by Zoe York
“Is it always this much fun to have sex with you?” he asked bluntly.
“What?!” she yelped, caught off guard by the question.
“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much in bed before. I was just curious if sex is always like this for you.”
Her mind flashed back to the humiliation, the negativity, the assessments of her body, and how she never lived up to the standards of a real woman.
“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed in bed before,” she said seriously. “I’m trying to remember a time, and…no. I haven’t.”
His eyes were serious even as he said lightly, “Well, let’s start breaking some records together, shall we? Have you ever come twice while having sex with a guy?”
She blew out a startled laugh. “I was lucky if I came once,” she said dryly. “Twice…never.”
“I think that’s something we oughta change,” he said with a naughty grin.
And then he set about doing just that.
Chapter 34
Stetson
He rolled over, his nose leading him before his brain could even begin to register anything. There was the most delicious perfume in the air…
And then he was snuggled against something warm and amazingly soft and his eyes popped open. “What the—” he rasped out, before his brain finally caught up with the rest of him.
Oh. Right. He was in bed, like always, but this time, there was a Jennifer Kendall in bed with him.
Which was not like always.
Her face was slack and open and trusting, deeply asleep, and he took the opportunity to study her without her blushing or trying to change the subject or, heaven forbid, walking away. Her long, thick eyelashes laid like little miniature fans against her cheeks, hiding the brilliance of the green eyes underneath. He swallowed hard. He was honestly glad to have those hidden from him, at least for the moment. They flustered him so much, it was hard to think when they were trained on him.
Not, of course, that he’d admit that out loud to her. She was brave enough to open up a little to him last night, and he could only admire that bravery, without actually being ready to mimic it himself. He’d opened up to a female before, and even if this one was more beautiful and more happy and more open than the last female, it still didn’t mean he could entirely trust her.
Trust was a hard-won thing in his world.
His eyes skimmed over her pert nose and small chin, down to her collarbone, then dipping down to her delicious tits.
He’d meant every word that he’d said the night before, of course – lying to a woman never turned out well, in his experience – and the sight of the pink tips, soft and plump, were hard to ignore. He licked his lips, forcing himself not to lock his mouth around her nipples. She was dead asleep and probably wouldn’t appreciate a horny cowboy forcing himself on her first thing in the morning.
He pushed himself out of bed and into the shower. She needed her sleep – he’d quite happily kept her up most of the night – so he’d best get some work done and leave her the hell alone. She could come downstairs when she was ready, and not a minute before.
Chapter 35
Jennifer
Jennifer jackknifed straight up, her heart tripping into overtime, panic gripping her. She was alone. Why did that scare her? She was always alone. But she shouldn’t be alone today. It was wrong, somehow. And she certainly shouldn’t be alone in a weird room. Whose room…? She looked wildly around, completely disoriented. Nothing looked familiar. Where was she?
It took her a few seconds to register what she was feeling – she was feeling empty sheets. She’d expected to find a sleeping man next to her and instead she found…nothing.
Oh.
She was in Stetson’s room.
By herself.
Stetson had left her.
Not again. Something’s wrong. Panic pulsed through her, making it hard to concentrate. Maybe…maybe it just meant more to me than it did him. I’ve been through this before. It’s going to be okay. It was fun, but this is just one of those things, right?
She dressed quickly in Stetson’s t-shirt and shorts that she’d commandeered as her PJs and headed down the stairs. She had to apologize for her lack of professionalism to both Stetson and Carmelita, keep her head up the whole time, and then get a ride back to town. Maybe Carmelita would drive her. She could re-rent her old room at the Drop-Inn Motel, and just ignore the strange looks that Margaret would give her.
Then she could beat herself up, in the privacy of the dingy motel room.
Don’t let him know it hurt. That gives him all the power.
She could totally pretend she was fine. Totally.
When she reached the base of the stairs, she could hear voices drifting through from the kitchen.
“…her that I have some chores to do? I’ll be back in a little while. I’m going to take her on a tour of the farm this morning, now that she has some real clothes to wear.”
Jennifer paused outside of the doorway to the kitchen, plastering herself up against the hallway wall. She felt ridiculous for hiding from Stetson and Carmelita, but as she listened to them chit-chat and then heard the back door open and close behind Stetson, she felt even more ridiculous for her reaction to waking up alone.
C’mon, Jennifer, think about it. Stetson wouldn’t lie to Carmelita about something like going out to do chores. Of course he has chores to do. He’s a farmer, for heaven’s sake.
Which made a lot more sense than he was trying to leave her because he didn’t think her tits were big enough.
She shoved her hands through her hair and scrubbed at her eyes. Now that her brain was functioning a little better, she could laugh at her lizard-brain reaction to waking up by herself. She wasn’t sure what it meant, that that was where her brain leapt to first.
Nothing good, she was sure.
She took a few deep breaths, pushing the panic down. She felt her heart rate slow, and her muscles unclench. She was fine.
