After We Fall
Page 7
“Yeah. She loved her boots. She said she wasn’t a heels type of girl in real life and didn’t need to be one on her wedding day.” I could still hear her proclaiming it with no apology in her voice.
Margot nodded. “I’m a heels type of girl.”
“You don’t say.”
“But everybody should be free to be who they are on their wedding day. I love that she wasn’t afraid to be herself.”
“She wasn’t afraid of anything.” In general, I wasn’t the kind of guy who opened up to people I didn’t know. Or to people I did. But it felt good to talk about Steph in front of Margot. It felt safe.
“You don’t look too bad yourself here. You wore boots too, I see.”
“Yeah, I’m not much for fancy shoes. Or clothes. But Steph said I had to wear the suit.”
“You wore it well.”
“Thanks.”
A beat went by. “I was sorry to hear about what happened.” She kept staring at the picture. “You must miss her.”
“Yeah. I do.”
She sighed and turned around. “Well, I guess I better go get changed.”
Nodding, I opened the door again, and as she went by me, her shoulder brushed my bare chest. Gooseflesh rippled down my arms, and my nipples puckered. Quickly, I shut the screen door in front of me before giving her directions. “Head for those trees straight ahead and stay on the path that runs through them. You’ll see the house on the other side.”
“Got it.” She started down the steps.
“And be careful crossing the highway.”
At the bottom of the steps, she stopped and looked back at me. “I will. Promise.”
She took off running at a decent pace, and I tried not to look at her butt.
I had a feeling I’d be fighting that battle all damn day.
Ten
Margot
I hurried back to the cottage, more excited than I should have been about the day ahead. For heaven’s sake—Jack and I could hardly spend five minutes together without getting on each other’s nerves. But something about this felt like a victory to me.
I’d blown up at him by mistake—my plan had been to kill him with kindness, but instead I’d spied on him before calling him moody and uncooperative. But he was so frustrating! I was trying to help him!
The strange thing was, he hadn’t seemed that angry about the whole tree incident. In fact, he’d seemed almost amused by the whole thing—I could’ve sworn I almost saw him smile at one point.
Why that had me grinning I had no idea.
Inside the cottage, I peeled off my damp running clothes and decided, in the interest of saving time, not to shower. I didn’t want Jack to use tardiness as an excuse not to show me around today, and it’s not like I had to worry about him getting close. I’d never met a man so uncomfortable being next to me. He was always backing up or moving away, crossing his arms over his chest.
I pulled on fresh underwear and socks, my skinny jeans and a plaid button-down, and tugged the elastic from my ponytail. In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth, braided my hair and unzipped my makeup bag.
Then I caught myself.
What are you doing, Margot? This isn’t a date. You don’t need mascara in a barn.
I zipped it back up, but I did put on my pearl necklace…and a spritz of perfume.
A girl’s got to have a hint of pretty, right?
Right before I left, I yanked on my old riding boots, thankful I hadn’t given them away. They were beautiful brown leather, and still had plenty of wear left.
I raced out the door just fifteen minutes after I rushed in, and headed out to the car, pleased with myself. Not only would I learn more about the farm, which would help me do my job, but I’d get the chance to prove to Jack that I wasn’t the enemy. I respected his work and honestly wanted to help. And if it made him look at me in a more favorable light, well…so much the better.
I was determined to make him smile for real.
Eleven
Jack
“Are you sure about this?” Margot peeked into the first nesting box, where three eggs sat in the hay.
“Yes. You just reach in, take the eggs, and put them in your basket.” I’d thought gathering eggs might be an easy place for her to start, but Christ Almighty, I was beginning to wonder if even that was too much for her. She was such a city girl—although she did look cute in her tight jeans and little plaid shirt, and I liked the way she wore her hair in one long braid down her back. Her boots were hilarious, though—some sort of equestrian riding boots that looked like they belonged in a movie about a rich girl who has her own show pony. At least she hadn’t put makeup on.
But believe it or not, she had put on the pearl necklace.
It was killing me.
“Come on,” I prodded, annoyed more with myself than her. “Get the eggs, we have work to do.”
“Won’t they get mad?” She looked around the coop, nervously eyeing the hens about our feet.
“No. They’re used to it.”
“OK.” She reached in and took out two eggs, then laid them gently in the basket. “I did it!” she said, smiling proudly.
I nearly smiled back before I caught myself. “Good job. Now keep going. Or we’re going to be here all day.”
She took the third one out, gingerly placed it next to the others and studied them. “So do the brown chickens lay the brown eggs and the white ones the white eggs?”
“No. You can tell what color eggs a chicken will lay by the color of her ears.”
Her eyes bugged. “No way!”
“Yes. Now come on, work faster. Like this.” I reached into the next box, quickly pulled three eggs out with one hand, put them in the basket, and moved on to another.
“Wow, you’re really good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice. Now you do the next one.”
