After Her Flower Petals: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy (The Svensson Brothers Book 7)

by Alina Jacobs

  “So it’s gambling.”

  “It’s for charity.”

  “Also, several of my sisters are the pie throwers,” Meg told me, “so you might want to wear a smock.”

  “He can wash off in the dunk tank right after!” Josie said with a giggle.

  The pie to the face contest wasn’t happening until later in the day, so I spent the morning chasing after my little brothers and making sure they didn’t eat their weight in funnel cake.

  “It’s amazing!” Johnny shouted, his mouth covered in powdered sugar.

  “Dude,” Archer said, coming up with a bouquet of corn dogs. “I think they need something that’s not straight sugar.”

  “None of this is healthy,” Mace fretted.

  “Corn dog!” Justin reached for it.

  “Ask like a civilized person, please,” I reminded him.

  “Corn dog, Deputy Mayor?” Archer called out.

  Meg headed over to us. She had changed out of her T-shirt and was wearing cutoff shorts, a cropped red-checkered shirt that was tied in front just under her tits, and flip-flops.

  Her sister Hazel was with her and laughed when she saw me. “His eyes just rolled out of his head.”

  Meg looked me up and down critically. “I’m dressed for the dunk tank. You’re going to be sorry if you wear all of that,” she said, jerking her chin to my slacks and crisp white shirt.

  “It’s whoever loses the dunk tank,” I reminded her. I gestured to the leaderboard over the two dunk tanks set up near the pavilion. “I think with all my brothers’ donations, you’re going to come out with the least amount of money.”

  “She has fans!” Hazel said primly and took the offered corn dog from Archer.

  The afternoon grew hotter. I loosened the collar of my shirt and slipped on my sunglasses as I chatted with several people from town who were asking about my positions on various items—including the compost pile.

  “I just think it’s dangerous to have all of those goats running around,” one man was telling me, his wife nodding along besides him. “What if they get hit by the train?”

  “Please make sure you have your bets in,” Josie’s voice blared over the loudspeaker. “We are now going to have the pie-throwing contest, so this is your last chance.”

  I made my way over to the temporary stage near the pavilion. There were a number of young teenage girls lined up with pies.

  Josie shoved me down on a stool. “First up,” she said, “Rose Loring.” The people who had bet money on her cheered.

  She was such a little girl; there was no way the dessert was even going to make it halfway across the expanse of grass that separated us, let alone hit me in the face.

  Rose picked up the pie, cocked her arm back, and threw it.

  It didn’t hit me in the face, but it did spatter all over my feet and on my pants.

  I growled under my breath. “What are you feeding her?” I asked Meg.

  She grinned and gave her sister a thumbs-up.

  “Next up is her sister, Minnie Loring.”

  Minnie was older than Rose, and I braced myself. These girls could throw.

  This time, the pie zoomed past my head. I let out a small sigh of relief.

  “Still no egg custard on his face. For our last contestant, we have Lucia, who is on the junior varsity softball team.”

  Shit.

  The girl looked like she was out of one of those eighties baseball movies. She had the full getup, including cleats, a cap, and hair in pigtails. She blew a pink bubble of gum, hefted the pie in her hand, wound up, and…

  “Perfect hit!” Josie yelled. The crowd went wild.

  I carefully pawed the smashed pie off my face and delicately touched my nose, hoping it wasn’t broken.

  “Since Hunter’s all dirty,” Josie told the crowd, waggling her eyebrows, “why don’t we get him all wet? Just as a reminder, the person who has the least donations in their name gets dunked in the tank! Yes, Remy, go ahead and dump some more ice in there, please. As a reminder, we do have a donation app.”

  The leaderboards flashed above our heads as the donations were counted. Blade and Weston were watching carefully to make sure their tech worked properly.

  I glanced up apprehensively. Surely, I wasn’t going into the water. These were very expensive shoes.

