Farmer Wants a Wife: Love and Friendship, Book 3

by Shelley Munro

  Josie gave a laugh of delight. “I like this one. She’s handled the situation well and isn’t letting Nolan bulldoze her in the same way he has with the other girls.”

  Onscreen, Nolan nodded at Susan’s reply, and Tyler could tell he was enjoying his moment of fame.

  “Do you enjoy your job?” Nolan asked. “If we hit it off with each other, would you miss not working in an office?”

  “I don’t work in an office anymore,” Susan blurted.

  Something in her tone had Tyler leaning forward, eager to hear what she’d say next.

  Nolan’s eyes narrowed as the camera panned across his features. “You gave up your job? You must be very certain of your future.”

  The woman gritted her teeth, and Tyler caught a flash of irritation in her pretty blue eyes. “No, I have a new job. One of my friends owns a club, and I work for her now.”

  “What sort of club?”

  Susan ignored his demand for an answer. “What qualities do you want in a wife?”

  “Interesting,” Tyler said.

  “I wonder what sort of club she works at,” Eric mused.

  Josie cocked her head, her eyes alert behind the lenses of the tortoise shell-rimmed glasses. “A strip club? A dance club? A casino?”

  “I’d like a wife who answers questions. What sort of club?” Nolan insisted in a stern, don’t-mess-with-me voice.

  “A burlesque club,” she said, her face blooming again with that charming color. She shot a furtive glance at the camera, and Tyler and the rest of the viewing public received an eye full of scowl.

  “You said you like to dance.” It sounded like an accusation.

  “Now that sounds like a judgment,” Josie said. “She’s gonna deck Nolan if he’s not careful.”

  “I work at Maxwell’s, a burlesque club on K’ Road in Auckland,” Susan said in a firm voice while staring straight into the camera. “I take care of the accounts and wages and also dance on stage several nights a week.”

  “You’re a stripper,” Nolan said.

  “Well,” said Josie.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” Eric said. “She looks like such a goody-two-shoes.”

  The frisson of interest in Tyler grew and he couldn’t tear his eyes off the screen. This was the first woman to attract his curiosity since Rebecca stomped all over his heart. A snort escaped him, attracting a quizzical glance from Josie.

  “Do you disapprove?” she asked.

  Tyler shook his head, ears peeled to hear every word from the little lady.

  “You really need to educate yourself about burlesque,” Susan said. “Burlesque is not the same as stripping.”

  “But you do perform on a stage.”

  “Yes, I do, and I’m rather good at it. Maxwell’s is a very busy place.” Her chin lifted and she spoke with pride.

  “I like this woman,” Eric said. “I like her backbone. She’s a bit flustered, but she’s holding her own.”

  Nolan stared at her for a long moment, and Tyler almost wished he was watching the show in the presence of his mother. She’d made her disapproval very clear when he’d announced Rebecca was pregnant. He could only imagine what she thought about this Susan’s announcement. His mother was concerned with appearances and still didn’t speak to Tyler, even though he and Rebecca had ended up getting married.

  “I wonder if you’d find the countryside a little quiet,” Nolan said. “We don’t have shops or movie theatres or clubs.”

  “I’m open to trying new things,” Susan countered. “I’ve never lived in the country, but I’m sure I’ll find things to keep myself amused.”

  The Farmer Wants a Wife went to an ad break, leaving Tyler’s mind free to wander. He could think of countless ways to help keep Susan amused, and none of them included his older brother.

  “I like her too,” Josie said. “I’d love to meet her in person, although I don’t suppose we’ll get a chance after her bombshell.” She darted a quick glance at Tyler.

  “Just say it,” he said. “Mum is probably having conniptions and stressing about what Reverend Jacobs and the rest of the churchie people are going to say.”

  Eric let out a rude snort. “Clare’s morals police will get good mileage, that’s for sure.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Josie made a lip buttoning motion. “I’m staying far away from the gossip vine. I’m not even going to give into the temptation to prune, although I hate to think about the character assassination of that poor girl. Anyone for more tea?”

