This time as I walk through the house I actually get to see it. And it’s really nice. Cozy and comfortable. Far more lived in and warm than the white and stark steel that Tyler insisted for our apartment. And it isn’t cluttered and dated like my parents’ house. It’s just…nice. It’s missing some plants, but that’s an easy addition.
As I grab my boots I spot one in the kitchen window. It’s very, very dead. I laugh. At least he tried.
The early morning is cold and crisp in that rare way that you can only get in the dead of winter. I love that feeling of cold going directly into my lungs and waking me up.
I stand on the porch for a moment and consider going back inside. I could. He would never know that I was gone. And then I step off the porch and make my way across the field toward home.
* * *
The next few days seem like a blur. I help with breakfast in the mornings and I take walks in the afternoon—never in the direction of the Bowman farm. Mostly I’m by myself. And that’s okay. Mom and Jessica will inevitably try to bring up Tyler and steer me toward taking him back. Rhett and the kids are friendly, but we don’t have much to talk about. And Dad is Dad, constantly moving, like always.
I’m putting away some dishes from the breakfast table on the fourth day since my night with Casey when my dad appears in the kitchen. “Want to come to the store with me, Carley? I have a few things to pick up.”
“I’m okay,” I say softly.
He smiles. “I phrased it like a question, but it wasn’t. Time for you to run the gossip gauntlet.”
I roll my eyes.
“Seriously,” he says. “Go get your coat.”
“Okay.”
My mom calls after me from the kitchen. “You can pick up some things for me. I’ll let you know what. Take your phone with you.”
I don’t answer or ask why she wouldn’t just ask dad since he’s the one going in the first place. I just get my coat and boots—and grudgingly my phone—and follow my dad out to his truck.
“Why’d you really bring me out here?”
He laughs as he starts the truck. “You don’t think I’ve seen you taking walks for hours just to avoid everyone? It was about time you got out of the house.”
I shake my head. My father is more observant than people give him credit for.
“How’s your job?”
“It’s okay. It was nice of them to give me this much time off, but I like working there.”
“What kind of arrangements do you all specialize in?”
My father grows flowers for a living, so I know this is partially professional curiosity. But it’s also his way of asking about my life without asking me about Tyler. He’s been careful not to talk about it. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t care, but because he can see how much it hurts to talk about.
“Honestly we do a little of everything. But a lot of wedding arrangements. Funerals too. Events. The nice thing about Chicago is that there are a lot of super interesting events all the time. Some of them ask for floral sculptures or succulent planters. Nothing is ever the same.”
“That sounds fun. Do you get to work on those more? Or are you more on the gardening side?”
I think about it. “For me it’s about half and half. I do arranging, but part of the reason they hired me is because I already knew so much about plants and flowers.”
Dad smiles. It makes him happy when any of us can use the things that he taught us. “I’m glad. But I have to ask, have you ever thought about doing something else? Something from school?”
Tension springs up in my stomach. Basically the same question that Casey asked me—that I avoided entirely with a blowjob. I don’t know. The place where I used to have goals and dreams feels…flat and empty. School was a blur that was filled with Tyler. I was taken with him. Enamored by him. And I somehow graduated with an English degree. But from the moment I met him, everything was about him. Always.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” he says. “You’re a smart girl, Carley. You make good decisions, and you can figure out what you want from life—no matter what other people tell you.”
I appreciate the subtle support, but I’m still not certain. Am I able to figure it out? It only took me seven years to figure out that being with Tyler was a mistake. That doesn’t exactly give me a great track record.
My phone buzzes.
Get apples. Only green ones. We’re making a pie.
From my mother.
Noted.
Pulling up to the general store is entirely overwhelming. There are so many memories here. After school excursions and shopping for my favorite meals. I even spent a summer as a cashier here, so I know the store backwards and forwards.
And as soon as I walk in, I’m bombarded. The first person that sees me is someone that I don’t even know. And that’s saying something given how long my family has lived here. An older woman. “Oh my goodness, Carley Farrell. I was starting to think that we’d never see you around here again.”
I smile. “Here I am.”
“I can see that. Hoo, the things that I’ve heard about your adventures in New York? Amazing.”
“Chicago, actually.”
She waves a hand. “A city is a city. How’s that big city husband of yours.”
My lungs freeze. “I’m not married. Never have been.”
The woman laughs. “Well then, gossip has been getting around!”
My phone buzzes.
Pick up some bread, we’ll need it for sandwiches.
My dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to have her back, Elain. But we’ve got to do our shopping. You know how it is.” He shrugs in his charming manner and pulls me away from her.
“Thanks.”
He chuckles softly. “Don’t thank me yet.”
He’s right. The store is busy. I hadn’t even realized that it’s the weekend, and there are plenty of people that see me and talk to me. Most I recognize, some I don’t. But I run the gauntlet. Everyone wants to know the truth of what they’ve heard going around town, and somehow I manage to get through it without giving too much away.