  On the wooden dunk tank chair a few feet away from me, Meg was perched, swinging her feet, her sunglasses propped on her head.

  “And Hunter is leading,” Josie said into the microphone. “You have five more minutes to place your bets. Oh, it looks like Meg is jumping up!”

  I glared at my brothers. You better bid, I mouthed at them.

  “Hunter is still ahead, but Meg is catching up. Last chance to make your bids… twenty seconds. Meg is catching up!”

  Crap! She could beat me!

  “And… time!” Josie called.

  Meg turned around to look at the board. Her tits strained against her shirt enticingly.

  “And it looks like we have a tie!” Josie announced.

  “You should have come to the meeting!” Remy yelled up at me as he cut the rope with an ax.

  I plunged down into the icy water and pushed off the bottom, coming up sputtering to the cheers of the crowd.

  “What an event! Thank you everyone for your donations!” Josie said. “We have a local band playing and of course beer and all the fried things you could ever want, so let’s party.”

  Remy dragged me out of the tank.

  “You did that on purpose!”

  “I was trying to make you lose completely, but I guess the bets weren’t timed all that well.”

  Meg’s sister handed her a bag after she crawled out of the tank.

  “You might want to go into city hall and change,” she told her.

  Meg hugged her bag to her chest.

  “My shoes are ruined,” I complained.

  Remy grinned. “We told you to wear something water worthy.”

  Meg walked next to me in silence across the street to city hall. Her clothes were plastered to her skin. The thin shorts clung to her, and I could make out the outline of her panties. The thin cotton of her shirt clung to her pebble-hard nipples; I wanted to put them in my mouth, roll them with my tongue.

  “We should probably go the back way,” Meg said, “so we don’t drip water all over the marble in the atrium.”

  I followed her. I wanted to peel her clothes off and press my mouth to her wet one. As soon as we were off the street and alone, I grabbed her around the waist.

  39

  Meghan

  Hunter’s eyes had been on me the entire time we had walked over to the city hall building. It was only a quick walk, but it felt like eternity. And I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I was also noticing how the wet fabric of his shirt had turned sheer with the water, plastering itself over his muscular chest, the chest I had had dreams about, the one I wanted to run my hands down and mark with my nails.

  As soon as we walked into the narrow side entrance, Hunter grabbed me, pushing me against the wall.

  “I need to change,” I chattered. His eyes were dark and dilated as he reached up and hooked a finger under the knot that tied the thin red crop top under my boobs.

  “What’s stopping you?” he rumbled, that deliciously deep voice echoing around me.

  “You,” I whispered.

  “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “I know. That’s the problem.”

  “I want you, Meg,” he breathed, his words hot against my chilled skin. “You make me crazy.” He rested his forehead against mine, his mouth almost touching my lips. The heat from his body radiated against me. “I need you.” His hands slid up my bare midriff. “Say you want me,” he said, voice hoarse.

  Maybe it was the alcohol or all the sun, but I tilted my head, closing the distance between us, moaning softly at how right it felt to be back in his arms.

  His strong arms circled me, pulling me closer against the hard plan
es of his chest. I tangled my fingers in his wet hair as he tipped my head back, claiming my mouth. His tongue teased mine, and I moaned again as his large hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me steady as he took my mouth.

  I was panting when he pulled away slightly to press hot kisses down my chest to my tits, sucking on the nipple through the fabric. His other hand slipped between my legs.

  “We cannot have sex in city hall,” I wheezed. “That is too much of a low for me.”

  Hunter pulled back. “I wasn’t going to have sex with you,” he said, blinking at me. “I was just going to eat you out.”

  That sounds like a fine idea!

  No! Bad idea!

  “Terrible idea,” I said, sounding shakier than I would have liked as I pushed him away from me.

  “Can I at least watch while you change?” he asked, eyes heavy lidded. I knew if I started taking my clothes off in front of him, it wouldn’t end until I was screaming his name.