A little more relaxed, she put her shoulders back and walked into the kitchen with a big smile planted firmly on her lips, letting out a yawn that she politely hid behind her hand. “Good morning, Carmelita,” she said around her yawn.
But now that her first blush of panic had disappeared, she found that a second wave was right on its heels, but this time, it was centered on the housekeeper.
How much did Carmelita know? How much did she guess? This was like trying to sneak around with a boyfriend in high school. She hadn’t been good at it in high school, and she had a sinking suspicion she wasn’t any better at it now.
For the first time, Jennifer could see a downside to having a live-in housekeeper – okay, one who lived in a cottage close by but was in the house all the time – who could spear you with one glance.
But instead of a blistering stare, Carmelita looked up from the frying pan with a huge smile playing around her lips that she was trying – unsuccessfully – to suppress. “Good morning, Jennifer. Stetson went outside to do some chores; he will be back soon,” she said, deftly flipping the bacon over without splattering grease like Jennifer always did, and then she slipped the grease splatter shield back in place over the cast-iron pan. “Did you sleep well?”
If Carmelita had white hair and a white beard – okay, and was male – she’d totally look like Santa Clause in that moment. Her eyes were twinkling with delight, and she seemed entirely too pleased with last night’s activities.
Jennifer opened her mouth to demand how it was that Carmelita knew she’d spent the night in Stetson’s bed, and then thought better of it. Some things were better left unknown.
“Uhhh…yes,” she finally said, realizing she hadn’t yet answered Carmelita’s question. Jennifer stole another look at the grandmotherly woman, trying to decide if she was genuinely asking if she’d slept well, or if she wanted an actual report on what it was like to sleep with Stetson.
She wasn’t sure if she could share deets like that with Carmelita. It just seemed wrong on
so many levels.
But Carma just nodded her head, accepting Jennifer’s terse answer, and set about serving up breakfast, which was, as usual, enough food to feed two Stetsons, and at least five Jennifers.
Jennifer promised herself that she’d do extra cardio down at the gym when she got back to Boise. But until then, do as the Romans do, right?
She dug into her waffles with gusto, chugging a bit of Carma’s delicious coffee between bites. Something about sleeping with Stetson last night had completely rocked her world, and she didn’t feel like she was on an even keel this morning. She was off-balance; prone to freaking out over absolutely nothing at all.
Coffee could only help this morning. Having a panic attack when still trying to wake up was not the premier start to her morning that she’d been hoping for.
“Stetson says he is going to take you on a tour of the farm today,” Carmelita said as she began rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher.
“Yeah, he offered the other day but…well, I didn’t exactly come equipped with the right clothing for a ride on a four-wheeler, so we went shopping at Frank’s yesterday to buy me some country clothing.”
“Country clothing for a city girl, eh?” Carma said with a grin over her shoulder at Jennifer. “You better watch out. We will make you into a cowgirl yet.”
“As long as I don’t have to like country music, I can live with that,” Jennifer said with a laugh. “I may be an Idaho girl, but I’m starting to realize that there’s a world of difference between Boise and Sawyer. It’s hard to believe that we’re in the same country, let alone the same state.”
“Oh, you have only just begun to see,” Carmelita said with a teasing laugh. “Just wait until you realize how big this farm is. City people with their city lots – an acre seems large to them. There is nothing like a farm spread in a city.”
Jennifer nodded politely, taking another bite of her food rather than saying anything in response to that comment. It was a ridiculous thing for Carmelita to say, of course – Jennifer knew exactly how big the farm was. The acreage was on the operating loan. If need be, she could state how many acres were being used for pasture versus how many were being planted in row crops. She knew how many cows Stetson had, and how many water shares the farm came with.
But still, it wasn’t polite to rattle off numbers and show off, especially not to someone her senior, so she kept those facts to herself.
And, as she reminded herself, maybe she’d find something on this tour that wasn’t on the paperwork; that could be sold to make the balloon payment.
It was only right that as the accountant on the case, she stay focused on what really mattered – saving the Miller Family Farm. Kissing and sex and licking nipples like strawberry ice cream could come later.
Right now, she had a job to do.
Chapter 36
Stetson
He checked his watch again. It was 8:33, two minutes after he’d last checked his watch. Was it too early to expect Jennifer to be up? It was a Saturday, plus he had kept her up half the night.
Yeah, it was much too early.
He stared at the haystack in front of him, trying to focus. He needed to calculate how much of his second-cutting hay was left. Then he’d know if he needed to buy some hay to supplement his own supply before winter hit.
He started walking as he thought, and before he realized it, he was climbing the front porch steps of the farmhouse and not at all counting hay bales like he was supposed to be.
Whoops.
Well, he could force himself to go back to the haystack and start counting – this time for real – but even as he thought it, his hand reached out to open up the front door. After all, there was no point in going all the way back without first at least checking to see if Jennifer was awake. Then after he verified that she was still in bed, he could go back to work.
