by Abby Knox
Good grief. You’re just horny, Maggie. Alex hadn’t touched you in months.
But…Jack was different, and not just in appearance. Although, those powerful, hard-working shoulders could not be dismissed. The voice, low like distant thunder. His warm, callused hand on her hand as they drank coffee together late into the night in his kitchen. He had taken possession of everything that she thought was important to her, and now—God help her—but he had taken possession of her mind, and her libido. And, shit, that man had flattened Chet Easley. Laid him out without a moment’s hesitation, all on her behalf, before he even knew her name. Doesn’t get much hotter than that.
Oh man. She was in trouble.
She had to get him out of her system. Time to focus and regroup.
Maggie soaped up, and rinsed off yesterday’s memories. She raised one foot onto the edge of the claw-foot tub and carefully balanced herself on the wall with her right hand. With her left, she reached down between her legs and felt her growing heat. It was all for Jack. If she wasn’t already drenched from the shower, she would be soaked in her body’s yearning for his touch. What would he think if he knew she was touching herself, wishing it were his hands on her? What would he think of her fingers sliding into her depths? What if he walked in right now and saw her labia spread like a flower? Would he join her and take over, or would he simply watch…until he couldn’t stand it anymore? Would he pull her out
of the tub and take her against the wall? Would he tear off his clothes quickly or slowly, eyes locked on her as she brought herself closer to climax? Would he even think of her that way? His chivalrous ways said one thing, but his eyes on her said another. Would he wait for her to make a move, or would he sweep her up into his arms, her still wet from the shower, and carry her to his bed? What would it feel like to wrap her legs around those slender cowboy abs of his? Better still, what if he wanted to have a taste of her? Would he ask first? Or would he just go for it? In her fantasy, he asked no questions but simply acted on instinct and pressed his lips against her lower lips, his tongue embarking on the dark, wet journey as she came for him in a glorious spasm.
Her cry echoed off the expensive bathroom tile before she could control herself. Relieved and head clear, she shut off the water and reached out for a towel. But there was no towel.
Oops, did I forget to check if there were towels in here? Well, this is inconvenient.
Maggie swept off as much water as she could and then put her hand on the doorknob, preparing to tiptoe into the hallway linen closet without causing too many drips on the floor.
Jackson
Speeding down the two-lane country road back toward home, Jack hoped his plan to get Maggie to stay for a little while worked. Had he gone too far? Maybe. It was definitely a risk. But he’d had enough safe bets in life. Better to risk big and fall on his face.
He couldn’t remember how to play it cool while at the same time making sure the girl knew he was interested. It had been far too long since he’d tried courting a woman.
Was that what this was? He didn’t know. All he knew was, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, his pants suddenly had him in a constant state of discomfort. It had him doing things outside of his nature, or so he had thought were outside of his nature. Bar fights. Talking late into the night. Staring deeply into her eyes. Cooking a breakfast that could feed seven farmhands, let alone a slim city girl who probably ate a protein bar on the run on a good day. And now, coming home from Tractor Supply with three large parcels, hoping that would make her feel more comfortable with the idea of staying.
Was it all a plot to get into her panties? Well…Jack was definitely interested in her panties. More to the point, removing her panties. Wasn’t everything men did for women, on some level, a way to get into her panties, even if there were no chance of that ever happening?
Dammit. He just liked having her in his house. He liked talking to her. He never enjoyed drinking midnight coffee. But he really liked midnight coffee with Maggie.
“Midnight Coffee with Maggie,” he said aloud as he pulled into the white rock gravel driveway. “That there’s a title of a country song.” Jack put the truck in park and quickly jotted down those words on a scrap of paper. Oh lord. He realized he’d known this woman less than 12 hours and he was already penning songs for her.
“That’s it, Jackson Clay,” he continued, talking to himself, still in the cab of his truck. “If she doesn’t say yes, you’re going to have to find a way for her to say yes. Because you don’t have a choice. It’s all over. This is your chance. Don’t blow it.”
When he was done psyching himself up, he got his parcels out of the truck and placed them in their proper places in the barn. One new hat and one farm jacket on the hooks, and one large vented box on the floor of the empty stall, freshly strewn with straw.
He entered through the back door and popped off his boots. “Maggie? You here?”
No answer.
It appeared she was awake, as evidenced by the disappearance of the breakfast he’d left for her. Her plate had been washed and set beside the sink, and from the looks of it she’d eaten several pieces of bacon and a short stack of his homemade blueberry pancakes (made with fresh berries he’d picked out of his own field before the animals got to them that morning). He was happy to know she was a healthy eater. That was good. She was going to need her strength to get through today.
He carefully peeked into her room. His heart was relieved to see her things were still there, but disappointed that she herself was not there.
Just then he heard a noise. A short, muffled cry from somewhere. He couldn’t be sure, he was still getting used to all the strange house noises.
“Maggie?” he called again. No reply.
Jack mounted the stairs after checking all around the main floor and not seeing Maggie anywhere.
