Or of her.
That kiss had knocked me for a loop, making me forget all the reasons I shouldn’t hook up with Shelby. I was in Ferris for good PR. Connecting with local farmers who would help out with the campaign was half the reason I was here. The other half was to scope out smaller farms for acquisition, but so far I had only found one solid investment opportunity. Ronnie Miller’s dairy with the decadent cheese.
We had already sent him the paperwork and he was reviewing it with his attorney. I had made sure to be generous, wanting to help him while still profiting. The terms of the deal were more than fair, in my opinion, and I anticipated Ronnie would send the signed versions back soon enough.
Shelby’s farm would make a good investment too, but I didn’t even want to suggest it. Her parents’ deal with Allory had cut her too deeply. There was no way she would partner with the same company that had torn her life asunder.
However, if Shelby were to bring up the idea, I would jump at the chance. With her knowledge and my finances, we could do great things together. It was too bad I had already muddied the waters of any future business dealings by kissing her.
I couldn’t bring myself to regret the kiss, though. Her lips had been sweet. Being so close to her, the scent of her wrapped around me like a seductive cloud. I wasn’t sure where I had found the willpower to stop before nature took its course and we tore each other’s clothes off.
“Mr. Allory, sir?” Brian from PR had been talking but I had been fully distracted.
I took a deep, bracing breath of cool country air and released it. “I missed all that. Bad connection. Give me the bullet points.”
“Oh, yes, sir.” He cleared his throat. “The social media team will be heading into town tomorrow. As per your email, transport has been arranged and you won’t have to worry about it.”
“Tomorrow, huh?” The bake-off was tomorrow. I was supposed to be a judge and I wasn’t about to back out now. Mrs. Presley would be crushed. The damn PR team would just have to wait until I was finished.
“Yes, sir. They wanted me to ask you for any contact info on locals who will be in the reels we’ll be shooting.”
“I have a couple maybes,” I said, which was mostly true. I was starting to second-guess including Shelby in the campaign at all. She wasn’t just a prop for a PR stunt. I liked her. Icaredabout her, crazy as it was to admit it to myself.
And she was still hesitant to be a part of it, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. I didn’t want to pressure her into it, which was how I was starting to feel. The original agreement between Shelby and me was she would think about helping out if I did some work on her farm. To her credit, shehadthought about it.
Plus, the work had ended up being fun. It took me right back to those summers with my uncle, not stuck in an office, sitting in board meetings, looking at spreadsheets. I wouldn’t mind spending the entire spring season out on the farm with her, feeling the burn in my muscles after a hard day’s work, getting tanned, and laughing with the angry little farmgirl who teased me relentlessly.
I smiled as a thought occurred to me. So many people would kill to have my job, with my office, my salary, and my prestige. And here I was, dreaming about throwing it all away to go work on an egg farm with the girl I was crushing on.
The simple life didn’t seem so bad compared to the million fires I had to put out every day. I fully understood farming life wasn’t easy, but it was less complicated than my current life. Maybe when I retired, I could get me a little parcel of land and grow something. Get a couple goats and?—
“Mr. Allory, sir?”
“Dammit, Brian, just send me an email.” I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket.
I couldn’t even daydream for a minute without someone asking me for something. It was no wonder I was yearning to stay here in the sticks, where all I had to do was judge a bake-off and take orders from Shelby.
“Sorry, Mrs. Presley,” I said as I came back into her sitting room. “You were telling me about the Easter festivities this week?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, settling right back into her explanation of the local tradition. “The week leading up to Easter, Ferris has a spring festival with lot of events. The bake-off is just the first of them.”
I nodded. “That should be fun. I guess I chose the right time to come visit.”
“It’s a hoot. All the neighbors come out. It helps reconnect us as a community.”
I heard a truck pull up outside Honeyrose.
“That will be Jake,” Mrs. Presley said. “He’s here to pick up some signs I made for the bake-off.”
She got up to let him in and I went to say hello too.
“Allory,” he said, cocking his head. “Are you busy right now?”
“No, not at the moment.” I shrugged. “I was going to catch up on some paperwork, but I could be persuaded to play a little hooky if the right offer comes along.”
Jake nodded. “I could use a hand setting up the gym for the bake-off.”
“The gym? Are there physical challenges for this bake-off?” I glanced at Mrs. Presley, who laughed.