  “Not for me, thanks,” Tyler said. “I’ll just look in on Katey and make sure she hasn’t snuck out of bed to play with her doll’s house again.”

  “I’ll pause the show if it starts before you come back,” Eric said. “We don’t want to miss a thing.”

  Tyler strode down the dark passage leading to his daughter’s bedroom and pushed open the door. Katey’s nightlight, resplendent with unicorns, lent a warm glow to the room. His heart twisted on seeing Katey amidst a herd of soft toys and one semi-bald doll. Katey’s golden blonde hair—Rebecca’s hair—spread across her pillow and a quiet whistle sounded each time she breathed.

  Rebecca.

  The woman was everywhere even though she’d died two years ago now.

  He sighed and backed out of his daughter’s room. So many memories…

  “The show has just started,” Eric said when Tyler skirted the glass-topped coffee table to reclaim his seat on the couch.

  “There are some attractive girls,” Tyler said as they watched the segment featuring a farmer from Otago and his group of women. “The city men must be doing something wrong.”

  “Which ones do you think he’ll choose?” Josie asked.

  “A blonde one,” Tyler said promptly and laughed when Josie prodded him in the ribs. “What? You haven’t noticed most of the women in his group are blonde?”

  “Of course I noticed,” Josie said. “Which blondes will he choose?”

  “If he’s smart, he’ll go with the girl who was brought up on a farm. A fish out of water is very well for a short time, but some of those women wouldn’t like the isolation of his farm. It’s damn cold down there in the middle of winter. Lots of snow. At least the woman Nolan chooses will only have to face rain and mud,” Eric said.

  “When we come back, each of our farmers will choose eight women from his group to go forward to the next round. Who will it be? Ladies and gentlemen, the tension is palpable here, and I’m as anxious as the girls to learn who our farmers choose,” Hailee said in a confidential manner.

  “So who is Nolan going to pick?” Eric asked.

  Tyler knew who Nolan wouldn’t select. “Of the ones we saw, I think he liked the woman who owned the dog and a tea shop. She seemed nice and she was subtle yet sexy. Mum would approve of her.”

  Josie nodded. “The woman who worked as admin at the fast-food restaurant. With her farming background, she’d be a good candidate.”

  “Quiet, the show is starting again,” Eric said.

  Tyler smothered a grin. He’d take a safe bet that most Clare residents were glued to their televisions tonight.

  “Oh dear,” Josie said, her tone sympathetic when the first farmer read out his eight picks. “Some of the women look as if they might burst into tears.”

  “At least the women they showcased tonight might get a little attention from the single men in their area—one’s they haven’t met before,” Eric said.

  Tyler didn’t comment, instead wondering how he could get up to Auckland to meet Susan in person. He had a starting point—the club on K’ Road and her name—but he figured a lot of other men would have the same idea. He thought about their work schedule on the farm and acknowledged the truth. He couldn’t leave Eric to cope with the haymaking on his own. The sheep were due for crutching too.

  “It’s Nolan’s turn,” Josie said.

  They listened to Hailee ask Nolan several questions.

  “He’s good,” Eric said. “He comes across as confident
yet not arrogant.”

  “Shush,” Josie said, her eyes glued to the screen.

  Tyler watched Nolan scan the line of women, his expression suitably somber. “Hailee, the ladies I have chosen for the next stage are Maxine, Elle, Tamara, Lucy, Anna, Cherry, Jasmine and Susan.”

  “He picked the stripper,” Eric said.

  Shock rioted with excitement in Tyler as Hailee informed the viewing audience that the chosen women plus the men would be blogging about their experiences on the show. “If anyone has any burning questions for our farmers, there is a forum to post your queries and you can also comment on the blog posts. During the next show, our farmers are taking their eight women on a group date so they can assess the women in a social situation. Tune in at the same time on Thursday to learn what happens,” Hailee said.

