After We Fall

by Melanie Harlow

  “But I want to hear about the four orgasms,” I heard Quinn say.

  “They’re not for you, now hush.” There was a pause and some muffled breathing before she spoke again. “OK. Go. Tell me everything.”

  “I will, but first…” I chewed on one knuckle. “Promise you won’t get mad.”

  She sighed. “I’m going to pretend the fourgasm was from someone other than a client. Does that work?”

  “Good idea.” I filled her in on what had happened since I’d last spoken with her, everything from the disastrous meeting—she groaned—to the tree sex—she gasped—to the fourgasm—she sighed.

  “That’s awesome, Gogo. I’m happy for you. I’m also in shock.”

  “Believe me, I am, too.” And I couldn’t even tell her about some of the most shocking things—the bruises on my body, the bite marks on his skin, the scratches on his back. The way I’d begged him to be rough. The way he’d used his size and strength to subdue me. The need in me to explore a different side of myself. The need in him to lose control without fear. That took trust—and somehow we had established it in the short amount of time we’d known each other.

  Maybe that was the biggest surprise of all.

  “So now what?” Jaime asked. “Will you see him again?”

  “God, I hope so. When he left, he said something about catching up with me later.”

  “Why’d he leave so early?” She laughed. “Is he a bolter like I was?”

  “Ha. No, he had to go feed the animals, I think.”

  “I keep forgetting he’s a farmer. You’re fucking a farmer.”

  “I know, and he’s so hot,” I said seriously. “I mean, I don’t know if there are others like him, but women seriously need to start checking out the farmers markets around them just in case.”

  “Hm. Maybe we should tell Claire.”

  “Yes! Do it! What’s she up to this week?”

  “House hunting, actually. I’m supposed to go look at one with her later today.”

  “Any more dates with the hockey player?”

  “Not that I know of. I’ll get the scoop tonight.”

  “That’s right, it’s Girls Night.” I felt a little sad about missing our standing date. “I’m sorry I can’t make it.”

  She burst out laughing. “Shut the fuck up, you are not. And I wouldn’t be either.”

  I grinned. “OK, I’m not.”

  “Just give us all the juicy details when you get back. We’ll forgive you.”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  She sighed. “I better get in the shower. Keep me posted on the work end of things please. I’m going to keep pretending you’re not sleeping with the client, though.”

  Guilt made me cringe a little. “Is there anything else you need me to be working on while I’m up here?”

  “No, don’t worry about it. I have things handled. Take a few days off.”

  “You’re the best.” I blew her a noisy kiss. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up and sat there for a moment, trying to decide if I was tired enough to go back to sleep. But I was wired—I felt like I’d already had six cups of coffee and a bowl of Froot Loops with a sprinkling of cocaine on top. Where was this energy coming from? I couldn’t have gotten more than six hours of sleep, and I usually liked eight. I wondered if Jack was tired or if he felt the same kick I did this morning. Had he slept OK? I remembered how he said he didn’t usually sleep too well. Had being in my bed made it better or worse? He’d seemed happy enough this morning, hadn’t he?

  Finally I decided I was too keyed up to lie around thinking about him. I got up, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and figured I’d head over to the farm and help him out today, or at least make the offer.

  I had to laugh as I tugged on my boots, still caked with mud from the other day. If anyone would have told me I’d be spending a vacation day doing farm chores a year ago—even a month ago—I’d have said they were crazy.

  But everything about me felt different.

  Well…almost everything.

  I still wore the pearl necklace, of course.

  Since it was light out and not too hot, I decided to walk over to the farm. It had stopped raining, but the skies were cloudy and the air was muggy. On my way up the sloped, cottage-lined street toward the highway, I called Ann and was surprised when she answered, since it was still early.

  “Oh, hi, Ann. I was just going to leave you a message and tell you that I’ve decided not to go home early.”

  “Oh good!” she said. “I’m so glad. You survived the little blackout last night?”

