Ava awoke a half hour later, plastered again Parker’s body, feeling like she was curled around a furnace.

She took a deep, contented breath. And marveled at that word—contented—and the feeling. She hadn’t taken a nap since she’d had the flu six years ago. She rubbed her cheek against his chest. She was napping in the middle of the day and her phone was not just out of arm’s reach, it wasn’t even in the same building. And she didn’t care.

She lay still for a few minutes, just absorbing the feel of Parker beside her. But slowly, as she came further awake, she started thinking. This was nice. She and Parker were taking the day off. Together. This was epic in many ways. Neither of them had much downtime. And that he’d chosen to spend his with her was really nice.

But she could check a couple of things on her email if he was going to sleep a little longer.

Ava looked up at Parker. He was dead asleep, and she loved the idea that he was also content like this. She doubted very much that he took regular afternoon naps. She wanted to kiss him. Her gaze focused on his mouth and she felt warmth wash through her. But not lusty warmth—though his mouth certainly contributed to her physical pleasure with the things it could do and say—but more of a warmth that just felt…good. She loved when his mouth smiled. The things he said that were sarcastic and funny. And sweet. She loved when he got passionate about cooking and food. He had a way of making being fanatical about cheese seem manly and perfectly reasonable.

She grinned and started to wiggle out from under his arm. She was going to let him sleep. For now. But she wasn’t much for just lying around. She’d check in on a few things and then when he woke up, she’d be all his. A pleasant little shiver went through her. All his. She could definitely get used to that.

Ava pulled on Parker’s shirt and her panties and tiptoed down the stairs, realizing she’d left her phone in his truck. He lived far enough out here that she could probably run out to the truck naked, but she wasn’t a country girl. At all. She had no idea what else could happen to her when she was naked outside. There were bugs, she was certain. That would be a lot of exposed skin for them to feast on. And she supposed it was possible there were wild animals. She wasn’t sure what kind of animals were native to the plains of Kansas—she made a note to look that up once she was safely back inside—but it was possible there were bears or wolves or something, she supposed.

Ava got to the front door before she realized she’d left her shoes upstairs. She peered through the window in the front door, eyeing the wooden porch and the paved path leading away from the steps and the swath of dirt between the end of the path and the truck. The last time she’d been barefoot outdoors, she’d been on the deck of a yacht. She glanced around and noted a pair of dirty, scuffed tan boots that would go past her ankles. They had a thick rubber sole and looked entirely practical for the farm. Which made her grimace slightly. Farm footwear was not going to be her favorite thing. But as she bent to pull them on, Parker’s scent wafted up from the shirt and she smiled. She could maybe put up with some ugly, practical boots once in a while if it meant hanging out here with Parker.

The boots were huge on her, but she laced them tightly enough that she could pick her foot up without the boot slipping off her foot entirely. She shuffled across the porch, down the steps and to the end of the paved path. But as she stepped off onto the dirt, a rooster crowed. She froze, one boot on the path, one on the dirt. She looked around furtively. That sound came from a male chicken. And that was the sum total of her knowledge about roosters. Fuck. She took a deep breath. Okay, roosters were common barnyard animals. And barnyard animals were generally mild-tempered and kept inside pens. At least according to the children’s books she’d read about farms. Surely publishers wouldn’t allow authors to lie to children, right? But then, there were all those books about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Yeah, they would totally lie.

She eyed the truck door, then glanced back at the house. How much did she need her phone? The rooster crowed again and, with her heart thundering in her ears, and gigantic, thousand-pound boots on her feet, she scooted to the truck door, ripped it open, grabbed her phone and was back on the porch within seconds.

Once inside, she leaned against the front door, breathing hard. Damn, doing stairs with weights on her feet as fast as she could while adrenaline pumped had the potential to be a great workout.

She took the boots off and worked to steady her breathing and slow her heart rate as she typed do roosters attack people into the search bar in her phone. The first thing to pop up was How to Deal With Aggressive Roosters. Uh-huh. Ava read it quickly, frowning harder as she delved into the article. When she got to the part that said, “they can even put out a child’s eye”, she’d read enough. Adults most definitely lied to children.

She climbed the stairs to Parker’s bedroom, thinking about the suggestions in the article for dealing with aggressive roosters. They included things like giving them treats, picking them up, or rolling them over with your foot when they attacked. It was all about showing them you were not the enemy but were higher up the food chain than they were. Ava sniffed. She definitely understood that part of it. Sometimes you had to demonstrate your dominance.

