, stopping to grab a bottle of Gatorade from his fridge and admire himself in a mirror as he went. Goddamn, he was ripped, he thought to himself as he watched his reflection flex its powerful biceps. No wonder all the ladies are dying to get their hands on a piece of this ass. He winked at his reflection and took a swig of Gatorade.
His manager hadn’t stopped hammering on the door.
“What now, Ben?” he asked as he finally wrenched open his door.
“You fucked up, Lewis, that’s what now,” Ben Johnson replied, as he shoved his way past Lewis and into the apartment. “Or don’t you remember assaulting a 5’2” woman last night?”
“I did what?” Lewis repeated blankly.
“You punched a fucking pixie in the face, Lewis. And that was after you told her and her date that all they needed was to, and I quote, “take a ride on a real cock” as well as after you tried to grab her tit.”
“Uhhh,” Lewis blinked, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember the night before. “Wait, you mean I’m a homophobe when I’m drunk? I had no idea.”
“That is not the take away you should be getting from this, Lewis,” his manager replied sternly.
“Ah, come on, Ben,” Lewis rolled his eyes. “I was fucking hammered last night. Don’t remember a fucking thing. Besides, you know I don’t have a problem with the gays. I mean, you’re one for chrissake. And you know I love you, man.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “It might help your case if you didn’t refer to us as ‘the gays.’ Just a thought. And I will not ‘come on’. You’re in serious trouble, Lewis. Gay rights activists are out for your blood. Not to mention the woman you punched is Carla fucking Rossetti.”
“Seriously? I tried to grope Carla Rossetti? Dude, she’s hot. I would totally nail her.”
“Yes, a fact that you made abundantly clear last night. She also happens to be a world-famous film star who’s armed to the hilt with heavy-weight lawyers that are going to rip you to shreds in court. For chrissake, Lewis, you’re being charged with battery, sexual assault, and perpetrating a hate crime!”
Lewis shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. When has an assault charge ever stuck, Ben? And everyone knows I’m not actually homophobic. Plus it’s not like I was going to rape her or something.”
Ben glowered at his hungover star player. “I’d suggest you not make jokes like that in public. And there’s video footage this time, Lewis. Someone filmed the whole thing on their phone. It makes things pretty black and white.”
“Okay, so we’ll buy the phone and I’ll autograph something for the owner and they’ll faint with excitement and no one’ll ever be the wiser.”
“Great plan,” his manager replied dryly. “If only the footage hadn’t been playing on repeat all over the national news for the past, oh, twelve hours or so.”
Lewis blinked. “Christ, what time is it?” he asked.
“Focus, Lewis!” Ben shouted. “This is serious!”
“Aw, calm down, man. It’ll be fine.”
B
en pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Maybe the fact that Nike called and threatened to pull their sponsorship will finally make you realize how serious this is.”
“Nike’s gonna pull the money? They can’t do that!” Lewis whined.
“Yes, they can, you dumbass. You signed a good behavior clause.”
“Oh right,” Lewis thought back. “But they’re never actually enforced that before. My bad boy attitude is part of my charm, Ben. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” Lewis gave Ben a dazzling smile.
Ben was unmoved. “Yeah, and they’ll take those big bucks right back if you don’t agree to see a therapist, donate $50,000 to an LGBT youth charity of Rossetti’s choice, and offer her a public apology.”
Taming The Billionaire Page 83
