The Suit (5 page)

The house is rancher-styled with a long screened porch that covers the front. As I step past the screen door, on the porch and I can’t help the snort that escapes my mouth. Two white rocking chairs sit to my left and a porch swing to my right. If this isn’t like something out of
Mayberry
, I don’t know what is. The screen door doesn’t slam shut and I realize it’s because it’s missing its spring so I don’t bother to close it when it remains slightly open.

I carry my large suitcase to the front door and take a deep breath. The girl is obviously not crazy with the idea of me staying here, and even though she’s hot as hell, I’m not too keen on it myself. I drop my head and close my eyes.
You can do this, John. It’s only three months.

I knock on the door loudly and wait for the sound of footsteps or her to shout
, “Be right there
,
”
but there’s only silence. I knock again. More silence. “Looks like she’s not letting you in, Wilson,” I say to myself. She knew I would be here at eight. I told her so.

“Maybe she was
just down at the barn,” Edie’s familiar voice chimes from behind me. When I spin around, I see every man’s wet dream. Let’s face it—you don’t have to be country to appreciate a ripe farm girl. Worn, tight jeans with holes at the knees, a small black tank top, and riding boots. Her hair is tied up on top of her head in a messy knot, but it’s sexy as hell. There’s a slight sheen to her skin where she’s been sweating. She stares at me through the lens of her sunglasses and my mouth suddenly feels dry.

“I didn’t hear you behind me, Ms. James.” I nod and step aside so she can open the door and invite me in.

“Of course you didn’t.” Her mouth curves slightly. “You were too busy talking to yourself.” She pushes past me and opens the door, apparently it was unlocked, and steps inside. “And call me Edie. I’ll have a key made for you, but while I’m down at the stables, I usually leave it unlocked.”

Once we’re inside, she doesn’t say anything, just leads me through the living room with its worn hardwood floors, brick fireplace, and aged leather sofa next to a beat up recliner, down a hallway and opens a door at the end. “This will be your room.” She gestures for me to enter. The room is adequate size and looks like a guestroom in any other farmhouse; canopy bed covered in a white crochet blanket with pillows to match. Clean and quaint. There’s a small desk on one wall and a dresser on the other.

“There’s another room that’s a little bigger, but I thought you might like this one because it has the desk. The bathroom across from you has a bath, but no shower. You can use my bathroom down the hall for a shower if you’d prefer.”

I’m a little surprised by her thoughtfulness. I half expected her to toss me in a basement. “Thanks. This is great.”

Our gazes lock for a moment and I wonder if she’s trying to size me up again. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re finished and I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the farm.” With that, she closes the door and leaves me staring at the place I’ll be sleeping for the next ninety days. I plop on the bed and shake my head. I miss my shitty apartment in downtown Raleigh. If I were home right now I could be at a Starbucks in two minutes. I could order Chinese and watch my flat screen in my underwear. 

“It’s just for the summer, John,” I remind myself with a grumble. Just then, my cell phone rings and when I pull it from my pocket, Parker is lit up across the tiny screen.

“Hey, asshole. How are you?” I answer, and Parker immediately laughs.

“Not too bad shithead. How’s life down at Green Acres?”

I roll my eyes and run a hand down the back of my neck. Parker doesn’t know everything about my past, but he knows I grew up on a farm and that I never want to go back. He knows Bud paid my way through law school and that’s why I’m working here this summer.

“I’m surviving,” I answer with little conviction.

“How’s the granddaughter? Is she a butter face?” He chuckles, and I groan. Now after meeting Edie, I regret telling Parker about my theory Bud’s granddaughter was probably hideous. I read somewhere, when faced with a problem—my problem being that I find Edie James incredibly hot, but can’t and won’t have anything to do with her—at least not sexually—that you shouldn’t talk about it because it could only intensify the feeling about said issue. So I decide not to tell Parker that Edie on a scale of one to ten is hands down a twelve and that she has an ass no man could resist.

“Eh. She’s okay,” I say casually, and quickly change the subject. “Are you getting any studying done?”

“Shit, man. Hitting up the library every day. Will your master release you to take the Bar?”

“I haven’t mentioned it yet, but I don’t foresee a problem.”

“We’ll go out and party afterwards before you have to head back.”

“Sounds good.”

“Have you heard from Ainsley?”

I fall back on the mattress and run a hand over my face. Ainsley and I have been seeing each other for about two months, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere. She’s ambitious, like me, and hot as hell, but something is missing. I don’t feel the connection. But we have a good time together and she’s pretty good in bed. We agreed to take the summer off and see where we stood when I returned. The truth is I don’t really have time for anything serious.

“Nah, but she wasn’t happy about taking a break this summer.”

“I’m sure you’ll hear from her,” Parker laughs.

“No doubt about that,” I snort. I’m positive Ainsley will be trying to get in touch with me all summer long.

“You’ve got my address, right? Just forward my mail, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, man. No worries.”

“Thanks, Parker.”

“Well, good luck, I’ll talk to you soon.” Parker bids farewell and when we hang up I numbly look around my room. Like it or not, this is my home for the summer.

