by Abby Knox
“Romper Room was a kids’ show from the back in the day. I sort of grew up with it.”
She laughed. “I get it. For me it was Teletubbies. That was my jam.”
Jack laughed. “That was some trippy shit.”
“How in the world do you explain you watching Teletubbies?”
“I have on occasion babysat my nieces, I’ll have you know. And the Teletubbies videos are in the bargain bin at the Hy-Vee, and it came in very handy when it was raining.”
Maggie was grinning at him again.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m enjoying discovering things about you, like that you have a sister or a brother and that you have nieces, and that you actually don’t mind babysitting. It’s cute. I’m glad you like kids. I would like ten of them someday.”
Jack felt his stomach do a leap up into his throat. This was getting real. Was she actually thinking of having children with him? Was this actually happening? He didn’t know how to respond. His brain stopped working because all of the blood had drained from his head down to his manhood. The mere implication of her wanting babies—with him, no less—made him want to take her home and get started immediately.
But there was a small voice of negativity that was always there to undercut his moment. What about your age, Jack? Even if she gave you a baby tomorrow, you’ll be in your 60s at their high school graduation. Is that what you want? You may never live to see your own grandchildren, you fool.
His better self needed to do a better job of silencing that small, negative voice.
Maggie
Oh shit, Maggie thought.
She had scared him off. Just one thoughtless comment about kids and he was scared out of his mind. What was she thinking? Why couldn’t she have played it cool and bypassed the whole subject of children and gone on talking about television shows?
It was a first date, and already she had to go deep.
This was her problem with men. This was always her problem. She was a one-man woman. To her, every relationship had to have an end goal.
She did see the point of just having fun, but she didn’t like to mess around without knowing she was safe.
And Alex had always known that’s what she wanted to hear. And that was how he had convinced her to follow him to Chicago. And it was all a sham.
And now she was headed down that same road with Jack. Who was, first and foremost, her boss. Hello, Queen of Bad Decisions. Here is your throne, crown and scepter. How would you like to ruin your life next? Fucking around with the boss with the hopes of nailing him down with a pregnancy? Not cool, Maggie.
Time to do damage control. “I didn’t mean with you. I just meant in general, that I like kids. Someday I want to have a lot of them, with somebody. And I’m just glad you also like children. It’s just something we have in common. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Now stop talking, Maggie.
Jack stared at her, his face blank. What was he thinking right now? She was dying to know.
“You have ice cream on your chin,” he said.
“Oh.” Maggie put down her spoon and reached for a paper napkin, but Jack pressed his hand over her hand and instead stood up and leaned over the table. His lips landed right on her chin and she felt his tongue licking the ice cream off her.
The sensuous move lit her up like a roman candle. A little throb emerged deep inside her panties. The combination of that ice cream lick and knowing her babbling about kids hadn’t turned him off gave her a thrill that extended from the tips of her hair down to her knees.
Jack made every fiber, cell and molecule in Maggie crackle with heat. How soon before they could go home and start making babies? An hour? Five minutes? Sooner than that would be good.
Chapter 7
Maggie
Rolo trotted home, nearly galloping. He didn’t even need to be encouraged. It seemed like he knew he had better get these two lovebirds back to the farm in a hurry.
The sun was below the horizon to the west, and the river below them sparkled with the reflection of the riverboats below. The breeze whipped through Maggie’s hair, and the fireflies danced as they flew past. Everything was alive and radiant. It was the most beautiful late spring night Maggie could ever remember experiencing in all her life. Nothing could ever come close to making this night even better. Except maybe ending it in bed with Jack. The idea that this was very likely about to happen made her whole body feel like it was liquid and fire at the same time.
Was this what true love felt like? She thought she had been in love with Alex, but this was different. With Jack’s arms snugly around her waist, she felt safe. She felt at home. With Alex, she only felt excitement. Excitement was nice. Even necessary sometimes. But it wears off, and if there’s no feeling of safety when the excitement is gone, well, that wasn’t love to her.
Was Jack simply exciting her right now? Was it a false sense of security? She hoped not. Was it too soon to take a chance? Probably. Was she horny as hell and did she at the very least want to see how quickly Jack could peel off her Wranglers? Most. Definitely.
When Rolo crested the final hill before descending into the valley that led to the familiar Caleb Creek, they encountered the Bryson wedding reception in full swing.
A country band was on the stage, leading the crowd in a rousing rendition of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.”
Jack chuckled. “Oh boy, looks like the party’s been going on for a while already.”
Maggie laughed. “Yeah, those country folks have turnt up all the way.”
Jack gave a squeeze and she squealed. “You know, sometimes I have no idea what you’re saying, but I do enjoy listening to you talk anyway.”
She was about to reply with something witty—or try to think of something witty—when a man and woman shrouded in twilight approached them. Rolo came to a stop and snuffled. “Hey there, Rolo,” the man said, approaching slowly to rub the horse’s snout.
“Hey neighbor, looks like the wedding was a success,” Jack said.
“Yep, yep. My boy’s a married man now, and I’m celebrating tonight, because tomorrow we put the farm up for sale.”
