Accounting for Love - A Long Valley Romance: Country Western Romance Novel

by Wright, Erin

  She was so near, yet she would not let him in. Stetson grunted with frustration.

  Luckily, the view is amazing, but if she doesn’t get to it…

  As if reading his mind, Jennifer finally pressed her body downward and, again, took him all in one smooth motion.

  She was blazing hot inside. Stetson marveled at the burning sensation as she began to bounce up and down. He watched as she lost herself in the feelings. She reached up, cupping her breasts, her head thrown back as she unleashed a guttural scream that perfectly expressed her lust. Stetson watched her hair flip around wildly.

  He felt the tension building inside himself. He knew he was nearing his limit. He watched this beautiful woman giving herself over to the experience.

  Jennifer’s head stretched even farther back and she let out a deep, lingering moan. Her fingers tightened, sinking into the soft flesh of her tits. She pressed her hips down, grinding him into her as far as possible.

  The extra pressure was just what he needed - his hips lifted them both off the bed as he felt wave after wave wash over him. It was nothing like Stetson had ever experienced before. The intensity was nearly overwhelming for him. His eyes clamped shut as pure joy and relief exploded from his body and mind.

  Eventually, his back relaxed and as they sank back onto the bed, Jennifer collapsed forward. Laying on his chest with her head tucked under his chin, she let out a long, contented breath. Stetson was breathing heavily as well. He concentrated on the feel of her skin against his and the sticky pull of mingled sweat that parted and re-adhered as their bodies rose and fell.

  Stetson was wondering how to free his other hand from his shirt and if he should leave his sock on or try to remove it, when she spoke.

  “Thank you,” Jennifer whispered and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 19

  “I am so sorry,” Jennifer apologized for what seemed like the thousandth time, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “For what? The greatest sex of all time? If I thought that would happen again, I would invite your ex-boyfriends over all the time.”

  “That was great, but that’s not what I am referring to,” Jennifer said, swatting at him with a towel.

  “Then why are you blushing?”

  “I am not blushing. I am flushed. There is a big difference.”

  “Oh really? And what difference is that?” Stetson asked, grinning at her.

  “The difference is, blushing is what happens when you are embarrassed by something. Flushing is what happens when you want something to happen again.” She gave him her best seductive eyelash flutter.

  They both laughed.

  They slept for nearly three hours. Jennifer woke up feeling refreshed and energetic. Unfortunately, she seemed to want to put all of that extra energy into apologizing for Paul’s sudden appearance.

  Trying to find another outlet, Jennifer had suggested that she cook them lunch. Carmelita was still out doing whatever she was doing to avoid cramping their style, and so they had playfully chased each other down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “I am sorr…” Jennifer started to say as she rummaged through the refrigerator.

  If I start to say that again, I am just going to shove whatever food is nearest to me into my mouth. I don’t care if it is a jalapeño. Okay, I care if it’s a jalapeño. If I start to apologize again and a jalapeño is the nearest food to me, I will shove the second closest piece of food into my mouth.

  She could feel him staring at her as she bent over to reach into the fridge again. She gave a little shimmy. She knew the loose-fitting pajama pants were not hiding the top of the thong panties she had added to her meager outfit. It may have been less than classy, but the playfulness amused her.

  “Hmmmmm,” was Stetson’s only reply.

  She moved about the kitchen, enjoying his rapt attention.

  “I’m really not that upset at what’s-his-guts, you know. He was a pompous little worm, but I can’t blame the guy for chasing after you. What I don’t get about him is why did he wait two years before trying to get back with you?”

  “Probably because he has worked his way through the entire nursing staff,” Jennifer mused as she broke apart a chunk of hamburger into a pan. “I would really like to know what Greg was thinking, giving him my location.”

  “I was thinking about that too. That does bother me. I’m thinking about complaining to the bank. Just because I am behind on the payment does not give the bank the right to possibly compromise your safety or mine.”

  “Don’t do that, please. Paul is harmless, and it would really make things bad for me at work.”

  “Why does your boss hate you so much?”

  “It has to do with my outlook on my job.”

  “What does that have to do with it? Don’t you both see your job the same way?”

  He might actually let me explain what I think my job is.

  The thought caused her to pause for a moment, and Stetson took the silence all wrong.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Oh, heavens no,” Jennifer said. “It’s just that no one has ever let me talk about the way my job works.”

  “Really?”

  “Nope. Never. Everyone assumes that when I show up, my job is take their home away and tell the bank how much it will be getting in the deal.”

  “I thought that same thing just a couple days ago,” Stetson said, lowering his head. “I’m truly sorry for that.”

  Jennifer set the knife she was using to cut the green peppers down on the cutting board and stared at Stetson. She waited for him to look up at her, her eyes filling with tears.

  Stetson’s head finally came up and he looked her in the eye.

  “Thank you,” she said hoarsely, as a tear broke free and fell down her cheek.

  I really am falling in love with this man.

  Jennifer did not allow herself to indulge in the happy cry because she could sense his discomfort - such a guy - so she wiped her tears away and pressed on.