But she didn’t want to get that close to a rooster. Or maybe any other barnyard animal. If all the children’s books were lies, then she knew even less about farm life than she’d expected. Which would make dating Parker more difficult. Even temporarily. She had to keep reminding herself that this was not a permanent change in her life. It didn’t matter if she figured out how to deal with farm life.

But…she felt like it did. Because it didn’t have to be temporary. She had a private jet. It wasn’t like she could never see him again once she went back to New York.

Or she wouldn’t have to go back to New York…

Cori wasn’t leaving Bliss. And Ava had been running Carmichael Enterprises from here for four months now, and it was working pretty well. A monthly trip to New York could be enough.

She shook her head as she climbed back up onto the bed next to a still sleeping Parker. Those kinds of thoughts were crazy. What she should be focusing on was that six months was plenty of time to be maimed by an aggressive rooster. But then she looked over at Parker. Really looked at him. And…yeah, her private jet was nice. She’d have no problem traveling between New York and Bliss.

Ava felt a wave of contentment wash over her again as she propped pillows behind her against the headboard. She liked his bed. It was big and comfortable, and he’d probably had it for at least ten years. She also liked his house. It was an old farmhouse that had maybe been repainted here and there but hadn’t really been changed in years. If ever. It was very Parker in that way. She was still surprised when she thought about his childhood in Chicago, but the man he was now, was the guy he was going to be in ten years, fifty years, eighty years. And there was something so comforting, and appealing, about that.

And this house. It was the kind of house that had squeaky steps that you learned to avoid out of habit, and trees in the yard that grew along with the people in the house. His closet was no way big enough for her clothes, or even her shoes, but…they’d deal with that, if needed. She wasn’t ready to downsize her shoe collection—she was falling for him, not going crazy—but if there wasn’t room here, she could turn her bedroom at the house in town into a huge closet.

And she was very much getting ahead of herself here.

Still, she pulled the very-farm-cliché patchwork quilt over her legs and started flipping through the internet on her phone, reading articles about living on a farm.

---

You went and got your phone?”

Twenty minutes later, Ava was reading about canning. Something she could still not picture her father doing. Ever. She looked over at Parker. He was watching her with sleepy eyes and a grim set to his mouth.

“Just until you woke up,” she said. She set the phone on the bedside table. She was not going to be canning. But the farm-life rabbit hole she’d gone down had taken her there. Reading the article about aggressive roosters had led her to alpacas—which, besides having fleece that was amazingly useful, could also be used to guard smaller animals, something Ava begrudgingly found fascinating—which led her to goats—some of the animals an alpaca could protect, which led her to vegetables—she didn’t remember how exactly—which led her to canning. And she’d kept reading because of Rudy.

Ava slid down until she was lying on her side next to Parker. He looped an arm around her, and she was more than happy to press up against his naked form.

“Thought you were going to nap with me,” he said.

“I did for a little bit. I’m not much of a napper.”

“Me either.” He frowned. “Guess I was hoping you’d relax out here with me though.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“You’re on your phone.”

It was too soon to tell him that she’d been reading about farm life. It was too soon to tell him that she could fly back and forth from Bliss rather than going back to New York full-time. It was too soon to even be thinking all of that.

“My phone doesn’t automatically mean I’m not relaxed,” she said with a smile. In fact, usually not being on her phone made her more tense than being on it. She liked to be connected. She’d actually intended to check her email, but she’d gotten caught up in the idea of watching alpacas take care of goats. And now that she was up against Parker, she didn’t care what was in her email. Or about alpacas. Though she did have some lingering anxiety about that rooster.

“I like you in my shirt.”

“I like you out of your shirt.”

He gave her a grin and ran his hand up and down her back. “We’re to the after part, Boss.”

Parker’s deep voice rumbled through her and she shivered with pleasure. Then his words sank in. The after part. The part they wanted to be different. The part she didn’t have a plan for.

Ava pushed up onto her elbow. Parker’s gaze dropped to her bare legs and where his shirt had pulled up to nearly expose her butt, and she felt heat shoot through her. Yeah, maybe they could just keep sleeping together. The plan there seemed pretty clear—let him take the lead, lie back, and enjoy. It was true that she typically took charge of most situations, but she was also really good at recognizing other people’s talents and giving them the opportunity to show them off.

But she pulled the comforter up over her ass. It might be too soon to talk about how she was going to get along on the farm, but it was never too soon to have a plan. They were both expert organizers. They could make this work. “So, we should talk about this. Right? Probably?”

“Talk about what?”

“This next part. Make a plan for what we’re going to do.”

Parker looked at her for a long moment. He ran his hand over her hair, down her back to her butt. Then he gave her a swat and pulled his arm from under her as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. “I don’t think so.”

