“Can you have the samples ready by tomorrow?”
I do a quick scan of all the molds I’ve filled over the last three days. “I think so.”
“Perfect! I’ll come and get them.”
“What?” I frown. “No, I’m in Pennsylvania. It’s too far from New York.”
“Oui. I will come there.” Margo’s smooth voice fills my ear.
“I can just courier it to you.”
“No, I want to see your shop. I want to see where the masterful Abigail creates her pièce de résistance. It must be special.”
My eyes roam the dusty little room in the hundred-year-old barn that stores our equipment, and then down over myself, at the stained and torn apron that protects my sweats. “I promise you, it’s not all that impressive or masterful.”
“Impossible. Send me your address.”
“But—”
“I will fly out first thing in the morning.”
Shit. She’s serious. And relentless. Crap. “What time?”
“Let’s say eleven.” Her musical laughter fills my ear. “But you know me.”
“Yeah… that could work.” Daddy has physiotherapy in the city tomorrow, and then plans to see some cousins for dinner on the way back. Mama will be with him.
That would be best.
~ ~ ~
“How’s Barcelona?”
“Busy and hot, but productive. To be honest, I’ve been on the phone for most of the day, dealing with the press around the gold mine shutdown. The media’s having a field day.”
“Yeah, I read about it.” Everyone seems interested in what’s to become of the Wolf fortune. Apparently it’s the first time the Wolf gold mine has shut down since it opened, and on the heels of William Wolf’s death, there are plenty of rumors about why. “Has Scott said anything?”
“Not yet. I’m guessing his lawyers have told him to shut up. The idiot probably doesn’t realize that he could go to jail for some of the shit he pulled. He should be thanking me for taking over, but….”
I close my eyes and let myself get lost in the deep melodic sound of Henry’s voice, imagining that we’re having this conversation while lying in his bed in New York, my cheek resting against his bare chest.
“Your dad made the right choice.”
He sighs. “I know. Still, I can’t help but feel a bit bad for the guy, losing his father who he found out isn’t really his father, and then being all but cut out of the will.”
“Because he tried to ruin your life.” And made sure my heart got crushed in the process. I scowl. I don’t want to think about Scott Wolf anymore. “How’s everyone doing over there?”
“Miles looks like hasn’t slept in four days.” He chuckles darkly. “And Belinda is demanding a salary increase.”
“She probably deserves it.”
“Are you telling me how to run my business again?” I hear the amusement in his voice. “Speaking of businesses, I hear Margo’s on her way out.”
“Yeah, she’s insisting.”
“Are you ready?”
I eye the dozen Farm Girl branded lavender paper gift bags, filled with freshly made samples and lined up on the table in front of me. They’re such an odd contradiction to the worn wood and rusted metal everywhere else in the barn. “I finished the samples for her, if that’s what you mean.” But ready to have Margo here, in Greenbank Pennsylvania, on my family farm, unintentionally dripping sexuality with her every step, her every word, her every touch?
I’ve barely slept all night, worrying about it. At least Mama isn’t here. I told them over dinner that Margo Lauren “might” be coming for a visit “soon” and Mama’s jaw just about hit the floor. I’m pretty sure the word “jezebel” was about to fill the kitchen, but then I quickly explained why—that she loved my soaps and wanted to help me sell them at a major retailer—and Mama’s tune changed somewhat, though still with heavy traces of disapproval. “Make sure she doesn’t try to steal your company like she tried to steal your man,” Mama said.
“Okay, Mama,” I said politely, fighting the eye roll.
Thankfully, they left for the city an hour ago, with no idea that “soon” meant today.
“Trust her. She knows what she’s doing. You can use the article in your website.”
I frown. “Wait. What article?”
“The one her friend is going to write.” A pause. “What exactly did Margo tell you?”
“That she wanted to come see where I work?” Wariness creeps down my spine. “Why?”
Henry chuckles. “Margo’s bringing Ryan McCleary to write a piece about you for Ares. It’s an indie business magazine with a huge reach.”
“What? Do you mean like a journalist?”
“You could call him that. And likely a photographer. Being featured in there will put your name on the map.”