When he reached the top of the stairs, which faced the main bathroom door, she was there to greet him. Naked as the day she
was born, soaking wet, and shocked and speechless as a deer in headlights. Jack immediately turned away and began to apologize. But it was too late. He was already salivating. The wet hair clinging to her perfect twenty-something breasts made sure of that. He’d also seen plenty more. Her navel ring. Her slender hourglass shape that had been hiding behind the Hawkeye gear last night. His brain also registered the following data: she was shaved bare. And now he knew what a thigh gap was.
“I am so, so sorry, Maggie.” He was. But he wasn’t. His dick was as hard as cast iron, still absorbing the sight of her damp, dripping body. Oh god. Oh shit.
In what seemed like an eternity but in actuality was less than a second, the bathroom door slammed shut with her behind it. “Can you please get me a towel?”
His brain fog lifted just enough for him to register what he was supposed to be doing right now instead of fantasizing about taking her into the shower and diving between her legs. Towel. Must get towel.
He did as she asked, and although only her arm jutted out through the gap in the bathroom door to receive the towel, Jack’s eagle eye unintentionally caught sight of her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Her ass. Holy shit. It was nice. Round and firm, but not too firm. Curvy. Dammit, he might be even more of an ass man than a breast man, if he was honest with himself.
The glance only lasted a split second, but it was real and it was seared into his memory. He was glad he couldn’t see her blush behind the door as it slammed shut again. He did his best to keep his voice steady. “Maggie, I am so sorry. I must have forgotten to put towels in the guest bath.”
He waited for a snarky reply, which he totally deserved. Instead she asked, “Guest bath? If this is the guest bathroom, what other bath is there?”
Jack was relieved for the change of subject. “Oh, well…I sort of built a master bathroom. The house needed a second bath, don’t you think?”
Maggie actually laughed. Nervously, but still, at least she wasn’t fuming mad. She was entitled to be. “This ho
use needed a second or third bathroom when I was living here with Mama and four other foster siblings.”
Jack shook his head in wonder at the abilities of Mama Jane to get through life with teenagers and one outdated farmhouse bathroom.
“As soon as you’re dressed, I’d like you to come out to the barn. I’ve got something to show you.”
“That sounds pretty creepy, Jack.”
He laughed. “I mean, I’d like to offer you a job here, and I have something for you in the barn that I hope will convince you to accept my offer.”
She was quiet for a moment, then hesitantly said she’d be right there.
Jack couldn’t help but smile at her easy-going nature. She got over the trauma quickly. Unless…unless she was quietly pleased that he’d seen her entire body naked. Nah…that was too much to hope for.
Chapter 5
Maggie
Maggie shivered in her waffle-knit top and black sweatpants as she stared down at the noisy box on the floor of the stall. Thinking about the moment when his eyes had glanced at her bare breasts accidentally didn’t help to keep her nipples from turning hard in the stiff breeze that blew through the barn.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
She slid off the vented lid, and there were twelve perfect little yellow chicks. The sweetest, fuzziest, cutest little chirping things she had ever seen. Her heart melted into a puddle of goo.
“What on earth…?”
She looked up at Jack, who was leaned against a support pole, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t identify. Or maybe she didn’t want to identify it. It was mischief.
“Jackson Clay, this is adorable, but I do believe you are manipulating me.”
He laughed. God, that was a sexy laugh. “I am doing no more and no less than what any other employer would do to sweeten the pot for a potential employee.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack. But I’m going to stay with my sister in Iowa City. I’m pretty sure she can get me a job at the university. I can make my way by serving and then go from there.”
She could hardly believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. She hadn’t given any thought to her next steps at all that morning, but there it was. He looked surprised. Disappointed. And maybe…a little bit hurt.
“OK…well. You do what you need to do, I guess.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you…”
“You don’t need to explain yourself. You’re entitled to make your own decision, and you got thrown into this situation without knowing the whole story. I shouldn’t have presumed to think you would want to stay, especially in light of what just happened upstairs.”
“I don’t think you understand… This has nothing to do with that. I wasn’t bothered—I mean, that was an accident—but it’s just that…well, do you see how maybe us living in close quarters and working together might be a bad idea?”
“Yep. Bad idea. Very bad idea.” His eyes darkened as he stared at her. She stopped petting the chicks and stood up when she heard tires on the gravel driveway.
She wanted to explain herself before this visitor appeared. She wanted to leave on friendly terms.
“Listen, I love this place, but I just think you and me, living together… It might be seen as a little weird.”
“You’re worried what people think?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not especially. I’m surprised you are.”
“I just worry that things will get complicated?”
“Complicated how?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
“Well, which is it? Are you worried about what people will say in town, or are you worried I’m going to use my position as your boss to get you into bed?”
“Jack, I know you’re not that kind of guy…”
“We’ve got company. I’ve got company. You’re free to stay or go as you please. Sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”
“Jack, wait…”
But he was out of the barn and already standing defiantly in front of a black town car that abruptly came to a halt inches from his kneecaps. Maggie watched from the doorway of the barn, holding one of the chicks to keep her hands warm. She shivered. She wanted to go back inside and sit near the heat lamp with the little yellow babies, but she really wanted to see what was happening.
