“You decided where you’ll be staying in the city?” Mike gave him a quizzical look. “What you’ll be doing?”
“Ginger texted me this morning and said I could stay at her place if I let her stay at mine. She wants the experience of living in a barn over the animals.”
“Lucky her.” Mike laughed. “I wonder why she wants a place of her own when she’s staying with Max and Honey?”
“Probably to pretend she’s a country girl, born and bred. What better experience than to live in a barn?”
“And have access to the hayloft and privacy in your apartment to entertain guests.” Mike handed him a screwdriver to help him hold the turnbuckle in place.
Marsh ground his teeth, but bit his tongue. It was none of his business who she hooked up with. Their agreement was for two nights of friendship only. Tomorrow evening, she would be bidding against all of the women in town for a bachelor to go to the dance with. He had to be back in his apartment packing and go to sleep early so he could wake up early to catch his flight.
“I see you’re worried,” Mike said. “Why don’t you join the bachelor’s auction tomorrow? If she bids on you and wins, you can take her to the Valentine’s Day dance.”
“I’m planning on asking her to go with me to the Valentine’s party in New York. Honey told me Ginger got tickets from a client.”
“That’s an awfully big tip.” Mike’s eyebrows wiggled in a suggestive way. “You sure she’s only a hairdresser?”
Marsh’s muscles tensed and a wild urge to punch his brother in the mouth grabbed him. How dare he make insinuations about Ginger?
He gritted his teeth to keep from being nastier. “She cut your hair, didn’t she?”
“Yep, and you can forget about the tickets. She’s auctioning them at the bachelor’s auction. I’m telling you, she’s probably flat broke and coming here to milk our Sapphire Falls generosity. She charged me twenty dollars for this haircut.”
“Should have charged you forty.” Marsh checked the last cable, making sure it was tight enough to keep the turbine from rattling around. “This is the last warning you’re getting from me. The next time you say anything snide about Ginger or imply she’s anything less than a respectable woman, I’m going to punch that kisser of yours so hard you won’t be kissing anyone’s ass for a very long time.”
Mike glared at him, stunned, before letting out a long, low whistle. “Wow. You’ve got it bad, Marsh. Real, real bad.”
* * *
That evening, Marsh raced to town to buy supplies for his dinner date with Ginger. They were making his childhood favorite, Butternut Squash Macaroni and Cheese, and he had to buy the ingredients since he ate at his parents’ house and didn’t have anything in his pantry.
Of course, he couldn’t go anywhere fast. Jim Conrad, the owner of the grocery store, took his time at the checkout line.
“Think us old geezers could get Ginger to style our hair, too?” Jim asked, while punching in the price of a package of bacon.
“You’ll have to ask her.” Marsh fidgeted as a line of people he knew built up behind him. Not that they cared, because they were all chatting and socializing.
“Now that you’re buying groceries, does that mean you’re shacking up with her? Hmm … macaroni and cheese, that’s real home cooking.” Jim squinted at the price on the box of rigatoni, before glacially punching it into the register.
Something caught the eyes of the ladies in the line behind him, because there was a flurry of chuckles and finger-pointing.
Marsh thought he’d hid the box of condoms under the Gruyere cheese, but when the conveyor belt moved, out popped the rainbow-colored collection.
“Sorry, ladies, for offending your sensibilities,” Jim called out in a loud voice. “But I have to stock necessities. Only grocer in town.”
“Oh, we’re not shocked at all.” Kathy Bennett, the matron of the town and head of all the committees, fanned herself. “We’re just happy little Marsh has finally found a good woman.”
“Although it would be nicer if he’d put a ring on her finger.” The pastor’s wife, Mrs. Michaels, darted a sharp glance at him.
“Well, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do,” Jim said as he punched in the price for the box of condoms. “Rainbow colors. Does that make a difference?”
“It was the first one on the shelf,” Marsh grumbled under his breath. “Can you hurry up, please? I still have to borrow camping gear from Tucker Bennett.”