“Oh my God. You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
I let out a small cry of panic. I cleaned the space up, figuring Margo would take a quick stroll and then be done with it. It’s nowhere near ready for a photographer, though. And me…. It’s 10:00 a.m. and I haven’t even showered, and Margo is surprising me with some magazine writer!
“Nailed It is already working on your website for you, right?” Henry asks, switching tops as my mind is still tangled up in this latest surprise.
“Uh….” When Zaheera mentioned creating a website for me last week, I laughed and told her that the people who buy my soap in Greenbank aren’t going to look me up on a website.
“Abbi.”
“Soon! They’ll start soon.”
“And make sure they’ve already started the copyrighting process.”
“Copyrighting?”
“They can send it directly to my lawyers. And they should already have started on the regulatory testing process.”
“Regulatory testing?”
“That’s going to take a while, so don’t waste another day. Ryan’s likely going to ask you about me, but don’t give him too much. This article is about you and your venture.”
“Okay. Slow down!” My head is about to explode. “This place is a disaster! I am a disaster! I can’t have some guy from a magazine here to take pictures! And answering questions? What kind of questions? Why the hell did she tell you about this and not me?”
“Probably because of the way you’re panicking right now. Relax. You can do this. It’s not a big deal.”
“Says the guy who just said this was a huge opportunity for me.” My stomach is in knots. As much as I don’t want to end my call with Henry, I need to get moving if I have a hope in hell of being ready.
“I have full confidence in you, Abbi. The article will be great. Margo will make sure of it.”
I heave a sigh. “I’ve gotta go. Have you figured out when you’ll be back in New York?”
“For the Wolf charity golf tournament next week.”
“Really?” Despite my anxiety, excitement sparks. That’s sooner than I had expected.
“Yeah. My dad always represented the company, but now… I need to.” He pauses. “I need you there with me.”
“Of course. Yes, whatever you need. Except I don’t golf.”
“You don’t have to.” I hear the amusement in his voice.
“Okay. I’ve gotta go now. I miss you.” I hesitate. “I love you.”
There’s a long pause, and when he speaks, his tone is softer. “Call me later.”
I spend another twenty minutes tidying things and cleaning the old woodstove before rushing out the barn door toward home.
And plow right into Jed.
“Whoa! Slow down.”
“I can’t! Margo’s going to be here in an hour and I still have to shower.” I frown as I take him in. “What the hell happened to you?” When I saw Jed at eight this morning and told him that Margo was coming, he was wearing his usual dirty worn jeans and t-shirt. But he’s since showered and traded them in for a white button-down and tie, and dark wash jeans.
And he’s had his hair trimmed. It’s still shaggy, but now it looks more stylish.
He grins sheepishly. “It’s not every day a supermodel shows up in Greenbank.”
“So now what? You’re going to bale hay like that?”
He shrugs. “I’ll figure something out.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, at least you’re ready for her,” I mutter, running toward home.
~ ~ ~
“This farm is as precious as I imagined!” Margo smiles at me as she climbs out of the driver seat of a silver Jaguar. She’s wearing a relatively modest plum-colored maxi dress that’s so long, the bottom brushes the dirt driveway, quickly coating the hem in dust. She doesn’t seem at all fazed by it as she heads straight for me to take my hands and offer me her signature two-cheek kiss. “It’s so good to see you again.”
The passenger door opens and a handsome man climbs out. He’s tall—well over six feet—and, though on the thin side, defined with muscle.
“Abigail, meet my friend Ryan.”
He rounds the front of the car with a bit of a hop to his step, rushing over to extend his hand. “Hi, Abigail. I’ve heard so much about you from Margo. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to writing this article.” In his bright hazel eyes, I see only eagerness.
“Welcome!” I spear Margo with a look.
“Would you mind terribly if I stole a moment alone with Abigail?” She bats her long lashes up at Ryan.
He smiles down at her, his desire for her blatant. “I’ll call to see how far away Ethan and the others are.”
Margo loops her arm through mine. “We will begin walking and meet you at the barn.”
“What others?” I hiss.
“This way, yes?” she asks, leading me down the path. “Ethan, the photographer; Jolene, who will help spruce up the set. And, of course, Morgan and Bonnie. They will make your already beautiful face shine.”
“I’m going to kill you and bury your body in the fields.”