But the things I hear are truly legendary. I hear at least one outlandish story from each person; from broken combines to a herd of chickens that literally got stuck crossing the road and spurred a whole host of chicken jokes. The one thing that makes me suddenly snap to true attention is the little tidbit that, ‘Did I hear that Casey Bowman is taking Megan Gingham to Firework Night?’
I react a little too strongly to that, and get some looks, including from my dad. I’m saved by the next buzz of my phone.
Please tell your father to hurry back.
There’s more gossip and more shopping and three more text messages asking for additional things to add to the list before my father interrupts the conversation.
“Speaking of the fireworks, we’d better get back to working on the farm?”
Everyone laughs at that. It’s common knowledge that my dad likes to pretend that he’s the one that puts on the show all by himself. It is the Farrell Farms Fireworks, after all. But in reality, he hands out the sparklers and has a good time just like everyone else on Firework Night, and the professional team that the town hires does the heavy lifting. We’re just the venue.
But it does the trick. We manage to extricate ourselves, check out, and make it back to the truck. It’s only been an hour and a half, and I’m exhausted from the sheer amount of information that was thrown at me. But I actually enjoyed hearing about the town—even if the stories were exaggerated. Mom never tells me anything like that during our monthly phone calls.
I slump against the seat, and my dad laughs. “Well, you made it.”
“I did, and now I need a nap.”
He smiles. “You earned it.”
We drive in silence for a couple of minutes before he speaks again. “Do you still have a crush on Casey Bowman?”
“What?” The word comes out of me high and strangled. �
��Where did that come from?”
“You seemed interested in who he was taking to the fireworks, and I know you two were close when you were younger.”
My face is hot, and I’m glad that my dad is driving so he’s less likely to see how hard I’m blushing right now. “That was a long time ago.”
“Time doesn’t always affect things like that,” he says. “And you never answered the question.”
“No. Of course not. I was engaged until a week ago, Dad.”
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I think we both know now that it might have been over before that. And I’m not convinced by that answer.”
I can’t speak. I cannot believe that I am having this conversation right now.
“I’ve always liked Bowman,” Dad says, casually, as if he didn’t just accuse me of having a crush on him. Which I totally and completely do. “He’s steady. Helped his parents all this time and has made sure that their farm stays afloat. Also takes care of people in the community even though he doesn’t have to. Hell, he could probably be a sure thing for mayor if he ever thought about it.”
I snort. “Since when has Elgin had a mayor?”
We laugh together. The official population of Elgin is about five hundred. What would a town that size even do with a mayor? There wouldn’t be nearly enough to do to make it a full-time job. Things around here—other than the fireworks—basically run themselves. Elgin is more a cluster of people living in proximity rather than anything formal.
We pull off the highway toward home, and my stomach drops as we drive along. Casey is out at his fence line along the road, and it looks like he’s fixing a post. Of course he would appear out of thin air right after my father asked me about him. Of course.
My face heats again. It’s been days since I left him alone in his bed. What does he think? Is he angry at me? Does he think that I used him? I haven’t even ventured toward his property line in the last few days because I have no idea what to say to him. ‘Hey, Casey, thanks for the mind-blowing orgasms you gave me, but you let something slip that really freaked me out and so I ran away?’
Dad slows down the car, and my breath goes shallow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to talk to the man. That’s what neighbors round here do, Carley.” He raises one eyebrow at me, and we both know that is definitely not the reason that he’s stopping to talk to Casey, but neither one of us is going to say it out loud.
“Hey, neighbor,” my dad calls.
Casey smiles when he looks up. “Hey Mr. Farrell.”
My dad shakes his head. “How many times do I have to tell you just to call me Jack?”
“At least one more, Mr. Farrell.” He comes down to the car window and sees that I’m in the car. To his never-ending credit, his face never changes. But I see the hitch in his step and the sudden intensity in his eyes when he sees me. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous, and now my mind is torturing me with the memories of that night. The way he covered me in all of him with all those gorgeous, amazing whispered words. The slow, aching, shuddering pleasure that he fucked into me until I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Hey Carley,” he says.
“Hi.”
My dad nods, “You getting those cows ready for the fireworks?”
“Yes, sir. At full volume now. Just waiting for the official day.”
I look at my dad. “You know about the music?”
“Sure do. Everyone knows about Casey and his magic with the cattle. How do you know about it?”
Casey leans against the window. “Carley was on a walk and ran into me feeding the cows with the “1812 Overture.” She got to see it up close and personal. We caught up a little bit.”
“Really?” My dad looks over at me. “She hadn’t told me that.”
I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “It didn’t come up.”
“Well, Casey, we’re on our way back from the general store and we have a big lunch planned. Plenty of food to go around if you’d like to join us. Jess is trying a new chili recipe for the fireworks potluck and I think she’d like an opinion from someone who’s not related to her.”