  “Absolutely not,” I replied, picking up my bag.

  I freaked out silently in the bathroom as I changed and tried to use paper towels to wring some of the water out of my hair. My body was vibrating with desire.

  You should have just let him eat you out. I bet it would be good.

  Hell, I knew it would be good. Hunter was fantastic.

  He didn’t mean it! I tried to tell myself. Sometimes he would get like that—push my boundaries, make me think that he had changed, that he was a better person, a marriageable, settle-down-and-have-a-family type of person. Then he never failed to turn around and screw me over.

  But I still wanted him.

  Have better self-control, I chastised myself as I tugged on the long-sleeved V-neck T-shirt and the cropped pants Hazel had put in my bag.

  I walked out of the bathroom, wondering whether I should wait for Hunter or go back to the festival. Then I thought, Maybe he didn’t actually wait for me.

  Go or leave?

  I waffled in the hallway.

  Men get dressed faster than women. If he isn’t out here waiting for me, then he probably already left. Part of me felt bereft. After that kiss? He just left?

  The rational part of me was vindicated. I told you he was a giant piece of—

  “There she is!” Karen said. Her expression was the bare minimum to be called a smile, but Hunter’s smile was warm and genuine as he gazed at me. He automatically reached out for my bag of wet clothes.

  “Going back to the festival?” he asked me while Karen turned green with jealousy on the other side of him.

  “Yeah, I need a drink,” I said, grinning up at him.

  “Ernest’s stall is selling wine,” he said. “I’m not sure how good it is, though. He said he’s branching out.”

  “I might need something stronger,” I remarked as Hunter held the door open for me.

  “Hunter, you have to come talk to some of the small business owners. Don’t forget this is a big campaigning opportunity,” Karen begged.

  But Hunter had eyes only for me, and the teenage girl inside of me who had always wanted the attention of the popular boys in school was ecstatic.

  “I guess I’ll see you later,” I told him, setting an arm around his waist and reaching up to press a kiss on his mouth.

  Fireworks.

  Karen exploding in jealousy.

  Maybe giving Hunter another shot wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  40

  Hunter

  Meg was so close to being mine. I just needed to reel her in completely.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be trying to start something with Meg?” Weston asked at the campaign meeting next Monday.

  “He needs to butter her up,” Greg retorted. “She needs to approve this housing development.”

  “Yeah, but when I’m mayor, I’ll rubber-stamp it,” I reminded him.

  Blade and Weston looked at each other.

  “The race is a lot closer than we thought…” Weston began.

  “But the exit polls from primary night showed me winning the election,” I said in confusion.

  “Ida has been running negative campaign ads against you,” Karen said.

  “So complain to Facebook and YouTube that we want to kill the ads,” I said. “That it’s slander.”

  “This is a small-town mayoral race,” Blade said. “She’s not using the internet. She has them all over the radio station. She’s got phone trees going. She has little mailing leaflets that look like strip club ads that say ‘Give Hunter the title of sexiest man in Harrogate, not the title of mayor!’”

  I picked up one of the leaflets Blade handed me. “Where did she even find this picture? Did she Photoshop it?”

  “Is that not you?” Greg asked.

  I peered at it. “It’s so blurry, I couldn’t say.”

  “You sure it wasn’t taken secretly by one of the bimbos you were sleeping with over the past few months?” Garrett asked.

  The reality was that while I’d had a parade of models and underwear models and pretty actresses through my life these last few months, I hadn’t actually slept with any one of them, not for their lack of trying. My sole focus was to make Meg jealous enough to take me back. And I had finally found the perfect rage-maker in Karen. That kiss out in public before we had headed back to the fundraising festival had been fueled by pure jealousy.

  I hoped Karen didn’t see through what my plan was. I needed Meg's former boss to apply enough pressure that Meg basically convinced herself that I was a worthy prize to fight Karen over. Then she wouldn’t hesitate to claim me as hers.