“What?” She sat up, pulling the comforter with her.

“Thing is,” Parker said, reaching for another shirt draped over the end of the bed and pulling it over his head. “Nothing has gone according to plan between us so far.” He looked over his shoulder and gave her a sexy grin. “And it’s all turned out pretty damned good as far as I’m concerned.” He stretched to his feet, pulling on his boxers and jeans. “So I think we should forget about plans, Boss.”

She watched him dress, thinking how intimate it seemed. And how dressed really seemed the opposite of how she’d like to keep him. And they were going to forget about plans?

But, she couldn’t deny he had a point. Things really did seem to be going well. And the plan had been to bake pie together. Something they still hadn’t done. “So what now then?” she asked.

“Now it’s lunchtime.”

He started for the stairs, but he paused in the doorway and looked back at her. “And don’t bother putting your skirt back on.”

That sounded promising. So Ava followed him, barefoot, to the kitchen. Then through the kitchen to the laundry room. “Um.”

But a moment later, he thrust a pair of jeans and socks at her. “My mom’s a little bigger than you. Taller for sure. But these will work for now. Though we’ll have to get you some of your own, I suppose.”

Ava stared down at the jeans. “I’m going to wear those?”

“Can’t have you traipsing around outside in those heels,” he said.

“I’m going to be traipsing around outside?”

“That’s where the food is.”

She took the clothes as she stared up into his face. He looked so excited. “Why does your mom have clothes here?”

“She helps out with the garden and animals.”

Animals. Plural. She’d been right to start reading, it seemed. But unless he had alpacas, she really only knew about aggressive roosters. “What kind of animals?”

“Chickens. Ducks. Goats. Rabbits. Dogs. Cats.”

“You do have goats?” she asked.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I do. For milk. And fun. My mom loves them.”

She’d read about the advantages to goat’s milk over cow’s milk. And no way was she going to tell him that. “Not cows?”

“Cows are a lot bigger and take more work,” he said.

Then a horrible thought occurred to her. “Do you…eat the chickens?” she asked. She was definitely not ready to watch someone take a chicken from living on his farm to roasted on his table.

He looked amused. “Sometimes. Mostly I use them for eggs.”

“Are we...going to eat one now?” she asked.

He looked at her with a very cute, very puzzled look. “No. I think we’ll stick with meat I’ve already got. If that’s okay?”

“Totally fine,” she said breathing out. She knew that she wasn’t really cut out for farm life. She’d bookmarked a blog called City Girl Goes Rural and another called simply The Farm Wife, but she’d been hesitant to read. For one, that was assuming a lot. For another, she wasn’t sure she wanted to read a whole article that would basically prove she had no business building up daydreams around pickup trucks and chicken coops. Parker owned a diner. She barely understood that and knew there were messy, gross parts to that business. She was sure that the diner had nothing on some of the things that happened on the farm.

“Then what are we going outside for?” she asked. Eggs, possibly. She liked eggs.

“I’ll show you.”

She took a deep breath, then stepped into the jeans. They were too long and a couple sizes big around the middle. She hooked a thumb through one of the belt loops to keep them up. She looked up at Parker. “I don’t think these are going to work.”

“I don’t think I can take you out there without pants on,” he told her, his eyes wandering over her.

“Because of bugs?” she asked. Then she dropped her voice, “Or attack animals?”

Both his eyebrows rose. “Because I’ll want to fuck you on one of my work tables.”

“Oh.” She thought about that and wet her lips. “Would that be so bad?”

“How do you feel about splinters in your ass?”

She didn’t relish the idea, but she was distracted by another thought. “So there aren’t any animals out there that would attack?”

He blinked. “Well…”

“There are?” she asked, her voice rising.

“None that would attack you for walking across the yard,” he said. “And the dogs would definitely raise hell if something came that close to the yard anyway.”

“Something like what?” she asked, aware her eyes were huge and round. “Are there bears out here?”

“Bears? What? No,” he said with a shake of his head. “There are no bears here.”

“Then what?”

“Maybe a coyote.” Parker lifted a shoulder. “Possibly a mountain lion, but not likely.”

“What about roosters?”

Parker blinked at her again. “What about roosters?”

“Are your roosters aggressive?”

“I’ve only got one and…no. What are you talking about?”

“Roosters can be aggressive,” she said, pulling the jeans up slightly.

“Yes. They can. But why are you worried about that?”

“I thought you were worried about it.”

“Why would I be worried about that?” Parker asked, looking more and more confused.