“Camping gear in winter?”
“Yeah, please, not so loud,” Marsh whispered.
“Okie doke, that’ll be forty-seven dollars and fifty-nine cents.” Jim finally rang up the total.
Marsh paid cash and tried to help Mr. Conrad bag the groceries, but no such luck. The grocer insisted on picking up every item and placing them into the bags.
All the while, the line of ladies grew longer with each newcomer being apprised of Marsh’s dating situation.
His ears ringing and his face hot, Marsh dashed from the grocery store and shoved the bag in his truck. Hopefully, Tucker Bennett and his boys would help him set up the truck tent with no questions asked.
This was the last chance to give Ginger a memorable country outing, and he wasn’t going to spare any amount of embarrassment to make it happen. Hopefully, she’d agree to make his memories of New York City special, too, but it meant he had to snag those tickets at the auction, first.
Time to start spreading the word that he wanted those tickets. Rich guys like the Spencer brothers could outbid him without breaking a sweat. Now that they were Sapphire Falls locals, they should understand the bro-code. No getting between a bull and the new heifer in the pasture.
Chapter Thirteen
Honey dropped Ginger off at Marsh’s barn and waved. “Have a wonderful time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Which doesn’t leave much off-limits.” Ginger flipped her hair over her shoulders. “Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t, but you have to tell me all about it,” Honey said before raising her car window.
The door to the stairway was unlocked, and Ginger sauntered toward Marsh’s apartment. Cows lounged in their pens below, chewing cud, and a cute calf lowed after her as she climbed the stairs.
Maybe in the morning, she could ask Marsh to introduce her to his animals. She’d never petted a calf before, and even the pigs seemed curious and interesting, not disgusting like she imagined they’d be.
Hens clucked contentedly, perched on their roosts, and sheep ate hay from their feeder. She could watch them for hours and not feel the need to check her phone, the way she obsessively did in New York.
Marsh opened the door after the first knock, as if he’d been waiting right at the door. He was freshly showered and sported a woodsy cologne.
She could get used to coming home to this sexy man, for sure. Ah, life in the country was looking better and better.
The gorgeous farmer wiped his hands with a kitchen towel. “I already peeled and seeded the butternut squash so I could get that going. Want to help shred the cheese?”
Even better, a man who cooked for her. What a slice of heaven.
She tipped on her toes and gave him a kiss across his lips. “Did you miss me?”
“Been thinking about you all day.” He took her coat, scarf, and hat. “You’re going to have a country style dinner, and then I have a surprise.”
“Oh, I love surprises.” She gave him a hug and bounced on her toes, then took off her gloves and opened her purse. “Before I forget, here’s the key to my apartment and directions. I can call a few of my friends to take you around.”
Something flickered across his face, but when she flashed him a smile, he also smiled brightly. “Great. Are you sure your friends wouldn’t mind me tagging along?”
“Of course not. But I have to warn you, they’ll tire you out. Typical fashion institute grads, but they know all the hot clubs and places to meet women.” She watched him closely t
o see if he would be flustered or deny that he was interested.
“Awesome.” He nodded eagerly. “I’m down to have a good time. So, let’s get this casserole going. What do you cook when you’re home?”
“Me, personally?” Ginger arched an eyebrow. “Nothing. I pick up stuff to eat or get takeout.”
“All the time? Doesn’t that get expensive?”
“Not really. There are food trucks and street food, and of course, ready-made entrees at the supermarkets. You could go an entire year without eating the same thing twice.” Ginger wandered into the kitchen were the pasta was boiling on the stove. “I do know how to shred cheese.”
He handed her the shredder and a packet of cheese, then grabbed a cutting board and chef’s knife and chopped onions. Frankly, it was surprising how well he got around in the kitchen, as he drained the noodles, checked the squash, and fried up bacon.
Was there anything this man didn’t do well?
Apparently relationships. But then, he had everything he wanted. An apartment of his own. Family. Friends, and women when it suited him.