She laughs my threat off with that musical charm.
“What did you tell Ryan about me? I’m not even a legit business!” Though apparently Zaheera has already begun setting Farm Girl Incorporated up, and the regulatory and copyright processes are well underway. I just found that out ten minutes ago, after calling to tell her I need that website after all.
She giggles, lifting the hem of her dress up a touch as we make our way along the grass, still damp from a morning rain, revealing rose-gold beaded sandals and clear-polished toes. “Do not worry about Ryan. He is eager to help in any way he can.”
“Why?”
“Because he is madly in love with me.” She says it so simply.
“So you’re using him.”
“Yes! And he knows it. But he also knows that I firmly believe in this product of yours.”
I sigh, unsure of how I feel about this entire arrangement.
She squeezes my arm with affection. “Relax, Abigail. This industry is all about friends and favors. I have many friends, and they owe me many favors. I’m simply collecting on them.” Her pretty face scrunches up as she peers into the distance, to where Jed is slowly rolling past in the tractor on his way out to fill up the empty wagon attached behind. “Who is that man?”
“That’s Jed. My ex-boyfriend.”
“You mentioned him once. He hurt you badly, yes?”
“He did. But it turned out to be the best thing he could ever have done, because then I met Henry.”
“Then he did you a big favor.” She smiles. And then frowns. “Do all American farmers wear ties while working the fields?”
I groan.
~ ~ ~
“Wow. You’re good,” I murmur, as Ethan leans in to show me a sampling of the pictures I just spent two hours posing for. I actually look… professional.
He grins. “What can I say? The camera loves you.”
I hesitate, unsure if it’s considered rude to ask. “Would it be possible to use any of these pictures for my website?”
“Of course it would be,” Margo interrupts with a grin. “You must use them. They are spectacular. Everything about this is spectacular.” Her excited eyes roll over the small room that the spunky blonde set designer, Jolene, transformed in twenty minutes, with the help of a box of supplies and some lighting. The previously bare metal-top table is now decorated with strategically placed cobalt-blue jugs filled with lavender and mint, and woven baskets of plump lemons. Fresh, brightly colored tea towels and a copper kettle give life to the worn old woodstove in the corner. Even the barn wood walls look more festive, with colorful plates hung in a line.
“I’d love to get a few more pictures of Abbi around the farm, if you don’t mind,” Ethan asks.
“I love that idea. Girls, you can finish up here?” Margo says, leading us out to the sound of the tractor rumbling. Jed is passing the barn with a trailer loaded with hay.
I roll my eyes at the sight of his unbuttoned shirt, tie hanging loosely over his sweaty chest.
“On here, yes?” Margo asks, marching out in front of the tractor. She holds a hand up, signally for Jed to stop.
I know Jed well enough that I can tell he’s sweating buckets of nerves as he climbs down, even though he’s trying to play it cool. He tosses his work gloves to his seat and brushes a hand through his hair, sending it into disarray. “Hey. I’m Jed.”
“Oui! The ex-boyfriend.”
He looks nervously at me, his face beginning to turn red. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard but—”
“Only good things.” Margo winks. She runs through quick introductions. “Would you mind if we borrow this for a moment?”
“Of course not! Go right ahead. And I can take you out for a ride later, if you want.”
I stifle my laugh. “Where do you want me?”
“How about in the seat, first. Do you need help getting up?” Ethan holds out hand.
“I think I can manage.” I climb up with ease, trying not to flash the guys in this short floral skirt they put me in.
“Definitely a country girl.” Ryan’s grinning. He waggles his pen between me and Jed, asking Jed, “So, you two dated? Did I hear that right?”
“Yeah. For like eight years, I think. Right, Abbi? Since we were thirteen.”
“High school sweethearts. Cool.”
“Yeah. We were gonna get married.”
“Really.” Ryan’s eyebrows pop with curiosity. “So why’d you break up? Did it have anything to do with Henry Wolf?”
“No. We were already broken up when I went to Alaska,” I cut in, hoping to end that conversation. “What do you guys want me to do up here?”
I spend the next five minutes doing whatever Ethan suggests—“put your right hand on the steering wheel,” “Now your left hand,” “Now lean back and put your legs up on the dash, crossing at the ankles,” while watching Ryan jot notes down that I’m trying not to stress about. At least he’s not getting too much out of Jed, who has eased his way over to Margo to try and impress her.
