I grin and now I want to kiss her again, but I fight the urge. “So you admit, I’m the best you’ve ever had.”
“Biggest ego…among other things,” Maggie says and God she’s gorgeous when she’s smiling. “Now give me your email address and get the hell out of here before one of my roommates comes home.”
We walk to the front door and as I grab my knapsack off the floor and shove my feet in my shoes, I give her my email. She punches some stuff on her phone and then reaches for the front door as my own phone pings. “Sent. Let me know if you have any questions.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say with a wink.
“Donotma’am me,” she warns.
“Okay, Firecracker.” I want to kiss her again so I do, but only on the cheek. “You know if you ever want to double your pleasure again, I’d be game.”
“This was supposed to be a one-time thing,” she says flatly. “A way to take out our aggression and stress without killing each other.”
“And it happened twice, so we’re not good with the math part. I think maybe if it happens a few more times it might benefit us both,” I say casually. But really, I feel a lot more than casual about this. I want to have more sex with her. In fact I need it. “We both have a lot of stress to work out.”
“You’re not wrong,” Maggie replies, surprising me but also making me incredibly happy. “I mean, if the opportunity presents itself again and the urge strikes, I won’t say no. But no one can ever know. You in my bed is more than enough reason for Clyde to make good on his threats and sell the farm to someone else.”
“And George would disown me. Jace might too, and the last thing I need is more shit to deal with,” I add. “So yeah, I’m good with keeping this quiet.Ifit happens again.”
“If…” she repeats firmly. “Now get out before someone comes home.”
Maggie opens the front door and basically shoves me out. I smile the whole way down the stairs because I can feel her watching me as I go, probably checking out my ass. As I walk outside I pull up the email Maggie sent.:Notes attached. You’re welcome.But she’s included her phone number at the bottom, something I didn’t have before.
Yeah…there is no “if” about it. This thing with uswillhappen again.
12
Maggie
I wipe my brow. I’m sweaty and stinky and just want to finish the chores on the farm so I can get home. Daisy and I have plans with Caroline and Jasmyn to go to the outdoor movie night, and I can’t wait…because I know Tate will be there.
“Hey! Mags, Daze, come and see what I’ve been working on,” Bobby calls out, and we make our way out of the goat enclosure. Ben has the goats in the milking building with Dad and Mom right now and Bobby has been working on our prototype.
We make our way down around the back of the farmhouse, behind the extension we built off the back years ago, where Clyde lives. There, behind a line of tall firs, where no one can see it from the road or the drive, is what Bobby calls Beatrice. Beatrice is a shipping container. But Bobby has been slowly and steadily working on turning her into a tiny, self-contained hotel style suite.
We both walk through the opening in the industrial plastic he has at one end and I immediately gasp. Daisy squeals. “Holy crap, it’s amazing Bobby!”
I nod in agreement because words have escaped me as I look around the interior. All the walls and the ceiling, which for the past month have been nothing but metal, have been covered in drywall and the metal floor is now reclaimed wood. There are even pot lights recessed into the ceiling drywall. Bobby smiles proudly. “And that’s not all.”
He walks over to the wall opposite where we came in and flips a switch. The pot lights come on. Daisy squeals again and jumps up and down while I clap. “Bobby this is incredible!”
“We’re not done, but we’re close. And those lights are running off the solar panels I put on the roof last week,” Bobby explains. “This is hands down my favorite part of working on the farm again.”
“Fantastic!” Daisy exclaims and bends down and touches the wood floors.
“I still got to seal ’em,” Bobby explains as Daisy touches the floorboards. “Wanted you girls to weigh in on whether I should sand off the paint first or not.”
I squat next to Daisy and take a closer look. Some of the planks do have a faded red paint on them. Like the color of an old red barn. And some have a few darker marks…like burn marks. I glance back up at Bobby. “Where is this wood from?”
Bobby’s grin grows devious and he looks so much like my dad. A broader, more muscular version because Bobby still has his hockey body, mostly. My dad only played hockey occasionally as a kid, was never serious about it like Bobby, and he is shorter and leaner than Bobby and Ben, but they share the same sandy hair and blue eyes that crinkle in the corners when they smile or laugh. And just like my dad, Bobby gets twitchy when he’s avoiding a question.
“It’s from a barn,” Bobby tells me with a shrug and then he crosses and uncrosses his arms. “So sand off the paint or no?”
“I’d keep it. We can match the décor to it,” Daisy says simply. “Add a red quilt or some throw pillows.”
“Did you get it at the hardware store? Because I’ve never seen—”
“I didn’t steal it…technically.” Bobby says and suddenly his eyes are looking everywhere but my face.