Thirty minutes later, I find Edie in the kitchen, the mouthwatering aroma of bacon wafting in the air as it sizzles in a pan on the stove. She’s leaned over the counter reading a book, one hand holding a mug, her ample cleavage beckoning my gaze to focus on it. Have I mentioned that Edie James is a beautiful woman? She’s a complicated mixture of innocence and sexiness. There’s an earthy look to her, which has more to do with her makeup free face and relaxed clothing, but everything else screams sex. Her body is small, but her tits are perfect. And her ass…don’t get me started. I mean…
fuck
.

“What are you reading?” I ask, not particularly caring, just trying to make small talk.

Her head snaps up and she closes the book, leaving it on the counter, and spins around to the stove, lifting the lid of the frying pan. “Just some trashy romance novel,” she answers honestly.

I take a seat on a barstool across the island from where she just stood and try not to stare at her ass. Her jeans hang low on her hips, and I can just barely see the top of her lace panties peeking out. They’re hot pink. “You like to read?” I’m horrible at small talk. It’s painful for me. Especially as I try not to imagine her in nothing but those hot pink lace panties.

“I guess so,” she admits with a chuckle. “Kind of an escape. This farm pretty much owns me.”

I pull the novel to me and can’t help the snort that escapes my mouth. The book is titled,
My Lover’s Love
. “Seriously?” Who reads something like this?

“You want to read it?” She arches a mocking brow.

My face heats as I toss the book back toward her. “Nah. I’ll pass.”

She grins and I’m captivated by it. She’s a beautiful woman. Okay, I know I’ve said that many times, but she is, hands down, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen and a part of me wonders if she has any idea. There probably hasn’t been a lot of opportunity for men to dote on her while living here and hiding away on a farm. “Maybe it could teach you something.”

“Doubtful.” I smirk. “I do okay on my own.”

“I bet you do,” she says dryly, and turns back to the stove. What the hell did she mean by that? Does she think I’m some kind of player? To be honest, I’m not. That doesn’t mean I haven’t had one night stands, or girlfriends, or whatever, but I haven’t slept with hundreds of women or anything. Truth be told, I was wilder in my college years, but when I went to law school, I slowed down. Sex came second to achieving my goals.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing,” she chimes merrily, and I roll my eyes when she isn’t looking. Who cares what she thinks. If she wants to believe I’m a man whore, I’ll let her. A minute later she slides a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs over to me with a fork. “You want coffee?”

“That would be great, but I can get it.” I’m a little thrown by her hospitality. It was just yesterday she was trying to get Carl Wayward to find a loophole in her grandfather’s agreement with me.

“You go ahead and eat, I’ve got it.” She busies herself making me coffee and when she slides me the mug she asks, “Cream and sugar?”

“Both, please.” I nod and dig into my breakfast. It’s been a long time since someone’s cooked for me. But this is what farm people do. They make you feel at home. It occurs to me, maybe she still wishes I would leave, in fact I’m sure she does, but to make me feel unwelcome is not how she was raised. People who haven’t lived this life don’t understand. This farm is home to Edie. It’s her pride and joy. It doesn’t have to be fancy and expensive because it’s a part of her. Almost embedded in her DNA. I can see her love of this place in everything she does. The way she wipes the counters after setting anything on it. She immediately washes and dries the dishes, putting them away. Seems simple, I know. But when you work on something like a farm, something you wake and drift to sleep with every night worrying about, something that with just a few clients taking their horses elsewhere for training could end you, you take care of it. You worship it, almost. That’s a feeling I’ve wanted to run far away from. I never want land to own me again.

“So, do you have any experience with horses?” she asks as she puts the frying pan she just washed in the cabinet.

I realize now, Bud’s letter must not have revealed what he did for me and why I’m here. She has no idea I grew up doing the same grunt work she has. She thinks I’m just some city slicker that’s never worked a hard day in his life. “I’m a fast learner,” I answer, and I have to hold back the laugh that bubbles up inside of me when she sighs. She’s thinking on top of everything she has to train me, too.

“Okay. Why don’t you get dressed in something you can get dirty in and meet me out at the
barn.”

I’m going to enjoy this. I glance down at my button-down dress shirt and gray slacks. I had my jacket on when I arrived, but left that in the bedroom. “I can’t wear this?” I ask, faking confusion.

Her eyes go wide as if she’s wondering what planet I hail from. “Do you have any jeans…maybe a T-shirt and sneakers?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got something I can wear.” I shrug.

“Well Daddy Bud was a little smaller than you, but I could dig out some of his shirts at least. They’d probably fit.” And there’s that farm girl hospitality.

“I’ll meet you out at the stables.” I stand and she grabs my plate. “Thanks for breakfast. You don’t have to cook for me.”

“What kind of host would I be if I let you go hungry? Besides, you’ve got a long day of work ahead of you.” She goes about washing the plate and I stroll to my room, dreading the day and months ahead. I ran away from farming and horses, set on getting my law degree, and being here makes me feel like I’m back at square one.

I’d already turned most of the horses out when the suit pulled up this morning. Now, while he dresses, Joey and I are cleaning out stalls. After leaving Carl Wayward’s office yesterday, I decided to honor Daddy Bud’s wishes. If he were alive, he’d want me to treat the suit like he was part of our family. So that’s what I intend to do.