She moved in front of me, bent over, and looked into the box. “There’s somebody in there.”
“So reach beneath her and take the eggs.” I struggled to keep my eyes off her ass.
“I don’t think I should. She’s giving me the evil eye.”
“Jesus Christ. Move, I’ll do the rest.” I took her by the waist and swung her to the side to get her out of my way, but once I had my hands on her, I didn’t want to let go.
And I’m a fucking weak-willed asshole, so I didn’t.
I left them there a couple seconds too long.
“Jack?” She looked at me over her shoulder, her expression confused.
I dropped my hands.
What the fuck are you doing?
“Just give me the basket,” I ordered roughly, yanking it from her hand.
She turned around. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” I angled away from her and started grabbing the remaining eggs, angry with myself.
This was a bad idea.
It was a long day.
As I’d suspected, Margot was clueless about everything and had a thousand ridiculous questions.
“So you don’t milk a male cow?”
“Why do you need an electric fence?”
“How big is an acre?”
“Are those goats?”
“What’s a CSA?”
“Why do you have to rotate crops?”
“Isn’t it weird to butcher an animal you spent all that time raising? Do you ever want to keep the cute ones?”
“So chickens lay eggs from their butts?”
I did my best to answer her questions, figuring the more she realized she didn’t know, the more likely it would be that she might decide she couldn’t help. But she learned fast, and by late afternoon, her questions grew more thoughtful, her hands steadier, her pace quicker. I found myself admiring her curiosity about the farm, her willingness to tackle any job I gave her, and the fact that she never once complained about the sun or the heat or the smell or the dirt lodged under her fingernails and caked on her fancy boots.
But the worst thing was the way I ke
Finally, I had to admit that for the first time since Steph died, I was seriously attracted to a woman.
It was almost a relief.
I wasn’t happy about it, but logically, I knew it was just a biological urge and I shouldn’t be too hard on myself, especially since her presence here was temporary. And who wouldn’t be attracted to Margot? She was beautiful, smart, and kind. And aside from her ignorance about life outside the bubble she lived in, she was nice to be around. She could laugh at herself, tried again if she failed at something the first time, and was actually really good with the horses. I wondered if she’d had experience with them.
“Do you ride?” I asked her when we were in the barn at the end of the day.
“I had a horse growing up,” she said, stroking the neck of the mare I’d been concerned about yesterday.
“Of course you did. Rich girl.” I couldn’t resist giving that braid a tug. What I really wanted to do was wrap it around my fist. Yank her head back. Kiss her neck.
Fuck. Stop it.
“Hey,” she said, pouting. “None of that. I did everything you asked today, didn’t I?” She looked so hopeful, a smudge of dirt on her sweaty forehead, I didn’t have the heart to shoot her down.
“You did fine,” I told her, giving the horse’s nose a little rub, trying to keep my hands busy. But my dick was swelling in my pants, as if owning up to my attraction for her had woken a sleeping beast. And the voice in my head would not stay quiet. I’d like to give you a little rub—right between the legs with my tongue.
“Thank you. And thank you for taking me around today. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” How’d you like to appreciate my big hard cock in your pussy?
“And look!” She laughed. “I got my hands dirty!”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see.” I grabbed her wrists and turned up her palms between us, examining them. “Well, look at that. They’re filthy.”
She giggled. “All of me is filthy. I can’t wait to take a hot…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at my fingers circling her wrists. Then she looked up at me. Those blue eyes wide. Those pink lips open. That pale white throat beckoning.
I knew what I was going to do before I did it.
I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I’d regret it.
And I still did it.
Heart pounding in my chest, I pulled her forward by the wrists until her mouth was so close I felt her breath on my lips.
And I kissed her—lightly at first, my lips barely resting on hers, and then harder, my mouth opening, my hands sliding around her back, over her ass. I pulled her in tight against my hips, my erection trapped between us.
She looped her arms around my waist and rose up on tiptoe, pressing her chest to mine. Our tongues met and I tasted her hungrily, like I’d never get enough. It actually reminded me of the time Pete and I ate all the vanilla ice cream our mom had bought for Brad’s tenth birthday the day before his party. We knew we shouldn’t and we were bound to get caught and punished, but damn if it didn’t taste so good we couldn’t stop. Margot tasted like that—sweet and forbidden at the same time.
Just let me have this, I thought as my conscience pricked. Just this once.
I wound her braid around one hand and pulled her head back, moving my mouth down her throat. I inhaled the scent of her skin, reveled in the velvety feel of it beneath my lips, the salty sweet taste. Slipping one thigh between her legs, I ran my tongue along the pearls resting against her neck. Her fingers dug into my back.
“Jack,” she whispered.
My name—whispered by another woman.
The wrong woman.
This isn’t right.
Get away from her.
Twelve
Margot
He was kissing me like I’d never been kissed before.