  “I certainly did. I lit a candle and had a perfectly enjoyable evening.” Want to hear about my fourgasm?

  “Happy to hear it. You enjoy the rest of your stay, and let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  I crossed the highway right in front of the Valentini house, and saw Georgia come out the front door, coffee cup in her hand.

  “Good morning!” she called from the porch with a wave.

  “Good morning!” I waved back and headed up the gravel path toward her.

  “I saw you crossing the road. What brings you here so early?” She smiled at me over the brim of her mug.

  Damn, what should I say? My cheeks warmed before I could formulate a response. “Uh, I thought I’d offer Jack a hand again.” I gestured over my shoulder in the direction of the lake. “Not much of a beach day.”

  “Nope.” She looked a little amused. “Jack know you’re coming?”

  “No.” I stuck my hands in my jeans pockets. “Truthfully, he might have told me not to bother. Not sure I was that much help the other day.”

  She laughed. “Any extra pair of hands is a help. But why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee first? He doesn’t know you’re coming, so he won’t miss you yet, right?”

  “Right.” I smiled, even though I was kind of anxious to see him. “OK, thanks. Coffee sounds good.” I followed her into the house and down the hall to the kitchen, where Cooper sat on the floor playing with plastic containers and lids.

  I ruffled his curls. “Hey, cutie.”

  “Cream and sugar?” Georgia asked, pouring me a cup.

  “Yes, please.”

  I took a seat at the counter, and she placed a steaming cup of black coffee, a pitcher of cream, and a sugar bowl in front of me. “There you go. Doctor it up.”

  I added some white stuff to my coffee until it was a shade of beige I could handle, and took a sip. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  Holding her cup in two hands, she leaned on her elbows across from me and smiled like the cat that hasn’t eaten the canary yet, but knows where it lives.

  She suspects something.

  Again my face warmed, and I tried to hide the blush behind my coffee cup.

  “I’m not good at keeping secrets,” she blurted.

  “Oh?”

  “No, not when I’m this curious.” She set her cup down and straightened up. “Last night when I came home from work, I noticed Jack’s car wasn’t there. Then this morning I saw him driving home. And I’m just wondering where he might have spent the night.” The glint in her eye told me she had a pretty good idea.

  I shifted in my seat, my eyes dropping to the ivory Formica countertop. “Uh…I’m not really, um, at liberty here to…” Shit! We hadn’t talked about this at all. Did Jack want to keep our little fling a secret?

  “It’s OK.” She held up one hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything specific. Let me just say that yesterday when he came over to apologize, both Pete and I sensed something different about him. He was more relaxed, more willing to listen, less stubborn and crotchety.”

  “Interesting.” I played it cool with a big sip of coffee.

  “It was. Very.” She smiled as she toyed with her cup. “Pete asked him flat out if he’d gotten laid.”

  I swallowed the mouthful of coffee too fast and ended up coughing. “And what did he say?” I asked wh
en I could speak again.

  “He neither confirmed nor denied.”

  Lifting my cup to my lips again, I struggled to keep my expression neutral.

  Her grin was huge. “OK then. Moving on.”

  “Moving on.”

  “Did Jack tell you the exciting news? We’re going ahead with plans for catering and the restaurant—I mean, at least with exploring the options.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said.

  “I’m so excited. And I was thinking, once the new website is in place, I could start blogging about the project.”

  “Perfect! That’s exactly the kind of story to put out there.”

  “Brad is supposed to call us today to tell us if we can get in to see the house this afternoon.” She made a face. “But we usually do the Frankenmuth farmers market on Wednesdays from three to seven, so I’m not sure how that’s going to work. We might have to wait.”

  “Can’t someone else do the market?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not really Jack’s thing, at least it hasn’t been since—”

  The kitchen door swung open and he appeared. My pulse raced. My arms and legs tingled. My stomach was wild with butterflies. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face, especially when I saw his hair. He hadn’t put a hat on, probably because it wasn’t sunny today, and it was still a mess from last night. From my hands.