“I thought that was why you didn’t want me going out without pants. Before you mentioned the work table thing.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not worried about you being attacked when you go out there, Ava.”

“Okay, good. So I don’t have to wear pants.”

He sighed. “You’re not worried about the splinters then?”

“Maybe your ass could be the one on the table,” she said with a little grin.

He stepped forward. “You want to ride me on my work table, Boss? I’d put up with some splinters for that.”

“And it will be easier if I don’t have pants on.” She let go of the jeans and they slipped down. She pushed them off and stepped out of them.

Parker shook his head. “Can’t argue with that. But—” he added as she started to step around him. “You have to wear something on your feet. And not your heels.”

“I don’t have anything else.”

“My mom has boots here.”

Ava looked to where Parker was pointing. It was a pair of work boots, a lot like the ones she’d slipped on to go out to the truck, but smaller. She bent and began pulling them on.

“Just like that?” Parker asked.

She looked up. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re just agreeing to put work boots on instead of heels?”

Crap. She couldn’t let on that she’d spent her time reading about farms and that she understood and accepted that boots were far more practical than heels out here. Or that she was worried she was going to have to roll a rooster over with her foot if he got feisty. She pulled the boots on and straightened. “You really think I’m going to fight you about not getting my nine hundred dollar Louis Vuitton pumps covered in goat poop?”

He looked skeptical for a second, but finally said, “I guess I figured you’d go barefoot and I would have to carry you out there.”

“Hmm…” She eyed his biceps. “Now that you mention it…” She moved as if to toe off one of the boots.

“Well, too bad, you look completely adorable and totally fuckable in only my shirt and a pair a boots.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the back door that opened off the laundry room as she was still processing looking adorable and fuckable. In a T-shirt and work boots. If that was the case, she’d been spending way too much time and money on Armani and Prada.

Or maybe not. The last thing she wanted the men around her conference tables thinking of her was “adorable”. With “fuckable” a close second.

“But I swear,” Parker said, as they hit the paved path that led away from the house at the back. “I’m going to get you into blue jeans again sometime, Boss. Worn-out blue jeans. Maybe with a ripped knee and some dirt streaked across the ass.”

“Yeah? What’s that about?” They walked side by side across the yard toward one of the structures she’d noticed when they’d pulled in. It wasn’t a barn, at least not a traditional one, but it was huge with a high, pitched roof. The roof and the walls looked translucent. She could make out forms inside the building, but not what they were exactly.

“Honestly?” he finally asked of her question. “I guess it’s about seeing you a little more a part of my world.”

She tripped. She hadn’t been expecting that kind of answer. She tugged him to a stop. “Seeing me dressed in work boots and jeans makes it more believable that I could fit in here?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Obviously, it’s not about what you’re wearing. But yeah, I guess there’s a part of me that thinks if you can strut around, as confident and kick-ass in work boots and jeans as you do in heels and skirts, then that means you’ve really acclimated. “

“You want me acclimated here?” she asked, her voice softer. Maybe it wasn’t so crazy that she’d been reading about farm life.

He lifted a hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I guess the idea of you sticking around, being comfortable here, is nice.”

She thought about that. And the fact that he would look incredibly hot in a tux, and that she would love to see him wearing one confidently at a party or dinner in New York with her. Yeah, she liked the idea of them fitting into each other’s lives too. A lot.

“I think Armani makes jeans,” she said lightly, trying not to let on how much she suddenly wanted to wear blue jeans.

He shook his head, but he was smiling. “Levis. That you buy downtown.”

She sighed. “So bossy.”

His eyes heated slightly. “Don’t forget it.” Then he started for the big translucent building again. “And since you’re wearing my shirt and my mom’s boots, I don’t have to worry about how dirty I get you.”

She tripped along beside him, not used to the weight of the boots, even though they fit much better than his had. “Like you’ve ever cared about that.”

He just laughed. When they arrived at the door to the building, he pulled it open and ushered her in. But she didn’t get very far inside the door before he had his hands on her hips and her body up against his again. That seemed to be a move he really liked. And it was true that they fit together perfectly this way.

But Ava’s mind was only partially on the feel of the hot, hard man behind her. The rest of it was busy being amazed at what she was looking at.

It was a greenhouse. Clearly. The building was filled with long wooden tables covered in pots and boxes that held a variety of plants. Ava wasn’t sure she’d ever realized how many shades of green actually existed in plant leaves, stems, and vines. More plants hung from wooden arches, some in pots, some just meandering freely. There were even some trees. Trees. Indoors. They were small, but still. The air smelled like soil and sunshine. Ava was sure she’d never thought about how sunshine smelled. Or maybe she’d never really smelled it. But this scent was fresh and earthy and somehow clean even as it was coming from dirt. Amazing.