  “You haven’t been doing enough bread-and-butter engagements,” Garrett told me. “You skip meetings. You didn’t show up for the Rural Trust kaffeeklatsch with the farmers. You completely blew the train ribbon-cutting ceremony, and you acted like you were too good for the fair. Meg showed up for the fundraising festival in daisy dukes, a crop top, and flip-flops while you wandered around like a lost raccoon from Manhattan in your expensive, imported Italian leather shoes, your fancy white shirt, and your business slacks. People want to see that you’re one of them, that you’re all in on being a small-town mayor.”

  “Like Meg.” I stared out the window toward her campaign office.

  “People feel like they can trust her, that she respects them. Word’s been going around about the nice things she’s done for people, and now Ida is painting you as out of touch and untrustworthy,” Weston said, running down the list of issues.

  “This is bad,” Greg said. “We could end up worse off than how we started, even if you lose. Meg and Ida are making people think the Svenssons are not to be trusted.”

  “Then we’ll run some negative ads against Meg,” I suggested, blowing out a breath.

  “That is going to backfire,” Blade remarked. “It’s going to look terrible if some billionaire is going around bullying a sweet small-town girl who’s just trying to do right by her community.”

  “He’s right. The Holbrooks are just waiting for a chance to turn this into a big national news story. We do not need a spectacle,” Greg insisted.

  “We need to shut Ida down, then,” Karen said, making notes.

  Weston huffed out a laugh. “Good fucking luck.”

  “Tread carefully,” Greg added.

  “Ida’s just a crazy old woman,” Karen said. “We’ll put her in her place.”

  “In the meantime,” Garrett said, “there is a barn raising tomorrow. Hunter, you are expected to attend.”

  41

  Meghan

  “A barn raising?” Kate asked me. “I go to Manhattan for two days, and suddenly, you’re the wholesome country girl.”

  “Hardly,” I said as I pulled on my overalls then my work boots. “I’m sure not going to be able to take any cute pictures.”

  “Wear a crop top under your overalls!” Kate insisted. “Then you can look like a cute country girl.”

  I tugged at my long-sleeve cotton shirt then fastened the buckles of the overalls. �
�A crop top is just asking to get a nasty cut,” I said, making sure I had my gloves.

  “Goodness gracious,” Kate said as I fished out my fanny pack. “You can’t wear that! What will Hunter think?”

  “He’s not going to be there.”

  “What will the neighbors think?” Kate threw up her hands.

  “That I’m there to work.” I adjusted the green-and-purple fanny pack. “It’s practical. See? Hands free!”

  “I need a drink and a fainting couch.”

  I braided my hair back and tied it off with a rubber band.

  “Hunter’s going to wonder why he even made out with you yesterday if he sees you like this,” Kate warned. “He’s going to run straight to Karen for a blow job to make himself feel better.”

  I chewed on my lip as I inspected my reflection. “He’s not going to be there,” I repeated. “And I’m not dressing up for a man that won’t even show up.”

  All my big talk in the apartment flew out the window as my station wagon made its way up the gravel drive to Marco’s farm. Thanks to a Rural Trust grant, along with job training sponsored by the Harrogate Office of Economic Development, Marco now specialized in high-quality food products. His heritage hogs were especially sought after in Manhattan, DC, and other major cities along the coast.

  The barn we were building was for the hogs. Hundreds of people from town had shown up to help. Some were making food while others were sorting out the pieces of the historic barn that the Rural Trust had purchased from the next county over and donated to Marco. A crowd of people were flocking around a big black horse on which sat a handsome man wearing a cowboy hat, a skintight white T-shirt, and jeans that fit him like a glove.

  “Oh my god! Hunter’s here. What do I do?”

  “I told you to look cute,” Kate reminded me, adjusting her own French braid. She was wearing high-waisted jeans, un-scuffed boots, and a full face of makeup. She had already signed up to help Susie with the food prep.