  “My job is really to come out to a place that is having trouble paying their loans and look through everything with the intent of finding a way to bring the loan current. Most people don’t realize that banks usually lose potential income when they foreclose. The bank normally gets the principal loan amount back through selling the foreclosed property - not always, but most of the time.

  “However, the bank makes more money if a loan is paid off in full over the specific time frame. It is all that extra money from interest that is the bank’s profit. If they foreclose, they have to sell it to someone else, and that starts the profit clock over again. Even worse, another bank might make the loan and then, my bank doesn’t see a profit at all. So the way I see it, my job is to find out if there’s a way to keep the loan going.”

  Jennifer stopped to make sure Stetson was keeping pace. She knew that, sometimes, she could be a bit of geek about finance, and she would ramble on long past when people stopped understanding or caring.

  “Okay, fair enough. So what does Greg think you should be doing?”

  “Greg thinks I should be doing what everyone accuses me of doing. He thinks that there’s a good chance that if a bank forecloses on a property, the new customers interested in purchasing that property will try to get a loan through our bank to buy it.”

  “Kind of like a bargaining tool?” Stetson asked. “I mean, as the new buyer, I understand that it benefits the bank if I get a loan from the same bank so it can keep making money off that land - first, by collecting interest from the original buyer, and then resetting the clock and collecting a lot of interest from me, the second buyer. So if I, as the second customer, uses the same bank as the first, maybe I can negotiate a lower price for the property in return.”

  “Exactly,” she replied, beaming at his quick understanding. “Greg also thinks that foreclosure is the quickest way to resolve these types of situations. He doesn’t have to do all the paperwork that is associated with the bank repossessing
the property, so he doesn’t understand what a pain in the ass foreclosure really is.”

  “So, you want to help people because that’s the best solution for the bank and for them,” Stetson said, “whereas Greg doesn’t like that because he doesn’t understand all that goes into it, but he’s the boss so it doesn’t matter what he doesn’t understand.”

  “That’s pretty much it,” Jennifer agreed, laughing.

  “Why don’t you just quit?” Stetson asked.

  “I need the job. I have to make a living somehow, and the banking industry in the Northwest is a pretty tight community. If I quit, it would be hard for me to find another job. Especially in the Boise area.”

  Because Greg would sabotage me.

  Leaving that thought unspoken, Jennifer stared at the ground beef browning on the stove and the pile of chopped onions and peppers. She really had no clue what to cook. Stetson watched as she pondered the problem. She finally came up with an idea, threw the vegetables in the pan with the meat, and went searching for tortilla chips. Nachos it was.

  “So, speaking of my job, there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  She took a deep breath, her stomach jumping with excitement. “I think I’ve found a way to bring you current on the loan.”

  Stetson leaned back. Jennifer couldn’t get a solid read on his expression. She waited for him to process the information.

  “How’s that?” he finally asked.

  “I was going through the assets and income records, and I found something, or rather, I didn’t find something,” Jennifer said, just as the oven timer sounded.

  Taking a moment to apply salsa to the nachos and serve them, she pulled up a stool around the counter, opposite him, so she could look at him as she laid out her big find.

  I can’t wait to see his reaction!

  “I found a notation for about 150,000 bushels of wheat, and what I didn’t find was a corresponding notation for the sale of that wheat,” she said triumphantly.

  “That’s because I haven’t sold it,” Stetson said flatly.

  Jennifer looked at his face closely. His expression was hard and cold.

  Ummm…what just happened?

  “I did the math,” she continued more tentatively than before. “If you can find a buyer for that wheat who will give you at least $6.25 a bushel, you can make the balloon payment on the loan and pay the late fees.”

  “I am not selling the wheat for less than $9 a bushel,” he stated flatly.

  Whoa. What just happened here?

  “Uhh,” she stuttered a little, “why not? If you could get the $6.25 a bushel, you could get the bank to leave you alone.”

  “I saaaiiidddd,” he snarled, “I am not selling that wheat for less than $9 per bushel, and that is final!”

  “I really don’t understand. If you don’t sell the wheat, you’ll lose the farm.”

  “That wheat is the last crop my father harvested,” Stetson said, shoving his nachos away from him to emphasize his point. The plate teetered on the edge of the counter, but did not fall. Jennifer had the fleeting impression that Stetson would’ve loved to have seen the plate shatter in a million little pieces on the ground. “He wanted to get at least $9 per bushel, and that is what I am going to get for it.”

  “But,” Jennifer pressed on, confused, “I looked up current wheat prices and you can get $6.25 easily and probably a little bit more, but I don’t think you could get $9 anytime soon and certainly not soon enough to save the farm.”

  “I AM NOT SELLING THE WHEAT!” Stetson shouted as he stood up from the counter, his stool clattering the ground behind him.

  “You would rather let the grain rot in the bins and lose your father’s farm,” Jennifer shouted back, “than sell for less than he wanted? You do know that makes no sense at all, right?” She felt her face flush red. This was beyond ridiculous - he had to know that.