Maggie’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Well, it’s time to retire. Once Jane Blaise sold her place, I decided it was a sign.”
The woman spoke. “And I needed a vacation, too. Jane made me realize that.”
“Oh hi, Mrs. Bryson. I didn’t recognize you in a dress. It’s me, Maggie Jensen.”
Mrs. Bryson approached. She was drinking straight from a bottle of champagne. “Well, hell, if it isn’t little Maggie from next door. Talk about not recognizing a person! What are you doing home?”
Maggie faltered for words, but Jack stepped in and explained that he had hired her to help him work the farm.
John Bryson then insisted the two of them join the party. Jack didn’t want to, but the Bryson couple would not take no for an answer.
Before they knew it, Rolo was taken away to be fed and watered in the Brysons’ small horse stable, and Maggie and Jack, totally underdressed for the occasion, were unwitting crashers of Charlie and Avery Bryson’s June wedding.
They headed to the bar, where John handed them each a bottle of Bud, and they toasted his impending retirement. When John disappeared to mingle with other guests, Maggie turned to survey the dance floor. She loved an open, outdoor wedding reception. She hoped one day she would have that. She dreamed it would be just like this, with a dance floor under the stars, twinkling globe lights strung overhead like stars, luminaries marking the paths to the bar and to a gazebo. Lots of little kids dancing with their daddies, mommies, aunts, uncles and grandparents. She imagined her wedding would look a little different, because she would invite every last one of her foster siblings, no matter if she had known them or not. Everybody who had belonged to Mama Jane belonged to each other. And the idea that there was a possibility that Jack might be interested in a future like that gave her a tiny little jolt of pleasure. She s
miled and turned to Jack. He looked troubled.
“Don’t stress about crashing the wedding dance. It’s Iowa. This is what we do, right?”
Jack looked away as if he was seeing something far more interesting on the dance floor.
Her heart fell a little. “That’s not what’s bothering you, is it?” she asked.
Jack shrugged and sipped his beer.
The band’s lead singer leaned into the mic and announced they were going to slow things down. “Grab your sweetheart for this next one.”
The opening piano measures of “Make You Feel My Love,” resulted in every couple in the place swarming the dance floor to sway, some drunkenly, some exceedingly drunkenly, to what Maggie knew to be the single most romantic song in the history of the world.
She eyed Jack. He didn’t, or couldn’t, make eye contact.
“Jack.” She placed a hand on his arm again.
He looked up and said, “I don’t know how to dance.”
Without breaking her lock on his gaze, she removed her sling and took both of his hands in her hands. Then she leaned in and whispered in his ear. “It’s easy. All you have to do is mash your pelvises together and hold hands. You do want to mash privates with me, don’t you?”
He couldn’t help but smile and then laugh. He set down his beer on the bar and took her hand again. “Maggie Jensen, you do have a way with words.”
She let him lead her to the dance floor, and they let the song set the tone for what happened next.
Jackson
Jack was not an emotional man. He was not given to feel things during greeting card commercials. He never once cried during a movie. Music was enjoyable but didn’t register on his emotional spectrum.
Except when it came to Willie Nelson.
These people really enjoyed Garth Brooks. He felt a tiny lump in his throat.
Fuck.
After Wendy had left town, he had sat in the back of his truck that night with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a Garth Brooks CD, watching the corn blow in the breeze, listening to that song on repeat. Sure, it had been drunk tears that night, but they were real tears. And later, when he’d thrown up all of that Jack, he cried some more until he had nothing left. And then he’d gone and kicked the shit out of the nearest scarecrow. He still didn’t know who that scarecrow had belonged to.
The next morning, he got up, sold her engagement ring and wedding band, got back all the deposits he’d put down on their wedding, and used all that money to start a savings account to buy his own farm somebody.
And he had never looked back.
But tonight he had the most amazing woman in his arms, and his heart was breaking all over again. He was so close. Everything was coming together, and then John Bryson announced he was putting the farm up for sale, and now it looked like everything was going to shit. Literally. If Easley was to buy the Bryson Dairy and turn it into a hog feedlot, there would be nothing to stop those bastards from dumping waste into the Caleb Creek whenever the manure ponds got too full. Sure, it was illegal to do that, but they could afford the fines. The Brysons were good neighbors. Easley was a notoriously bad neighbor. Not only that, but the stink from that feedlot would get into everything. His air, his clothes, his crops, even the walls of his house. If Easley bought the Bryson property, Jack almost certainly would end up selling to Easley. There would be nobody else willing to buy a farm next door to that.
“Jackson Clay, what is going on in that head of yours?” Maggie said in her low, sexy voice, right into his ear. His arm tightened around her waist, and with his other hand he clasped her fingers and put them over his heart. He examined her shoulder.
“How does it feel?”
“Fine,” she said. “A little sore but feels OK. Is that all?” The strings of white lights that hung above them gave this sweet woman a halo effect. The sight of her like this ripped him up inside. The song, the wedding, the night breeze, the beautiful dance floor. It had been an almost perfectly romantic and surprising evening, and he was about to ruin it. He hated himself for it.