  The closing credits rolled over her smiling face before the camera panned across the room to show each farmer surrounded by his chosen women.

  “Well,” Josie said. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “No.” Tyler stared as the camera plucked Susan’s face from the group and highlighted her for the viewing audience. Their mother was probably frothing at the mouth right now. Nolan never upset her intentionally. He was the doting son who always did the right thing while Tyler was the bad boy who messed up—according to their mother, at least. What the hell was Nolan playing at?

  Tyler couldn’t wait to discover about the fallout.

  Chapter Three

  Susan stared at the blank computer screen then glanced at the written instructions provided by Jennifer’s harried assistant.

  “What are you doing?” Maggie halted beside Susan’s desk in the office at Maxwell’s.

  “I’m trying to decide what to put on my blog. I was going to go ahead with the post on burlesque, but I checked out the posts written by other entrants and they’ve all written introductory posts about themselves and their interests.”

  “So?” Maggie said.

  Julia popped her head into the office. “Susan, it’s only half an hour before you’re due on stage.”

  Susan glanced at the clock on her screen. “Bother. I’m on my way to the dressing room.”

  “Connor brought his camera. We’ll get some shots tonight. I thought we’d take a few of you getting ready, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” Susan said, already shifting to show-mode. “I’ll take care of this later.”

  It was almost three when Susan unlocked the front door of the apartment she shared with Christina. Although the first day of filming had taken place two days before, her mind still whirled with astonishment. Nolan Penrith was playing games and doing it in a public arena. How to react—that was the problem.

  The answer popped into her mind like a magical genie.

  Act like herself.

  If Nolan didn’t like the person she was, that was his problem. No way did she intend to change her natural personality to please a man. Been there and hadn’t liked the T-shirt.

  She powered up her laptop. Time to write her post and stop stressing about the contents. No sheep behavior for her. Yes, she’d do her own thing. She took a deep breath and started writing.

  Last year, I worked for an inner city accounting firm. My best friends worked there too, but now we’ve gone on to do other things. Julia took over the management of Maxwell’s when her mother’s health deteriorated. All of us helped her while she rebranded the club and reopened. That was when I discovered I have a talent for dancing. I not only enjoy performing, but it helped me to climb out of the deep rut I’d fallen into. It turns out dancing and physical exercise is character building too, and I think I’ve changed for the better.

  A win-win situation all the way around.

  Yes, I’m a burlesque dancer. Yes, I wear skimpy costumes and sometimes I take off my clothes. Some people will call what I do stripping. Their problem, not mine.

  Burlesque has been around for a long time with some saying the art goes back to Greek times. During the 19th century, dancers performed burlesque for the lower classes, and the management and choreographers used the form of expression to poke fun at those in the upper classes. Nothing like thumbing your nose at the rich and getting paid for it! When audience numbers dwindled, the women donned skimpy costumes to attract a larger crowd. Really controversial during staid Victorian times where even chair and piano legs were covered so as to avoid offense, although it made good business sense.

  Give the men something they don’t get at home. A simple demand and supply situation.

  Susan’s computer let out a beep, indicating the arrival of an email. She clicked the icon and spotted a message from Maggie. Her friend had attached several of the photos Connor had snapped during the night. A slow grin spread across her face. The pictures were perfect and a step up from the cat and dog photos the other participants had posted on their blogs.

  Susan resized a photo of her in the dressing room, applying her stage makeup and another of her onstage. Connor had caught her saucy smile as she looked over the top of her feather fans.

  It’s no secret that Maxwell’s, in its former guise of The Last Frontier, used to be a strip club, but what most people don’t realize is that originally, the club offered burlesque performances, and Julia Maxwell, the manager of Maxwell’s, has taken things full circle to the beginning.

  We still do pole dancing, but I challenge you to come and watch our show. There is nothing tacky about the acts. Maxwell’s is class all the way. The pole dancing is very popular for hen’s parties, and everyone joins in, learning the basics and having a lot of fun.