  I crossed my legs.

  “Hey,” he said, offering a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “What are you doing here?”

  I smiled back. “Thought I’d see if you wanted some help today.”

  “Oh. I came in for some coffee.” He gestured toward the pot but didn’t move, just stood there looking at me with that little smile on his lips.

  Georgia looked back and forth between the two of us. “Can I get you a cup, Jack?”

  “Ah, I got it.” He started for the cupboard but caught sight of Cooper and leaned over to scoop him up. “Hey, buddy!”

  “Pahk!” Cooper said as Jack set him on his arm.

  “You want to go to the park again?” Jack teased. “Aren’t you tired of the park?”

  “Never,” Georgia said. “But no more ice cream when you take him. He refused to eat dinner yesterday.”

  Jack set Cooper down and tweaked his nose. “Don’t worry, buddy. We can sneak the ice cream. That’s what uncles are for.”

  Georgia flicked him on the shoulder as he passed her on his way to the coffee pot. “I was just telling Margot that Brad is trying to get us in to see the Oliver place later today.”

  He muttered something unintelligible as he poured himself some coffee, and Georgia and I exchanged an eyeroll.

  “But there’s a conflict because they’re supposed to do a farmers market somewhere,” I said.

  “Frankenmuth.” Georgia turned to Jack. “From three to seven.”

  “I was thinking, why don’t we do it?” I said brightly. “I’ve never been to a farmers market before, and I’d like to learn more about them.”

  Jack turned around and leaned back on the counter. “No. I don’t like those things.”

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “There are people there,” he said in his grouch voice.

  “Oh, for goodness sake. Of course there are—they’re called customers,” Georgia said. “I think it’s a great idea! You should do it, Jack.”

  He brought his coffee cup to his mouth and mumbled into it before taking a sip.

  “Please?” Setting my cup down, I clasped my hands and gave him my best smile. “I’ll be good.”

  He exhaled, narrowing his eyes at me, but I saw a smile threatening. “I suppose I have to buy you an ice cream, too.”

  I clapped twice. “Yay! Ice cream!”

  “This is great. Thank you,” Georgia said. “I’ll let you know for sure once I talk to Brad.”

  “Let’s just plan on it!” I said excitedly. “No matter what, Jack and I will do it.”

  “Really?” Georgia blinked and looked at her brother-in-law. “That OK with you?”

  “It’s fine.” Jack tipped up the rest of his coffee and set his cup in the sink. “I’d better head back out if I’m only getting half a day in. Is everything ready to go for this afternoon?”

  “No, but I’ll sort, wash, and package this morning, and maybe Margot will give me a hand getting the tables and signage together. That way I can show her how I set up. All you’ll have to do is load the truck.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Anything you need.”

  “OK.” Jack looked at me. “Want to give me a hand with the egg collection before you do that?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have fun, you two,” Georgia chirped, giving me a secret thumbs up while Jack was opening the door for me.

  As we walked toward the coop, my boots sank in the mud, my nostrils were assaulted with the smell of manure, and my anxiety about reaching beneath an angry hen returned. But my heart tripped with excitement for the day ahead.

  Twenty-Three

  Jack

  As soon as we got around the side of the barn, out of sight from the house, I grabbed Margot’s hand, spun her around, and kissed her. Our arms wrapped around each other, our bodies straining to get closer, as if it had been a lot longer than just a few hours since we’d seen each other. She smelled like last night—vanilla and sex.

  Fuck, that’s hot.

  I hadn’t thought of anything but this since I’d left her in bed. I was distracted as hell, too, moving slowly or standing still staring off into space when I was supposed to be getting shit done. “What the hell is with you?” Pete had asked me an hour ago when he found me standing like a statue in the barn, a length of rope in my hand. Oh nothing, just thinking about tying up the nice lady who’s working for us, maybe blindfolding her too. Fucking her mouth. The usual.