“How about on the hay bales now?” Ethan asks.
“Sure.” I hop down from the ladder and climb onto the wagon, this time sure I’ve inadvertently flashed someone. I settle onto the lowest row, trying to ignore how the fresh cut hay scratches my bare thighs. “This good?”
“Wait, let me help you.” Margo turns to Jed. “Would you please help me climb up?”
“Uh… sure. Yeah. Okay.” Jed, flustered about where to put his hands on her, finally settles on her tiny waist. He effortlessly hoists her up onto the wagon.
“Merci.”
“Yeah… I mean merci. I mean…,” he babbles, grinning like a fool.
But Margo has already dismissed him, focusing her attention on me. She pokes and prods and adjusts me as if I’m a mannequin, stepping out of the way long enough for Ethan to snap a few shots.
“I think we’re good!”
“Wait! One with me now, please.” She cozies up beside me on the bale, resting her chin on my shoulder playfully.
“That’s perfect,” Ethan croons, checking his screen. “Yes, awesome.”
“And now one for me.” She pulls out her phone and holds it up in front of us, capturing both our faces in screen, along with the view of the bales in the background. “Smile!” Her long, delicate thumbs play with the settings. “There. See? Beautiful!”
“Wow. How did you do that? It looks like a professional shot.”
“Hey!” Ethan chirps, but then he grins.
Margo’s thumbs fly over her keypad.
I frown. “What are you typing? Are you posting that?”
“Oui. On Instagram.” She holds it up for me to see her comment: A beautiful day on a farm with my beautiful farm girl.
“Oh my God!” I exclaim. “Fourteen million people are going to see this?”
“And I tagged you. See?” She clicks on something and suddenly an @farmgirl profile pops up, with a picture of me from the day of that photoshoot, in my royal blue dress and my breasts spilling out.
My mouth drops open.
She giggles with glee. “Surprise! I asked Henry to make sure your branding company has your social media up. We need to begin building your platform.”
“Oh my God! You are worse than he is!”
Her giggles turn into wicked laughter as she reaches for Jed to help her down. He stumbles in his dive to get to her. “Come. We are done work for the day. I brought us a picnic.”
I sigh, the whirlwind that is Margo leaving me unsettled, yet again. “Let me guess. There’s wine.”
~ ~ ~
“I should get back to work,” Jed says. But he doesn’t move.
I don’t blame him. We’ve been settled on these blankets beneath the shade of the big oak tree for the better part of an hour, nibbling on the array of cheeses and bread and other snacks that Margo brought with her. The last thing I want to do is move.
Margo must sense my thoughts. “It is beautiful here.”
“It is.” Especially now, with the farm fields ready to be harvested.
“Well, I think I have everything I need,” Ryan murmurs, scribbling a few last words down on his pad of paper before tucking it into his messenger bag. He peppered me with questions throughout our meal, and I think I handled them well enough. The few times that the conversation swerved toward Henry, I managed to steer it back quickly, giving him nothing more than vague answers.
Jed’s phone rings. He checks his screen and then winces. “Ah, shit. I forgot I promised my dad I’d help him with something. I’ve gotta go.” Climbing to his feet, he looks down at Margo, his face filled with pain at the prospect of leaving her beauty.
She stands and takes his hands. “It was lovely meeting you, Jed. Thank you for joining us this afternoon.” She leans in to give him her signature two-cheek kiss, leaving him staring at her dumbly for a good five seconds before shaking his head and trotting off.
You won’t be needing any magazine pictures to help you tonight, will you, Jed?
“And then there were three,” Ryan says. Ethan and the others left a while ago.
“You can swim in there?” Margo asks, gazing down at the lake below us.
“We do all the time. In the summer, anyway.” The days are still hot but the nights have really cooled down.
With a long, leisurely stretch over her head, Margo begins walking toward the water. Halfway down the embankment, the view hidden from the farm, she pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulders. It cascades to the soft grass below, giving Ryan and me a full view of her naked form.
Here we go again.
She peers over her shoulder at us, a coy smile touching her lips. “Who will swim with me?”
