“Who knows? He basically told me earlier he doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t involve him. Of course, he might have been mad because I saw him naked.”
“Excuse me?”
While I nuked the lasagna some more, I told her what had happened this morning, and she laughed.
“What’s going on with you, anyway? For thirty years, you’ve lived this perfect, well-mannered life and now you’re throwing scones and climbing trees to spy on naked men.”
Pulling the entree out again, I stabbed at the lasagna, now burnt at the edges. “Maybe I’m tired of behaving properly all the time. I’m experimenting with letting my gut take over.”
“I heartily applaud this experiment. You’ve always been way too well-behaved. Have some fun. Throw scones. Spy on naked men. Do more than that if you want.”
As I chewed a bite of tasteless, rubbery lasagna, I considered confiding in Jaime about what had happened in the barn. I wasn’t usually a kiss-and-tell kind of person, but maybe if I talked it out with Jaime, I could make more sense of it.
“Actually, I did a little more than that today.” I filled her in, and she was silent the whole time.
“Wow,” she said once I’d gotten to the part where he yelled at me to leave. “That is messed up.”
“I know.” Giving up on the lasagna for the moment, I took a bag of baby carrots out of the fridge and munched on them instead. They reminded me of the meal we’d had at Pete and Georgia’s house today at lunchtime—a delicious beet salad, everything from their own garden except the goat cheese (but that was made at a Michigan creamery) and some grilled pork tenderloin in barbecue sauce made with local peaches. I eyed the carrots in the bag, perfectly uniform and lacking in any personality whatsoever. Perfect could be so boring.
“And he’s a client,” Jaime reminded me.
“I know. I keep telling myself that. It’s just…I’m drawn to him for some reason, not that I could tell you what it is,” I said irritably. “I can list ten reasons I shouldn’t be.”
She laughed. “I’ll tell you what the reason is. He’s fucking hot. Here’s two more—he’s got a big dick, and you haven’t been laid since Tripp the Drip.”
I groaned. “Thanks for the reminder.” The memory of Jack’s dick pressing into my pelvic bone made my insides tighten.
“Sorry, Gogo. I shouldn’t tease. So what are you going to do?”
“Forget about him. What else is there to do?”
She sighed. “That’s probably for the best. I fully support getting outside your comfort zone, but a widowed Vet farmer who’s also a client might be too far out.”
“Way too far.” So far it shouldn’t matter this much.
“You OK? You need me to come up there for the meeting tomorrow?”
“No. I’m fine.” I tried to sound confident. “I promise this thing will not affect my work.”
“I know it won’t. You’re a perfectionist. That will never change.” She paused. “But did you really feed pigs today?”
That made me smile. “I sure did. And cows and horses and goats. And gathered eggs from chickens. Did you know they lay them from their butts?”
“No. And I really didn’t need to.”
I clucked my tongue. “Jaime Owens, you should really pay more attention to where your food comes from.”
“In this case, I think ignorance is bliss. Call me tomorrow?”
“Will do. Night.”
“Night.”
I spent the rest of the evening preparing for the meeting and trying to keep thoughts of Jack from distracting me.
But it was impossible.
I relived that kiss a thousand times. I felt his hands around my wrists. His tongue on my neck. His thigh between my legs.