What the hell is he doing? My heart is pounding in my ears. I’m hot and staring at Casey, seeing what he’s going to do. I can’t breathe. What am I going to do if I’m in the same room with both my family and Casey? I’m not sure my heart will be able to take it.
Casey looks at me, and smiles, seeing the state that I’m in. “That’s all right, Mr. Farrell, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing in the slightest. I insist you join us. You deserve a home cooked meal as much as anyone.”
A laugh. “You insulting my cooking skills?”
“I absolutely am,” Dad says. “My wife has told me stories.”
Casey laughs and looks at me. “In that case, I accept. What time should I come over?”
“As soon as you clean up. We’re happy to have you. But lunch is at one o’clock.”
We drive on, and Dad looks over at me, just smiling. Great. This is just great. Perfect.
10
Casey
The truck drives off down the road and I curse under my breath. I should have made some excuse to decline. Shouldn’t have given in so easily. I saw Carley’s face, and she was terrified. But I so badly want to be near her that I might have just fucked it all up.
Mrs. Farrell hates me, and Jessica does too. I highly doubt she’ll give a shit about my opinion of her chili. When I was in seventh grade, Jessica asked me out, and I said no. She was a year older, and by that time I already knew that I liked Carley, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself. So of course, I said no.
For whatever reason, Jessica was entirely devastated, and her mother joined her in her instant loathing of me. Jessica’s mockery, and the fear of what they might say, were one of the reasons that Carley and I never went public when we got together. I hoped that we would eventually. But then Firework Night happened…
And everything else.
But I’ll go and eat that chili even if it’s the worst thing in the world to be near Carley.
At least she likes me well enough. Not enough to stay in my bed until breakfast, though. My chest still aches at that. After what she’s been through, I’m not surprised, but in the moment, it still makes me ache.
I woke just before dawn already reaching for her, and she was gone. For a moment, I worried that it really had been a vivid dream. But it wasn’t. A few of her crazy, curly, blonde hairs were left across the pillow, and the sheets still smelled like her. The room still smelled like sex. And no dream I’ve ever had left me feeling that kind of satisfied.
No, Carley Farrell was far better than any dream. Softer, sweeter, and hotter. She was skittish—I understand why. But while she is here, and hopefully for a long time after that, I am going to show her that she doesn’t have any reason to run away from me.
And I am going to make sure that our night has a repeat. Soon. Tonight, actually. The last three nights have been unbearably cold and lonely. I don’t question the fact she crashed into my life and turned it upside down. I think that’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for. Someone to turn me upside down and spin me around and let me do the same to them.
I have an idea that might let Carley let go exactly the way I think she wants to. Now I just have to see if she will go for it.
I have a little time. I’m not going to show up too early. Somehow I don’t think that would go over well with Mrs. Farrell. So I finish the repair I’m working on and then head back to the house to change my clothes and pick up something to bring. My mother instilled the idea in me that I should never go to someone’s home without emptyhanded
Though it would be easy enough to walk, I have deliveries after lunch. So I take the truck and walk up to the Farrell’s door at exactly one o’clock with a jug of sweet tea and a box of rolls a neighbor gave me. I can hear the commotion even outside, and it makes me smile. I miss the sounds of a full house.
&nb
sp; Mr. Farrell opens the door. “Come on in, Casey.”
I don’t have a chance because two speed demons crash into my legs while shouting. “Hey, guys.”
Jack Jr. and John Michael come over to my farm whenever they beg hard enough during Christmas, and Jack lets them come over when they spend the night—though I’m not sure how Mrs. Farrell feels about that. They love the animals and helping with little chores. Jessica may not like me, but her kids sure do.
I hold up my offerings. “Know where I should put these?”
He laughs. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but right on the table should be fine.”
I do, setting out my stuff and ducking my head into the kitchen. “Hi, Mrs. Farrell.”
She gives me a tight smile. “Casey.”
“I brought some rolls and sweet tea. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. That was nice of you.” Her tone says that it wasn’t nice of me at all, but I’ll take what I can get.
She comes out of the kitchen with a big bowl of salad. “You can sit there.”
I take the seat she’s offered, and my hopes that it might be next to Carley fall to pieces when she comes into the room and sits across the table from me diagonally. It’s about as far from me as she can get, but she still smiles at me.
Hi. I mouth the word at her, and she blushes immediately. That’s a good sign, even if she’s embarrassed.
Everyone comes in and sits down, conversation buzzing about the chili. Rhett claps me on the shoulder and sits down next to me. “Good to see you, Bowman.”
“You too.”
Jack sits at the head of the table to my right, and we dig in. I don’t know exactly what Carley told them about her life and work, but I still want to talk to her even across the table.
“I hear you work as a florist up in Chicago, Carley. How’s that going for you? They like flowers up there?”
She laughs softly. “They do actually. We’re doing a lot of events lately. Can’t tell you the number of poinsettias I arranged before I flew down.”
Big Man’s Happily Ever After Page 40