Ryan’s eyes blaze with heat. He turns to me.
“I have to call Henry back, but be my guest.”
He smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t bring my bathing suit either.”
“I figured as much.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I’ve gotten used to Margo’s… style.”
He doesn’t waste another second, charging down the hill, peeling off his clothes and casting them aside as he goes.
And I immediately text Henry.
I think I know what you mean now when you said Margo would make sure Ryan writes a favorable article.
Ten seconds later, my phone starts ringing with a FaceTime request.
I smile at the sight of Henry’s striking face as it fills the screen. It looks like he’s in his hotel room.
“What is she doing?” I can’t tell if he’s angry.
“Remember that lake on my property? The one I was swimming in that time you surprised me here?”
His eyebrows raise. “Yeah….”
I turn the phone toward the lake, so Henry can see Margo slowly wading in from the shallow side, seemingly unperturbed by the temperature of the water. Meanwhile, Ryan is down to his underwear, hopping from foot to foot to peel his socks off.
I turn the phone back to face me, keeping my eyes locked on Henry so he knows I’m not watching as Ryan yanks his briefs off.
“And she invited you to join them?”
“She asked if I wanted to go swimming. I politely declined so that I could call you. Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Henry shakes his head, but there’s at least amusement in his face. “How did today go?”
I lean back against the tree trunk. “Fantastic, actually.” I give him the rundown of the day, trying to ignore the sounds of Margo’s musical laughter and their playful splashes. “I think I have this whole ‘running a company’ thing down. I don’t know what you’re so stressed about, with your hotels and your gold mine,” I tease.
He smirks. “I want to see those pictures they took. Immediately.”
“I don’t know about immediately, but I’m sure Margo can get them within the next day or two.” Ethan said he’d work on editing them tonight. “Oh, and by the way, no more conspiring with Margo over creating social media accounts.” I give him my most severe glare to let him know I’m not kidding.
He matches it. “If you didn’t move at the pace of an injured snail, I wouldn’t have to.”
“Not everyone moves at your pace.”
Henry studies my face. “You look beautiful today.”
“Thank you.” More softly, I add, “I miss you.”
“Yes. Why aren’t you here with me, again?”
I roll my eyes. “How’s Belinda?”
“Demanding that Miles gets you on a plane for here tonight.”
I giggle. “Are you done working for the day?”
“I am.” He takes a sip of his Scotch and then asks so smoothly, “Are they fucking yet?”
My lower belly tightens, and I can’t tell if it’s from his words or that tone. “I’d have to look.”
His brow arches. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”
With soft sigh, I glance over to the lake. Margo and Ryan have ended their playful game of foreplay and are now facing each other in depths that just barely covers Margo’s breasts, kissing intensely, their hands’ activity invisible below the water. “Not yet, but I’m guessing it won’t be long.”
“Where are you, exactly?”
“Up on the hill, under the oak tree.”
“Show me.”
I use the phone to display the view around me.
“And where’s your family?”
“Gone.”
“And Fuckface?”
“Jerking off to thoughts of Margo at home.”
His lips twist in thought. “And what are you wearing?”
I feel my excitement begin to burn between my legs as I tip the phone to show him the flirty white blouse and short floral skirt that they styled me in.
When I tip the screen back, I find a smile of satisfaction waiting for me. “What’s that smile for?”
“Take off your panties,” he demands softly.
“Right here?”
“Will anyone be able to see you?”
“No.” I’m turned away from them, and the grass is long enough.
“Well then… It’s been too long. I’m waiting.”
With a sigh of both trepidation and excitement, I set the phone down and, glancing once to make sure Ryan’s attention is focused intently on Margo, I peel my white panties off and set them in the grass next to me.
I look down at Henry’s waiting face. “Okay.”
His quirked brow tells me what I already know—that my words are not enough.
Blood begins rushing between my legs as I hold my phone down there, giving Henry the view he wants.
“Push your skirt back.”
“What if they figure out what I’m doing,” I whisper.
“Do you really think they’re paying attention to anyone else right now?”
Margo is pulling herself onto the wooden floating dock, her naked body dripping with water as she sits, waiting for Ryan to follow. She hasn’t glanced up here once, as if whether I’m watching or not is of no consequence to her.