“What are you staring at me for?” Marsh’s voice broke her out of her reverie. “Do I have sauce on my shirt or is my fly down?”
Ginger felt a smile lick her lips. “Neither, but I can arrange that if you want.”
“I’m sure you can.” He leaned toward her and kissed the smile off her lips. “Do you have any questions about country cooking?”
“Not really. I bet it’s delicious.” She pressed another kiss on his lips, enjoying the closeness of being able to kiss him whenever she wanted.
Of course, all that ended when he got on that airplane and took off for the city.
She helped him assemble the casserole, mixing and layering as instructed, and then he pushed it into the preheated oven.
“There, you just cooked your first country meal,” Marsh declared, giving her a high-five. “This calls for a drink.”
“You give me too much credit, but hey, I’ll take it.” She watched as he uncorked a bottle of wine and poured it for her. “Don’t you usually eat at your parents’ house?”
“I do, but my dad taught me to cook. He said a man’s got to do for himself until he gets a wife.” Marsh swirled the wine and sipped it.
“Ah, so you expect a wife to cook for you. How traditional.”
“Pretty much so. Farming isn’t a nine to five job, and a farmer’s wife is his equal partner. She gets up before dawn and fixes breakfast while he milks the cows, and during the day, there’s always one thing or another, but someone’s got to grow the food and someone else has to put it on the table.”
“Guess city girls who don’t know how to cook need not apply.” She set the wineglass down a little harsher than she meant to.
“You asked me what a farmer’s wife would do.” He put his wineglass down and came toward her. “I didn’t know you were applying for the job.”
“I’m not. Just idle curiosity, you know, learning how country life is different than what I’m used to.”
He tipped her chin so that their gazes met straight on. “So, just idle curiosity, but what kind of man are you looking for? You must have pretty high standards because any man would be crazy not to snatch you up.”
His question made her squirm, not because she hadn’t thought about what kind of man she wanted, but because she frankly didn’t know what the men she encountered wanted other than a quick lay. With so many possibilities, most men her age floated from one flower to the next, never sure if something hotter or better were around the corner.
She felt like a number, and she wasn’t holding out hope that the next guy who slept with her would care about her enough to choose her over all the millions of fish in the ocean.
Frankly, she was worn out by the revolving door singles scene in the city.
“Guess that was too personal a question.” Marsh dropped his hand and glanced at the oven. “Let’s set the table.”
A few minutes later, he sprinkled parsley over the casserole and mixed up a salad. He lit a single candle and set it on the island in front of the two barstools.
“I forgot flowers,” he admitted sheepishly. “But it’s winter, and there aren’t any out there.”
“You’re excused.” She nudged his elbow. “This smells delicious. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
“Let’s see if you like it first.” He served a portion on her plate. “You better eat up, because the next part of our date is going to require lots of energy.”
Even though she should have liked the sound of it, somehow, his question about what type of man she was looking for and the fact that she’d come up empty-handed at age twenty-six dampened her excitement.
Maybe the problem was her, not city boys or country boys, but her. She was too common and too ordinary to turn any man’s head. She was not talented like Candi, or creative like Honey, or even smart like bookish Amber.
She was only a hairdresser, and an unemployed one at that.
Plain, old, ordinary Ginger with a big mouth and bad temper. Who’d want to deal with that?
Chapter Fourteen
Marsh filled up two extra-large hot water bottles and placed them inside the tent attached to his truck bed. Ginger had seen the tent, so it wasn’t much of a surprise, but what she didn’t know was where he was taking her.
Slowly, he veered off the paved driveway and took a snow-covered gravel road past his parents’ property.
“Will anyone be able to find me if I don’t come back?” Ginger asked as the landmarks grew fewer and farther between.
“Why, are you freaking out? Wondering if I’m an axe murderer?” He chuckled under his breath. Everyone in Ginger’s family said she was fearless, but he liked teasing her and watching that uncertainty crease her face.