When he arrived this morning, he wore his usual
make me squeeze my legs together he’s, so freaking hot
suit. His hair was slicked back and his face clean shaven. He’s a beautiful man and I’m nervous he may not be able to handle this kind of work. Maybe it’ll be too gritty for him.

“So city boy’s arrived?” Joey shouts as he cleans a stall across from the one I’m in. I nod in answer.

“So he’s really going to spend the summer with you? In your house?” Joey asks as he watches me. He grabs his bottled water and stands at the back of the stall he’s in, facing mine. My grandfather was a genius. When he rebuilt these stables over fifty years ago, he made them double-sided and each one has a trap door in the back that opens up to a conveyer belt. When we clean the stalls, we simply shovel the mess onto the belt between the stalls and let it carry it to the end of the barn. It’s saved us a fortune on labor.

“It’s what Daddy Bud wanted,” I say as I shrug.

“Does he know anything about horses?”

“
Apparently not,” I sigh and reach out my hand for the bottled water he’s holding. He chucks it to me and I fumble as I catch it. We’re like family so drinking after each other isn’t weird.

“You up for this, Edie? You’ve got a lot going on.” He’s asked an excellent question. Am I up for this? I want to honor Daddy Bud’s wishes, but it’s a lot to have to deal with on top of everything else. But I remind myself it doesn’t matter. The suit is moving in and spending the summer with me, whether I like it or not.

“I don’t have a choice,” I reply before taking a big gulp of water and tossing him the bottle back. I know Joey is worried about me, but I really don’t want to talk about this right now. I just need to keep myself busy. “I’m done with this one.” I hint it’s time for him to get back to work and go get some shavings to add to the stalls.

“Sure thing.” He nods. I probably sounded rude, but I need to keep going; keep busy.

One of my exercise riders, Trish, has just made her way back up riding Night Rider, the horse I plan to race to meet one of Daddy Bud’s requirements. He’s been training for about eight months now and he’s fast. “How’d he do?” I ask as Trish slides off.

“Beautiful as usual.”

“Good.” I smile as I rub Night Rider’s side. “You are going to help me save my farm, aren’t you old boy?”

“Who do we have here?” When I turn, my mouth nearly falls open. The suit is dressed in a tight, navy blue T-shirt that reveals every hard muscle underneath, worn jeans, and boots. Apparently he looks sexy in everything he wears.
God, help me.
All I need is to get the hots for the suit. That would just be great. He pats Night Rider’s neck and has an odd expression on his face, but I’m guessing he’s just nervous. He’s not used to horses.

“This is Night Rider and he’s going to place top three in his maiden race in a month,” I answer proudly as Trish leads him away to put him back in his stall.

“Nice looking horse,” he nods and I have to try not to laugh. He has no idea what a nice looking horse looks like, but he’s trying to make conversation so I let it go.

“Let me give you a tour.”

I show him the stables and all of my grandfather’s amazing add-ons. There’s a conveyer belt that takes hay up to the second story of the stables where we drop it into the stalls below. Another huge money savor as it cuts back on labor. I explain what each track is and what it’s used for while he listens intently.

Finally, we head out to the four-wheeler and again I’m impressed when he climbs on behind me and doesn’t question riding instead of driving like most men would. My body tenses momentarily when it makes contact with his. I haven’t been this close to a man in a long time and I hate that it feels so good. Why does it feel good? I barely know him.

I turn the key to start the ignition and groan when it doesn’t start. “Shoot.”

“Let me take a look,” the suit says as he slides off the four-wheeler. He jiggles some wires and messes with some other things and steps back. “Try it now.” I roll my eyes. There’s no way he fixed it. I turn the key and the damn thing starts. Staring at him, t
he shock evident in my eyes, he laughs.

“Didn’t think a suit would know his way around a machine, huh?”

“Maybe a fax machine,” I snort. He climbs on behind me and before I can think about it, my body molds to his as he slides against me. He’s firm, solid as stone, and my mind briefly drifts to the thought of what he looks like naked
. Stop it, Edie!
By the time I realized it’s happened, he tenses as his hands grip my waist. I quickly sit up straight and try to ignore how amazing he smells; like cologne and soap and a hint of sweat.
Damn, I need to get laid.

I take him to the farthest side of the property where the creek is before we head back toward the stables. We search the pastures for anything the horses might eat that they shouldn’t. I point and explain what anything we find is before yanking it up. The suit watches me, seemingly fascinated, but doesn’t question or add anything. I show him the fields that are sharecropped and try to explain the process of farming tobacco. I know the process though, Daddy Bud never farmed it himself.

When we make it back to the stables, I leave the suit with Joey and head into the office/tack room to take care of some paperwork. Around one-thirty we head in for lunch, leaving Glen, one of my other grounds men, and Joey to finish up since all of the horses in training have had their morning workouts. After a sandwich and iced tea, I tell the suit I’m heading into town to pick up a few things and send him back down to get instructions from Joey on what he can do.

I need a little time to myself.