Page 58 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
“Please?” Setting my cup down, I clasped my hands and gave him my best smile. “I’ll be good.”
He exhaled, narrowing his eyes at me, but I saw a smile threatening. “I suppose I have to buy you an ice cream, too.”
I clapped twice. “Yay! Ice cream!”
“This is great. Thank you,” Georgia said. “I’ll let you know for sure once I talk to Brad.”
“Let’s just plan on it!” I said excitedly. “No matter what, Jack and I will do it.”
“Really?” Georgia blinked and looked at her brother-in-law. “That OK with you?”
“It’s fine.” Jack tipped up the rest of his coffee and set his cup in the sink. “I’d better head back out if I’m only getting half a day in. Is everything ready to go for this afternoon?”
“No, but I’ll sort, wash, and package this morning, and maybe Margot will give me a hand getting the tables and signage together. That way I can show her how I set up. All you’ll have to do is load the truck.”
“Of course,” I said. “Anything you need.”
“OK.” Jack looked at me. “Want to give me a hand with the egg collection before you do that?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“Have fun, you two,” Georgia chirped, giving me a secret thumbs up while Jack was opening the door for me.
As we walked toward the coop, my boots sank in the mud, my nostrils were assaulted with the smell of manure, and my anxiety about reaching beneath an angry hen returned. But my heart tripped with excitement for the day ahead.
Twenty-Three
Jack
As soon as we got around the side of the barn, out of sight from the house, I grabbed Margot’s hand, spun her around, and kissed her. Our arms wrapped around each other, our bodies straining to get closer, as if it had been a lot longer than just a few hours since we’d seen each other. She smelled like last night—vanilla and sex.
Fuck, that’s hot.
I hadn’t thought of anything but this since I’d left her in bed. I was distracted as hell, too, moving slowly or standing still staring off into space when I was supposed to be getting shit done. “What the hell is with you?” Pete had asked me an hour ago when he found me standing like a statue in the barn, a length of rope in my hand. Oh nothing, just thinking about tying up the nice lady who’s working for us, maybe blindfolding her too. Fucking her mouth. The usual.
Then when I saw her in the kitchen, my heart had knocked fast and hard against my ribs—a feeling I hadn’t counted on. How long had it been since I’d felt so happy to see someone? She’d looked so pretty sitting there, with her hair off her face and no makeup, a simple white t-shirt. It would be filthy by day’s end, but I didn’t think she’d care.
“Wow,” she said, coming up for air. “Is this because I said I’d help you with the eggs?”
“Nope. It’s because I’m glad to see you. And also for the sleep I got last night.”
Her face lit up. “I was going to ask you. You told me you don’t sleep well the other night.”
“I don’t, not usually. But last night I did.” I was trying not to think too much about it and simply enjoy the feeling of being well-rested. If I let my mind dwell on the why behind the what, I’d have to ask myself some questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“That makes me happy.” She bounced on her toes.
I kissed her again, slow and soft this time, wanting to stretch out this moment in time as far as it would go. But when my hands started to wander and the crotch of my pants grew tight, I figured we’d better stop. “I’d much rather do this than work today, but I should probably get some things done before we have to leave.”
She smiled. “I’m all yours. Put me to work.”
Margot was still hopeless at gathering eggs (“I can’t take that one under the hen…it seems personal, like she really wants to keep it.”), but she remembered lessons from the other day and definitely worked faster. After that, Pete and I went out to check the fences and Margot stayed with Georgia to get things ready for the market. I hadn’t done one in years, and when I had, Steph had been there to make everything look nice. Hopefully Margot would remember everything Georgia told her.
Just before noon, we loaded everything in the truck—including a picnic basket Georgia had packed for our lunch—and set off for Frankenmuth. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked her as we headed west. The sun was just starting to shine through the clouds, and it looked like we’d have good weather, which always meant a better turnout.
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