Jack closed his eyes and put his forehead against her forehead, hoping somehow he could send his racing thoughts over to her via ESP.
“I don’t know if this is gonna work out between us, Maggie.”
“What do you mean?” She reared back, and though his eyes were still closed, he could feel her stare boring into him.
He pressed her closer and put his hand in her hair. He kept his eyes closed because he couldn’t bear to see the effect of his words on her sweet, open face. He kissed her softly on her cheek and spoke as he continued to press his forehead against her head, rubbing his cheek against her cheek. Stroking her fragrant curls. “I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you a job, but now Bryson is gonna end up selling to Easley and there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re going to be out of a job by the end of the year, and you’ll be back at square one. I can’t let this happen to you. It kills me to say it, but I think you should take your sister up on her offer to find you some kind of job at IU, because I’m just a dead end for you. It kills me to say this because, dammit, there’s no other woman I want more badly to be with me in my bed right now.”
“Then fucking take me to bed, boss.” She whispered this in his ear, and it walloped him like a shot of bathtub gin.
He breathed into her neck as they continued to sway to the music, and Garth continued his crooning. “What are you doing with me, Maggie? I’m an old man.”
“Open your eyes and say that to my face, Jackson Clay.”
He obeyed and opened his eyes. But that was it.
“I said it once. Don’t ask me to say it again.”
She breathed in deeply, and he felt her breasts push against his chest. You couldn’t have pried their bodies apart with a crowbar, they were so tightly holding on to each other.
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
She repeated, “Then don’t. Don’t say it again. Don’t ever say any of that bullshit again to me because I will horsewhip you. Nothing bad has happened. Nothing bad is going to happen. And if it does, then I’m here for the long haul. Because I like you, too. I have zero desire to go back to Iowa City, Chicago, or any other place. My place is here with you. And if keeping me on the payroll is going to put the farm in the red, then you’re just going to have to fire me and let me work for free.”
“Maggie.”
“And get me pregnant for the tax credits.”
He exhaled a laugh and stroked her hair. “Maggie, you’re insane.”
“I’m fighting for you and for the farm, Jackson Clay. You’re not doing this alone.”
“Maggie, stop. You confound me.” Finally, at long last, he hugged her body against him and angled down for a kiss. It was slow, long, wet, deep, soft and hard at the same time, and it cracked open his soul. She was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted and he never wanted a taste of anything else. He could
starve for food in the desert and live off Maggie’s kisses only and he’d probably survive.
Jack was not an emotional man. But that moment he felt something more than just horny and lonely. It was surprise, joy, comfort, excitement, worry, anxiety, and lust, all wrapped up in one tight little redheaded package.
The song ended, but they hardly noticed until they came up for air, maybe minutes later.
Everyone was staring and grinning at them. Someone lifted a red Solo cup and did a classic “Whoo-hoo!” at them. Everyone laughed and clapped.
“You’re alive!” The statement came from behind him, and Jack turned around to see a lovely young woman in all white. It was the bride, Avery, and she was holding a set of keys.
“Um…” Jack wasn’t sure what was happening, but Avery explained.
“Hi, so yeah, I just checked on the horses? Rolo’s fed, watered and asleep. You can leave him here for the night and take my truck home, Mr. Clay. I won’t be needing my truck due to my leaving for my honeymoon tonight. Someone will bring Rolo bac
k tomorrow and fetch my truck.”
Jack was confused. “I don’t understand…”
Maggie snatched the keys. “I do. She’s telling us to scoot on home ’cause we’re stealing her romantic thunder. Thanks, girl!”
Avery and Maggie exchanged a look. Jack, still confused, chalked it up to some kind of weird feminine ability to know exactly what the hell was going on at all times.
He didn’t care. At this point he was so damn horny for Maggie he was turning into Cro-Magnon Jack. Jack want Maggie. Jack follow lady with keys. Time go home, have sex with pretty lady.
Jack drove Maggie home to the farm in Avery’s truck at lightning speed. When they arrived at the farmhouse, a mile away, the two of them hurried to the house. By the time they reached the porch, Jack was ready to get inside of Maggie and he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it all the way upstairs to his bedroom.
He saw the heat in her eyes and he pressed her against the front door. His mouth dove down to meet hers, and her lips greeted him with urgency. He liked the way they were in sync, both ready as hell. It was different from the kiss on the dance floor moments ago. This was the kind of kiss that signaled everyone was going to have their pants off in a hurry.
He unbuttoned his shirt and tore it off. Then started on removing his belt.
Maggie smiled and reached behind her, popping open the front door and nearly falling inside. She turned and took his hand and led him quickly to her bedroom.
Good idea, he thought. We aren’t going to make it up the stairs and a twin bed is better than doing it on the front porch. Although, now, porch sex was on his bucket list with Maggie.
The two of them frantically worked on unbuttoning her shirt and both of their jeans. Not letting go of their kiss, he helped her peel off her jeans. He made the mistake of looking down to see her white lace panties. Thank god his cock was already free of the constraints of his Wranglers, because it was making a serious tent inside his black cotton boxer briefs at the moment.