Ryan does glance up once, to catch me looking, and then he pulls himself up alongside her. He begins stroking his length furtively as he settles onto his back. The water must be cold.
“Abbi.” Henry’s voice breaks my intent focus.
“No. They’re not paying any attention.”
“Good. Then open up for me.”
I follow the order, bending my legs and pulling my skirt up until I can feel the warm September breeze against my sensitive flesh. And then I hold the phone down.
“Touch yourself.”
I hold my breath—I’m always so self-conscious at the start, and that’s behind the safety of a door—and reach down.
“Do it how I like it,” he murmurs, and I hear a zipper unfasten on his end.
I run my fingertips through my slit several times, feeling myself grow more wet by the second, and then I push the folds back.
“You have no idea how much I can’t wait to fuck that again.”
“This?” I whisper, pushing a finger inside. “Show me how much.”
The screen angle adjusts, and I watch Henry stroking his ramrod cock. I only get a glimpse and then the camera is back on his face. I can’t help the sound of disapproval.
“What are they doing now?”
“She’s straddling him.” Margo has climbed onto Ryan, facing me, her hands woven through her hair, her perfect body tensing as her pelvis grinds against his cock at a steady rhythm, ripples of water being sent in every direction around them as the dock bobs. Ryan’s hands skate over her svelte body, one reaching up to grasp her perky breasts while the other settles on her clit.
With slow, precise strokes, I rub myself to the same beat that Margo fucks Ryan.
“You’re getting really wet, Abbi,” Henry notes between pants.
A few moments later, Ryan’s grunts carry up the hill.
“He just came,” I whisper.
“Did she?”
“I don’t think so.” I watch as she unceremoniously slides off him and shimmies upward. He grips the backs of her thighs and opens his mouth as she settles onto his face. “No, definitely not.”
Suddenly, Margo looks up, stalling my fingers.
“Keep going,” Henry commands.
Her eyes settle intently on my thighs. She may not be able to see but she knows what I’m doing.
That alone is enough for me. The familiar tingle begins to move down my spine and my legs fall farther apart of their own accord.
Henry’s breathing quickens. He’s jerking himself forcefully, also seconds away from coming.
Reaching down to grasp the top of Ryan’s hair, Margo begins grinding on his face, her free hand smoothing over first one breast, then the other. Her lips part and one moan after another begins rolling out, pushing me over the edge fast and hard. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out as my body rides the waves rushing through me.
Henry comes seconds later, shifting the screen down in time to let me watch him spill his seed everywhere.
I quickly slide on my panties, assuming Ryan and Margo will be making their way up here momentarily. But when I dare look down again, Margo has stretched out languidly on the dock and has settled her mouth over Ryan’s cock.
She spends the next ten minutes sucking him off while I answer Henry’s questions about the interview.
Wondering how the hell these kinds of things keep happening to me.
~ ~ ~
“Thanks so much for giving me the opportunity, Abbi.” Ryan sets the dozen Farm Girl sample bags I prepared into the back seat of the Jag.
The opportunity to what? Interview me? Or to fuck Margo?
I force a wide smile. “Of course. I hope the article is worthwhile for you.”
“It’s a great story. And Margo loves your products.”
“So do you. Remember? You complimented me on the smell of my skin.” She grins.
Ryan has the decency to blush. “Right. Well… thanks again.”
Margo tosses the keys to him. “You drive. I am tired.”
“Sweet. Don’t have to ask me twice.” He rounds the car and jumps in to the driver side. The engine starts with a purr.
Margo turns to smile devilishly at me. “Today was fun, oui?”
I heave a sigh, and then laugh. “It was something, all right.”
Grasping my biceps, she leans in to place kisses on both my cheeks, before leaning in to murmur in my ear, “He will write a magnificent article for you.”
“You don’t have to screw guys on my account, Margo.”
She winks. “That was for me.” With one last kiss, this one flat on my lips, she slides into the passenger seat. They pull away shortly, honking the horn several times on the way.
And I’m left shaking my head. Thank God Jed left when he did. Though he has stopped running to Mama about these kinds of things. If she knew what’d happened here today, she’d have Reverend Enderbey in to perform an exorcism on the land.