  Then when I saw her in the kitchen, my heart had knocked fast and hard against my ribs—a feeling I hadn’t counted on. How long had it been since I’d felt so happy to see someone? She’d looked so pretty sitting there, with her hair off her face and no makeup, a simple white t-shirt. It would be filthy by day’s end, but I didn’t think she’d care.

  “Wow,” she said, coming up for air. “Is this because I said I’d help you with the eggs?”

  “Nope. It’s because I’m glad to see you. And also for the sleep I got last night.”

  Her face lit up. “I was going to ask you. You told me you don’t sleep well the other night.”

  “I don’t, not usually. But last night I did.” I was trying not to think too much about it and simply enjoy the feeling of being well-rested. If I let my mind dwell on the why behind the what, I’d have to ask myself some questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

  “That makes me happy.” She bounced on her toes.

  I kissed her again, slow and soft this time, wanting to stretch out this moment in time as far as it would go. But when my hands started to wander and the crotch of my pants grew tight, I figured we’d better stop. “I’d much rather do this than work today, but I should probably get some things done before we have to leave.”

  She smiled. “I’m all yours. Put me to work.”

  Margot was still hopeless at gathering eggs (“I can’t take that one under the hen…it seems personal, like she really wants to keep it.”), but she remembered lessons from the other day and definitely worked faster. After that, Pete and I went out to check the fences and Margot stayed with Georgia to get things ready for the market. I hadn’t done one in years, and when I had, Steph had been there to make everything look nice. Hopefully Margot would remember everything Georgia told her.

  Just before noon, we loaded everything in the truck—including a picnic basket Georgia had packed for our lunch—and set off for Frankenmuth. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked her as we headed west. The sun was just starting to shine through the clouds, and it looked like we’d have good weather, which always meant a better turnout.
<
br />   “Oh, I like whatever.”

  “Whatever, huh?” I played with the radio to see what stations would come in. “We’ll see what we can find, but this truck is old and completely lacking in frills, like, say, a Mercedes.”

  She poked me in the ribs. “My Mercedes is from 1972. Frills as we know it weren’t really an option then.”

  “True. And who needs ’em, anyway?” I turned up the radio and rolled down the windows, since the A/C didn’t work. “Scratchy Hank Williams in a beat-up Chevy truck, driving down a back road, wind in your hair…” I thumped her on the leg and drawled, “It don’t get more country than that, sweetheart.”

  She laughed and threw her head back. “Yeehaw!”

  I laughed too. I hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

  We arrived at the pavilion around one-thirty, located our vendor spot, and unloaded the truck. Margot gamely did a bunch of the heavy lifting, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the crook of her elbow, and began setting up once we had everything ready.

  “I can do that,” I told her as she struggled to get a stubborn table leg unfolded.

  She straightened up, blew a wayward piece of hair out of her face, and gave me a dirty look. “I’m not totally helpless, Jack. I can handle a folding table.”

  “OK, OK.” I turned away from her to hide a smile as I unpacked the scale.

  When the tablecloths were on and the displays done exactly how Georgia had specified, Margot stood back and eyed it critically. “I wish we had some different levels on the table. And more depth.”

  I frowned. “Depth?”

  “Yes. I love the different-sized baskets on the ground and the old barrels. But on the actual tables, I think we could use something more.” She tapped her chin with one finger. “The banner needs to be redone once you have your new logo, and we should also get it on the tablecloth front. I’d like to see it be a little modern and a little old-fashioned at the same time. On-trend but authentic.”

  “What difference does it make? Shouldn’t the quality of the product be what attracts people?”

  She smiled indulgently at me. “That will bring them back. But look at how many people are setting up here right now. How are you going to stand out? People make decisions about first impressions in under a second, Jack. You need to catch their eye with something visually stunning. Lure them in.”