The driver exited the vehicle. He wore a suit and tie, carried a briefcase. He extended a hand toward Jack.
Jack did not accept. “What can I do for you?”
His tone was civil, but there was a warning behind it. She was extremely curious as to who this man was.
She couldn’t hear everything, but she understood there was an offer of some kind being made by someone. The man was taking a document out of his briefcase and trying to hand it over to Jack. Jack didn’t even look at it. Taking the chick with her, she stepped closer to hear the conversation.
“I told you to tell Easley I wasn’t interested in selling.”
“You probably want to take a look at the offer, Mr. Clay.”
“I know exactly what this land is worth to the Easleys, and I don’t care.”
“Perhaps we can discuss this privately? Here’s my card. I’ll take you to lunch. I can arrange an agent to show you what you can buy in the city, in Des Moines, with a cash offer of this size.”
Jake seemed to hear Maggie approach and adjusted his tone. “Do you recall when I asked you to speak to my agent?”
“Mr. Clay, you know that I know you do not have a listing agent.”
“OK. Then you can go talk to my lawyer. She’s at Dewey, Cheatham & Howe.”
Maggie had to try her very hardest to stifle a smile. A sense of humor, too? That’s it. Jackson Clay is gonna get his dick sucked so hard by me he’s going to forget anybody ever wanted to buy this farm from him.
The lawyer looked extremely annoyed. “Is this a joke to you? You know, in this economy, a lot of farmers would be thrilled to be in your shoes, to receive this kind of an offer.”
Jack laughed. “Oh, trust me, Earl. I am happy beyond measure to be in possession of something that Chet Easley wants so bad he sends his lackey over here. I feel like I got myself a little fan club. Would you and Chet like my autograph, is that what you want?”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She had no idea Jack was so funny when he was angry.
Earl the lawyer’s eyes flashed irritably. Things were about to get heated. And then Maggie stepped in to defuse the situation.
“What Jackson means, Earl…sir…esquire…sir…I mean…Mr. Clay here just hired me on as his farm manager. You wouldn’t want to put me out of a job on my first day, would you?”
Earl eyed her, and then his eyes traveled slowly, creepily, down her body.
“Well, who have we here? Maggie Foster, is that you?”
That was the first time since high school she’d heard that nickname used to categorize and belittle her and her siblings. There was never anything wrong with being a foster child, but anytime anybody at that school needed to explain away her or any of her siblings’ behavior, excellent grades, or less-than-name-brand clothes, all they had to do was pretend their last name was Foster. And then she realized who she was talking to. Earl Prescott. Chet’s best friend in high school and all-around weasel face.
“Chet mentioned you were back in town. I must say, the fresh meat factor in Middleburg just went up a notch.”
“You’re still a pig as always, Earl. Now just a pig in a suit with a law degree.”
The lawyer sneered and continued to take in her appearance. “Just one notch. That’s about all.” He shrugged. Then he turned back to Jack. “I’ll let Chet know we were in touch.” He turned to walk back to his car. And for the second time in 24 hours, Jack was putting a man in his place with his fists.
Jackson
That skeezy, round lawyer Chet had sent over was huffily picking himself back up off the ground, hand covering the spot on his jaw where Jack had socked
him. But he wasn’t a drunk and he wasn’t actually bleeding, so there was no chance in hell that Jack was about to help him up.
“Apologize to the lady.”
“I’m going to have you arrested, and the Easleys will have this farm whether or not you want to sell, sir.” Earl brushed the dirt off his jacket and hightailed it back to his car.
Jack caught up with him before he could stop himself. All he saw was red as he pinned the lawyer to his town car. “You won’t have any working bones in your fingers to file a charge on me if you do not apologize right now. You don’t speak to my employee like that. You don’t speak to anybody like that on my property.”
Earl closed his eyes and uttered a half-baked apology, just to get away from Jack.
That was enough. Jack didn’t actually want to traumatize Maggie any more than he already had with his temper. Before Earl whisked himself away, Jack warned him, “You ever even look at her sideways again, I’ll knock so many teeth out of your face you’ll have to eat your Maid Rite sandwiches out of a blender.”
When he was gone, Jack turned to Maggie. They both looked at each other in shock, with a twist of excitement.
“You decided to stay?”
She smiled at him. That sweet mouth was smiling at him, even after he’d lost his temper on that dickhead lawyer. “I can’t just let anybody take your farm without a fight. It’s my farm, too.”
Jack liked the sound of that. In fact, he really, really liked the sound of her saying those words. She was staying, and she was referring to his place as hers. She said the words. And the effect of her words sealed the deal. He was going to have her, no matter what it took.
“I think you made the right decision, Maggie.” He couldn’t bring himself to smile, even though he was, in fact, elated. He was, every bit of him, hot and bothered and ready to bed her right there in the barn. He didn’t even care if she could see it all over his face.