He thought about the joyful grin that Carmelita had given him this morning, eyes sparkling as she’d asked him – bluntly – if he’d slept well last night. She looked like she’d just been given the present of a lifetime. He’d wanted to ask her how she knew, and then had stopped himself. There were some things that were better left unknown.
Not to mention that discussing his sex life with Carmelita just gave him the heebie-jeebies. One time, in high school, she’d asked him if he had rubbers while staring at the far wall over his shoulder, and it’d taken him a minute to realize that she was asking about condoms.
That conversation officially went down on record as the most awkward conversation ever held between the two of them, and he could only hope something like it was never repeated again.
“…after that, I told her that she could cook her own meals,” Carmelita said as he walked into the kitchen.
“Who could cook their own meals?” Stetson asked, grabbing his coffee mug from breakfast that morning and refilling it. He leaned casually against the counter, trying to study Jennifer without being overly obvious about it, and failing miserably. Her hair was mussed, she still had no bra on, and his t-shirt and shorts still never looked better than they did in that moment.
But this morning’s disheveled look came courtesy of him, and he felt his dick springing to attention with pride over that fact.
Down, boy, down. Springing a boner in front of Carmelita is not a good idea.
“That Michelle woman.”
Stetson tore his eyes away from Jennifer’s legs and the memory of them wrapped around him last night long enough to look at his housekeeper. “My ex? When did you tell her to make her own meals?” Inwardly, he couldn’t help chuckling a little at the phrase “that Michelle woman.” He’d dated her for six months and was engaged to her another two years after that, but Michelle and Carmelita had gotten along like oil and water. Carmelita had threatened to wear all black to the wedding, although in the end, she’d shown up in a black-and-white dress instead.
He figured that was quite the restraint, considering. And not a single I-told-you-so when Michelle hadn’t bothered to show up at all.
That had required even more restraint.
“When she told me not to include so many carbohydrates in my dinners. She wanted me to cook a meal without a potato in it.” Carmelita sniffed her indignation. “I told her that we live in Idaho, but she did not think that this mattered. Güera.”
Stetson tried to repress the grin he felt threatening to erupt across his face, but he was totally losing that battle. Güera…he’d asked Carmelita a long time ago what that meant. She’d told him it meant someone who didn’t understand anything outside of her own little view on the world.
If anyone deserved the nickname of güera, it was definitely Michelle.
Turning to Stetson, Jennifer shook her head mock seriously. “You were engaged to a woman who did not understand the sanctity of the potato? Some days, I’m not even sure who you are.”
He shook his head, trying to glare at her for egging Carma on, but mostly just laughing. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, trying to ignore that comment. His eyes swept down her legs and back up again. “You appear ready for a pajama party, not a tour of a farm,” he added dryly.
“I’ll hurry!” she promised, jumping out of her chair. “We got sidetracked, swapping war stories. Sometime, you’ll have to tell me what you saw in this Michelle.”
Stetson opened his mouth to ask his housekeeper exactly which tales she’d shared when someone pounded on the front door, loud and angry. Everyone froze, staring at each other. Just moments later, the knocking came again, even louder this time.
“I think you should answer it before they knock the door down,” Carmelita said, worry drawing her eyebrows together. “Maybe someone is hurt. Your brothers?”
Stetson hurried to the front door, his boots echoing on the oak floors as he practically ran through the house. What if Declan had gotten in a car wreck? Hit a deer? Was dead, just like their mother?
He yanked the door open, heart pounding, only to find a shorter, balding man standing on the
porch, his hand raised in the air, ready to knock a third time. Stetson jerked his head back, staring down at the man. He didn’t recognize him, and the man didn’t have an official uniform on, which likely meant he wasn’t an EMT or cop, come to give him bad news.
So why the hell was he here?
Just as he was opening his mouth to ask that, the man puffed up his chest and announced regally, “I am here for Jennifer Kendall.”
“Paul?” came Jennifer’s voice from behind Stetson.
Chapter 37
Jennifer
Jennifer slipped underneath Stetson’s arm, propped up in the corner of the doorway, to stand on the front porch and glare at her ex-fiancé. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Paul’s eyes followed her form up and down, making her feel like she’d just taken a bath in used motor oil, before he finally spat out, “Is this how you dress at a client’s house?”
“This is how I dress on a Saturday morning. I repeat – what are you doing here?”
“Well, after I called and texted you – multiple times, I might add – and you didn’t answer, other than those few rude texts that I just couldn’t believe were coming from you, I decided to come up here and talk to you in person. I guess your overgrown ape here is the one who’d been sending those awful texts to me? Cell phone conversations are private, you know,” he said, glaring up over Jennifer’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t be reading her texts, let alone replying on her behalf—”
“As happy as it makes me that you understand and believe in a woman’s right to talk to whomever she pleases,” Jennifer cut in, trying to keep the sarcasm from dripping too much off her tongue, “you should know that Stetson has never so much as touched my phone. Unlike other people, he doesn’t think that I’m going to cheat on him every time he leaves the room.”