Like he was going to war. Like he didn’t care about breathing. Like something in him needed something in me so desperately, he had to find it or die trying.
Not that I wasn’t willing to give it up. At that moment, I’d have flung my panties across the barn like a scone at a political fundraiser.
He was so different from any man I’d ever kissed—everything about him exuded strength and raw masculinity. His chest was so broad, his arms so muscular, his cock so hard, his mouth so commanding as it moved down my throat. It was intoxicating. I’d have let him do anything he wanted to me, just to experience being at the mercy of such power.
Jesus Christ, where did this come from?
I’d sensed him warming toward me throughout the day, and there had been that electric moment in the chicken coop when he’d put his hands on me, but this… This.
He shifted my body so I straddled his thigh, pulled my head back and ran his tongue along the strand of pearls at the base of my neck. My clit pulsed. My hands flexed on his back.
Oh my God.
Oh my God, I’m going to have an orgasm. In a barn. With a farmer. Who I met yesterday.
And it’s going to be SO. GOOD.
I whispered his name…and he pushed me away.
As if hearing his name had signaled the end of a scene we were filming, he put his hands on my shoulders and stepped back, separating us.
We stared at each other in silence, both of our chests rising and falling with rapid breaths. His eyes were clouded with something I couldn’t read—I saw desire there, but pain too.
He dropped his hands. “You should go.”
“Jack, please, can’t we—”
“Go!” He roared, putting his hands on his head. “Just get the fuck out of here, Margot! Now!”
Hurt and confused, I turned and ran from the barn across the yard, tears burning my eyes. I cut a wide berth around the house, hoping Pete and Georgia wouldn’t see me, and darted out to the road where I’d parked. When I reached the safety of my car without being seen, I pulled the door shut and collapsed against the steering wheel.
A few tears spilled over, and I wiped at them with my filthy hands, angry I was this upset over a stupid kiss. “Fuck you, Jack Valentini. I was right about you to begin with. You’re nothing but a foul-mannered jerk.”
So what if he was handsome underneath that scruff and dirt? So what if he had a big, broken heart somewhere inside that massive chest? So what if he had a big dick and probably knew how to use it?
He was an asshole.
And he was a client.
But that kiss…that kiss.
Why did the best kiss I’d ever had have to be with him?
“Dammit!” I banged my head against the steering wheel a few times, then pulled myself together.
In my purse, I found a handkerchief and dabbed at my eyes and nose, dismayed by the amount of dirt that came off my face. I stared at it, noticing how the embroidered navy blue M of my monogram was beginning to fray. Tossing the soiled linen aside, I started the car and drove back to the cottage, berating myself the whole way.
What the hell had I been thinking? It didn’t matter what he looked like naked or how he kissed or why he’d pushed me away. I worked for him, and that was a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.
He probably realized that too. You should be glad he came to his senses before you started flinging your panties around.
Back at the cottage, I took a long, punishingly hot shower, vowing to put Jack out of my mind and concentrate on the work that needed to be done. I had a meeting with Pete and Brad and Georgia tomorrow, and I wanted to go in prepared. More than prepared—if Jack said anything to them about my less-than-professional behavior, I had to counter that with proof I was good at my job.
When I was finally clean, I put on my pajamas, pulled from the freezer a pitiful frozen lasagna that probably came off an assembly line six years ago, and opened a bottle of wine. While I waited for the lasagna to heat up in the microwave, I called Jaime.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Great.” I forced myself to be cheerful. “I’m fired up. I’ve got lots of ideas.”
“Awesome. Hit me.”
I told her about some of the ideas I had—beyond the obvious ones like creating a logo, revamping the website, and using social media, I described agritourism and why I thought it would work for them. “I’ve done the research and there aren’t that many places around here offering unique experiences…I’m going to talk with Pete and Georgia tomorrow about the possibilities of a small restaurant on site with a chef’s table, cooking classes, weddings and other special events. I think their place could be a real destination.”
“Sounds great. What about the grouch? He gonna go for all that?”
I sighed as I pulled the lasagna from the microwave. It was still frozen in the center but bubbling at the edges. “Nope. Probably none of it.”
“Ugh, what a pain. Can you work around him?”
“Who knows? He basically told me earlier he doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t involve him. Of course, he might have been mad because I saw him naked.”
“Excuse me?”
While I nuked the lasagna some more, I told her what had happened this morning, and she laughed.
“What’s going on with you, anyway? For thirty years, you’ve lived this perfect, well-mannered life and now you’re throwing scones and climbing trees to spy on naked men.”
Pulling the entree out again, I stabbed at the lasagna, now burnt at the edges. “Maybe I’m tired of behaving properly all the time. I’m experimenting with letting my gut take over.”
“I heartily applaud this experiment. You’ve always been way too well-behaved. Have some fun. Throw scones. Spy on naked men. Do more than that if you want.”
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