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“Griff Shipley told me to look out for you. Said you’re trying to bend us all over with slave’s wages. We’re not falling for that.” “He…what?”
I shoved it aside in favor of throwing imaginary darts at Griff’s picture. He’d be easy enough to hit with a dart. Those broad shoulders. All that muscle…
The last farm on my list was right down the road from Griff Shipley. I gave his farm’s sign the finger as I passed by.
I needed a deep breath. And a glass of wine, and a day at a spa and a new job.
My head snapped up to find my nemesis watching me. “August Griffin Shipley!” I shrieked. “Did you tell every farmer in the county to give me the stiff arm? That was a dick move.”
I crossed my arms, too, mirroring his stance. If the move just happened to accentuate my cleavage, then oh well.
Honey. I hated myself a little bit for enjoying the way the word rolled off his full lips.
If I had to look like a complete idiot, did it have to be in front of the world’s hottest farmer? Apparently it did,
His touch shouldn’t feel familiar. I shouldn’t have gotten a jolt of longing just from gripping his fingers. But that big hand had once touched me everywhere.
“Can you get the skin off a clove of garlic in three seconds or less?” I teased. “Hell, yeah. Garlic is my bitch.”
Yeah, it was official. I was going to be single for the rest of my fucking life. The guy who’d kill a pig in front of a pretty girl is the guy who will die lonely.
Every time I thought I had this girl figured out, she surprised me.
Zach had zero experience with women, but he was obviously more of a gentleman than I’d ever be.
“If you feel nauseated, you can step outside.” Audrey whirled on me. “Griff Shipley, don’t you dare throw away that head without removing the cheek meat.” “Come again?” “You heard me. No—I’ll do it.”
“Can I keep going? I’ve never butchered a shoulder roast before. And this part will be for blade steaks, and then there’s the loin…” Marry me, my brain offered up as I gawked at her bloodied hands and bright smile.
“You want these cuts big, right? But this is my first time, and I’m not sure I can get this roast out in one chunk.” Hell, neither could I, and I’d done this a dozen times already.
“Thanks for the help,” she said dryly. “But every girl becomes an expert in getting blood out of fabric right around her thirteenth birthday. Cold water and soap. It’s not rocket science.”
“Ooh, score! I love this stuff,” she said appreciatively, and I couldn’t help but feel a burst of stupid pride.
Butchering was usually a chore, but I had Audrey’s feminine laugh—and sharp tongue—to keep me company.
They don’t want you. You’re too much trouble.” “That’s what everybody says,” she whispered, then smiled. It was supposed to be a joke, but I had the feeling it was only halfway funny to her.
“Now you know who’s the gentleman on the premises.” She gave me a quick poke in the side. “Not you.” “Damn right.”
“There aren’t any coyotes in there, right?” she asked as we approached the wooden stall. “I’ll chase ’em out just for you,”
she stopped, her chin tilting upward. Her expression was a dare. And I always took a dare. I dropped my head, finding her jaw with my lips.
The minute Griff Shipley had taken off his shirt, my body turned traitor. And by the time he put his mouth on me, whatever self-restraint I’d had flew away on the sweet Vermont breeze.
Griff still thought of me as an airhead sorority girl. And I was about to prove him right.
We were doing this. I was about to do the nasty with Griff Shipley up against a stone wall his grandfather built a hundred years ago.
The glint in his eye was ten percent mocking and ninety percent heat. That ten percent irritated me. Not enough to stop him, though. Let’s not get crazy.
I was already soaking wet and ready for him. God, what a cheap date I was.
I just wanted to stay right here—literally pressed between a rock and a hard place. Forever.
Someone was moaning, and I think it was me.
But what do you say to the man who you just banged unexpectedly in his outdoor shower? Thanks? Nice knowing you? (Biblically. Again.)
The only sign of personality was a paperback thriller on the nightstand and a pair of reading glasses. Aw. Somehow it softened Griff’s image to know he wore glasses when he read in bed.
Holy cannoli. I was cuddling the world’s grumpiest farmer.
I risked a sweep of my hand across his ribs, and he twitched. “Sorry,” I said immediately. The low, unfamiliar rumble I heard next turned out to be a chuckle. “S’okay,” he whispered. “Just ticklish.” That was charming and unexpected. So of course I had to do it again.
“Enough of that, princess.”
She and I were a dangerous combination.
Zach turned around. “Okay…what the hell?” He pointed, aiming at my neck. Fuck. I clapped my hand over my skin like the guilty man I was.
Zachariah put some music on our beat-up old radio because he swore that the cows enjoyed classical guitar.
my mind kept wandering toward Audrey’s soft skin and eager hands. And why was I calculating the distance to Boston? It was about one hundred fifty miles, give or take.
My life couldn’t handle yet another person who would depend on me not to let her down. There were plenty of those already. But, hell, she was tempting.
A day ago I’d sat across the table from Jude telling myself that it would never be me who got hooked on anything. And here I was feeling a serious addictive pull toward a certain hot little chef with a strong will and a wicked tongue.
The husky laugh that followed made my blood run hot. Christ. Just the sound of her was like a drug.
I was just a few feet away, and the urge to touch her was strong.
Every hour she spent in Vermont served to remind me of exactly how hot for her I’d been in college, too.
But someday I hoped to find someone. And maybe she’d glance at me over her shoulder the way that Audrey did now and then lick her perfect lips.
“What’ll it be, Farmer Griff?” You.
“I didn’t say onions,” I said without thinking. They weren’t conducive to the goodbye kiss I’d need if I was going to let her get into that little rental car later and drive away.
“Why’d you ask me what I wanted, then?” “Just to make you feel empowered,”
she picked up a third egg. “Two is fine,” I said quickly. She cracked it anyway. “You need to keep up your strength,”
“Griff, it’s a little hot for flannel, no?” She squeezed my elbow on her way to the coffee pot. “It was, uh, cold in the barn this morning,” I lied. Only then did Audrey break character. She snuck a look at my neck and then looked sheepish. Awesome. Women regret me even before breakfast.