It made him feel not quite as intimidated that she was a sophisticated woman who’d seen more of the world than he had.
“Of course, I’m not. It just seems like we’re going nowhere.”
“Exactly. We’re going so far from the town that we won’t see any artificial light. You’ll be amazed how much you can see in the dark.”
“There’s a full moon tonight.” Ginger shuddered and rubbed her arms. “Don’t you get spooked by what might be out there in the woods?”
“Nah, I know every nook and cranny here, and if I get lost, I just follow the river, although it’s frozen solid at this time of the year.”
“Oh, joy.” Ginger put her hands over the vents of the heater.
Marsh stopped just short of the frozen river and pulled his truck behind a copse of oaks. He took Ginger’s hand. “Now comes the hardest part. Leaving the heated cab and going into the truck bed.”
“Do we have to?” she mock-whined, but her eyes twinkled with mischief.
“I promised you a truck bed experience, remember?”
“Ah, yes, we did the hayloft, but I’ll have to come back in the summer for the field of wildflowers and the rowboat on the pond.”
Marsh’s heart did a double take. Was she flirting with him, or did she really mean she’d come back?
“We have a festival in the summer. You should come check it out. It’s the biggest festival and people come from miles around. We have a Ferris wheel, a haunted house, a—”
“I know that already,” Ginger said. “Candi and Troy are planning on getting married on the last day of the summer festival.”
“So, you are coming back.” His heart took a flying leap. “I’ll most definitely have to show you the field and the pond.”
“Yep, so what are we waiting for? The truck bed beckons.” Ginger opened the passenger side door before Marsh had a chance to run around the truck and reach her.
A cold wind blew right through the cab, and Ginger squealed, “It’s so cold! How am I going to last the night?”
“Body heat.” Marsh held her close as he helped her up onto the tailgate.
He zipped up the tent against the gusting wind and they sat in the
the almost dark, with the moonlight filtering in through mesh windows.
“What do you think?” He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his face in her hair.
“I love it. You promised me the truck bed and you went out and did it.”
“Yeah, in the summer, we have parties at the riverside almost every evening. We’d gather with our trucks in a circle, and have a cookout. We’d splash in the river, drink this special moonshine called Booze, and light up a bonfire.”
“But in the winter.” She grasped his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s just us. Private. Alone. Quiet.”
“Yep. I like being alone and quiet.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cab side of the tent where he’d placed a large cushion.
Ginger relaxed against him and stretched out her legs, and so did he. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with conversation, and evidently neither did she.
The only sounds were the beating of their hearts and their quiet breaths and the tiny sparks that zinged between them as the inside of the tent warmed up with their body heat.
He inhaled her fresh, powdery scent and felt the curves of her body against his. Her long, silky hair caressed his nose and lips, igniting unspoken wishes, the kind he hadn’t dared to entertain for a long time.
She moved closer, turning toward him, and ran her hand up his chest. Her palm rubbed against his stubbly jaw with a move so delicate it made his heart tender with want.
He could no longer hold back the passion he’d kept simmering, as she rubbed her face against his and pressed the soft fullness of her breasts against his beating heart. He ran his hands up and down her sides, grazing her nipples with his thumbs, and eliciting a sighing moan from her lips.
He sucked in a breath and nibbled soft kisses along the nape of her neck, tasting the smooth skin. Soon, her luscious lips found his, and it was like drinking water at a moonlit well. He lapped and dipped, unable to quench his thirst for her, as heat flared between them from head to toe, but especially in his nether regions.
The kiss went from tender to scorching as she moaned and writhed, and coats, hats, boots, and gloves were shed. Marsh had his hands full, removing her sweater and unzipping her jeans, all while keeping his mouth busy, tasting, licking, sucking, and kissing every patch of her sweet skin.
Sapphire Falls: Going Hearts Over Heels (Kindle Worlds Novella) (My Country Heart Book 3) Page 7