  Maxwell’s is a place where both sexes come to relax, have a few drinks and enjoy the nightly entertainment.

  At first, I was dubious about dancing, but most of you wouldn’t recognize me on stage. You could pass me on the street and not see me as the woman who danced in front of you the previous evening. Well…that is until I appeared on national television. I figure you might notice me now.

  I started dancing to help my friend save her mother’s club. I did it out of friendship and because I know she’d help me if ever I needed her. Julia is a stern taskmaster. Every muscle in my body ached the day after our first practice session. I walked like a duck for a week before finally, my muscles adapted to the exercise and my fitness levels increased. Slowly, dancing began to feel like second nature.

  These days I find burlesque an excellent form of stress release. I’m fitter, healthier and a dress size smaller than I used to be. Score! But I’m also happy. I’ve found my niche at the club. Some people might judge me—believe me, in the past I would have numbered amongst you—but I’ve grown during the last year. I’ve learned doing something that makes you happy is just as important as finding someone to share your happiness.

  One of my friends took some photos for me to include with my post. The first photo is of me getting ready to perform. The makeup and costume is a huge part of burlesque, and after much practice, I’ve managed to become an expert. The second photo shows me in action on stage, doing a fan dance. I dare you to tell me this picture is disgusting.

  The next step in the Farmer Wants a Wife competition will prove interesting. I sent in my application because I was lonely and wanted to find a man who accepted me and my quirks.

  Despite my occupation, I’m pretty ordinary. I enjoy moonlit walks, days at the beach and dinners out. Expensive meals aren’t necessary, since fish and chips on the beach can be just as enjoyable as the most expensive five-star meal at a top restaurant. Togetherness and common interests are important, and that’s what I’m looking for in a husband. I want a man to make me laugh, to hold me when I’m sad and to support me in everything I do. In return, I’ll look after him, shower him with love and honesty. I’ll give my everything.

  If you have any questions about burlesque, have at it. I’ll be happy to chat with you.

  Susan’s lips twisted, mocking herself, as she proofread her post. She’d receive rude messages and, no doubt, a few crank emails. At
the very least, Julia would garner publicity for the club. She read her post a final time, made a few small adjustments and hit send.

  Her area of the forum remained empty, but she saw she’d received emails already. The first message made her stomach buck and not in a good way. With a shaky hand, she hit delete. She shuddered and rubbed her hands together, imaginary cooties crawling over her arms and legs.

  Her trembling fingers communicated with the cursor, and she had to concentrate to hit the next email in her inbox.

  Dear Susan,

  My name is Tyler Penrith, and yes, the name should be familiar to you—I’m Nolan’s younger brother.

  I want to apologize for my brother’s rudeness, and I can’t believe the numbskull flashed your butt to national television viewers. While most men—if they are gentlemen—would apologize and assure you they didn’t peek, I’m gonna hit you with honesty. I looked and loved the view. You’re an attractive lady. Learning about your job just intrigued me more. You possess layers and are like a complex perfume and I find myself wanting to learn more.

  Susan found herself grinning. No one had ever compared her to a perfume before, and she rather liked the contrast.

  If my idiot brother doesn’t choose you during the next elimination, would you consider me?

  I am a widower with a four-year-old daughter. My wife died of cancer over two years ago now, and as much as I love my daughter and have incredibly supportive in-laws, I find myself wanting more. Sure, I have friends in Clare, and I get out occasionally, but seeing you on television tonight was the first time I’ve found myself attracted to a woman. Go figure! The woman I’d like to get to know better is out of bounds because of my brother.

  If you’d ever like someone to talk to, I’m here. I’m not a gossip and would never pass on any confidential information should you care to use me as a sounding block. I’m including my phone number along with my private email address if you’d like to contact me. If you’re as savvy as I think you are, you’ll want to check me out. The number is in the phone directory under my in-laws name. Katey and I live with my in-laws, Eric and Josie Murdoch.