  “It was his last wish, and I’m gonna make sure it happens no matter what! You people from the city just don’t get it. You’ll never understand what it means to follow through on a promise.” His face was as red as hers, his hands fists at his side. They were staring each other down across the countertop, neither one giving an inch.

  “If you don’t sell the wheat, I’ll have to recommend that the bank foreclose on the farm. You’re forcing me into a corner!”

  “Fine, take the son-of-a-bitch! That’s what you wanted all along. All this bullshit about helping people was just an act!”

  “Is that what you really think?” Jennifer tried to hold back the tears, but they were just as angry as the rest of her. They leaked out of her eyes and scorched streaks down her face.

  “I think that everyone wants me to leave this farm, so why shouldn’t I? That’s what everybody wants. My brothers wanted me to leave, Michelle wanted me to leave, and now the bank wants me to leave. So just take the fucking thing!”

  Stetson stormed out of the house, slamming the front door.

  Jennifer stood in the kitchen, feeling empty and drained and hot and angry as she heard the spraying gravel hit the house from his spinning tires.

  Chapter 20

  Jennifer was relieved to find that the body shop was open on a Saturday and that her car was finished. Stetson had left his credit card on file to pay for the damage. The guy at the body shop was happy to deliver the car out to the ranch and thought he could have it to her in about an hour.

  Thanking the man, she ended the call before heading upstairs to pack her things.

  At least everything is in the guest room. Anything that is in the other bedroom, I can live without or replace. I just can’t go in there.

  She threw everything into her suitcase, a jumble of clothes and makeup and toiletries, but for once, she didn’t care. Usually a fastidious packer, the tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks made it hard to see and even harder to give a damn.

  When the body shop man showed up at the ranch with her car, she signed the paperwork by Braille. She never looked the man in the eye, letting her hair cover her face, afraid he’d see the trail of tears cascading endlessly down - a personal version of the Niagara Falls. She tried not to snuffle too much, but she wasn’t sure she was fooling anyone.

  She was thankful that the traffic was light, because she didn’t remember much about the actual drive back to Boise. What she did remember was the yelling, screaming, and crying.

  “Why does he have to be so stubborn?” she had screamed over and over again, sometimes just to fill the deafening silence.

  By the time she had reached the outskirts of Boise, she was numb.

  Who has this kind of day? Only I could wake up, pull a financial rabbit out of a hat, get yelled at by my ex and get yelled at by my…What the hell was he? He wasn’t my boyfriend, it was too quick for that. Lover? No, that’s too gentle for what just happened.

  Oh, forget it! Only I can have this kind of day.

  Somehow she had managed to auto-pilot her way to Walmart. She went in long enough to grab three cartons of the most expensive ice cream she could find and a pair of stretchy pajama pants.

  Once she finally made it to her apartment, she found the pajama pants she had worn the previous two nights stuffed into her bag.

  The nights I was with him.

  She walked the pants out to the dumpster in the corner of the parking lot of her apartment complex, balled the pants as tightly as she could and hurled the wad as hard as she could into the bin. She wanted a crash, a bang, a tremendous explosion - something that would mirror her feelings. Instead she got a whisper-soft pfft.

  Damn trash can.

  She stayed on the couch for three days, making her way through the three cartons of ice cream and watching every sappy chick flick she owned. She knew she was playing out the stereotype of a jilted lover, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t find anything in her soul to care about anything at all. She knew that Greg was furious that she didn’t come in on Monda
y or Tuesday to deliver the report, but she feigned a cold and used her sick time.

  If he wants to fire me for calling in sick, I’ll just beat him to death with the policy manual.

  She knew by Tuesday evening, nothing was going to change. Her phone had not rung, and that was all the evidence she needed to know it had all been a fling. An ill-advised crossing of professional lines.

  I will never make that mistake again.

  By lunch time on Wednesday, her finger hung over the keyboard like the blade of a guillotine. Her hand slowly lowered and her eyes closed on their own. She felt her finger make contact.

  Well, I guess that’s it.

  Greg had been buzzing her office line every 30 minutes since she had shuffled through the door. He wanted his report and made no attempt to hide his impatience. Following his usual pattern, Greg had threatened her job four times and she was so close to the end of her rope that if he threatened to fire her again, she knew she would take him up on the offer.

  Pressing the intercom button, Jennifer buzzed the receptionist.

  “Susan, Greg is going to buzz my line - again - in a few minutes. Will you be kind enough to tell him that the report is in his inbox and that I have gone home sick?”

  I have never craved ice cream so badly in my life.

  “Actually, you can’t leave just yet. You have an appointment. A client called this morning and asked to meet with you today. He is here now. Should I send him back?”

  I swear to God, if Paul walks through that door, there is no way I am not going to jail today.

  “Yeah, send him back,” she said heavily before taking a deep breath and putting on her happy customer service face.

  The man stopped just inside the door, a bouquet of flowers covering his face.

  Jennifer’s neck tingled, and she felt like she’d suddenly become the new home of a thousand butterflies.