“Wow, Parker, this is all yours?”

He pressed into her, and she felt the hard ridge of his erection against her butt. “Every inch.”

She laughed at the juvenile quip but couldn’t resist wiggling against him. “I meant the plants. This is what you do during the hours you close the diner?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

He kissed the side of her neck, running his lips up and down and making sparks shoot to her nipples. They hardened against the soft cotton of his shirt and she moaned. His fingers curled into her hips. “Let me give you a tour.”

He ran his hands over the dip of her waist to her ribs. “Along the sides are the garden plants that like more sun.” He moved one hand over her belly, then up between her breasts. “The middle has less sun and is where the plants like lettuce and spinach are. Toward the back on the left,” he went on, cupping her left breast, “are a couple of dwarf orange trees. And on the right—” He moved to cup that breast as well, “—is a strawberry patch.” He tugged on her nipple, and his voice dropped low as he said, “You have to be gentle when plucking those.”

Ava was panting but enjoying the “tour” immensely.

“On the shelves are herbs. And over there, on that mound—” He slid his hands down and into her panties.

Ava gasped and clutched his wrist. “Parker.”

“—is the corn, squash, and beans.” He slid the pad of his finger over her clit. “Those three grow well together.” He circled and pressed. “The corn stalks in the middle give support to the bean plants.” He slid his finger lower and into her to his middle knuckle. “And the squash leaves give shade that prevent weeds.”

Ava didn’t care at all about beans or squash, but she loved having Parker’s hands on her. And strangely, garden words like stalks and mounds made her even hornier. Okay, maybe that made sense, even if these were mounds of dirt.

“So do you want your front or back dirty?” he asked.

“Either. Both. Just please tell me you’re talking about sex dirty and not dirt dirty,” she answered, breathlessly as his fingers moved over her clit.

“You didn’t mind food dirty,” he said gruffly against her ear. “And good potting soil is essentially the start to food.”

He had a point. He’d also slipped his two middle fingers into her, so she was pretty much ready to agree to anything.

“Hey, yeah. You have strawberries in here.” Her eyes slid closed and her head fell back against his chest as he continued to play between her legs. “We could have gone strawberry picking that very first day after all.”

“Yeah.” He pumped his fingers deeper.

“But you didn’t want me here. In your greenhouse then,” she said as that realization dawned even as he walked her forward to the wooden table in front of her.

There were no pots on the very end, but potting soil was scattered over the surface along with a variety of green and brown leaves.

“This is like letting someone into my kitchen,” Parker admitted.

Ava knew he meant the kitchen at the diner, not in his house. And she got the message loud and clear. This—and his kitchen—were more intimate than even his bedroom. And that was as much a turn-on as his mouth against the back of her neck and the one hand teasing her nipple while the other worked his finger magic between her legs.

So when Parker leaned his chest into her back, bending her forward to the table, Ava went willingly. In spite of the dirt. Hell, maybe because of it. When he slid the shirt she wore up over her ass, she pulled it up further, over her breasts. She felt the mix of softness and grit underneath her, abrading her nipples and shooting surprising jolts of pleasure through her body.

“God, yes, Ava,” Parker muttered. He stripped the shirt off of her entirely, pulled her panties to her ankles, and gripped her hips. “And I thought fucking you in heels was hotter than hell.” He lifted one of her thighs, setting her foot—in the work boot—on the table’s lower shelf. “Brace your hands,” he almost growled.

Ava straightened her elbows as she heard his zipper, the sound of his jeans rustling and then a condom wrapper tearing. “Parker,” she said softly, the need in her voice clear.

He reached past her and knocked a glass jar to its side. Clear liquid ran over the table. He swirled his hand through what she assumed was water and the dirt, then lifted his hands to her breasts.

She gasped as he painted the cool mud over her breasts and nipples, then down her stomach to her hips. Then he thrust. He sank into her easily and they both groaned, and he paused. But only for a moment. He pulled out and sank deep gain, slowly, but Ava moved along with him the next time, craving the friction and fullness. She pressed against the tabletop, the mud slick under her left hand, the rough wood under her right hand keeping her from slipping completely. Parker’s thrusts quickly picked up tempo.

“Ava…fuck. Touch yourself. You gotta come, Boss.”

“You,” she panted, her clit aching.

“Dirty hands,” he muttered, squeezing her hips and thrusting deeper.

She reached between her legs with her clean hand, needing pressure against that aching spot as he filled her over and over.

He tugged a nipple as he bit down gently on the spot where her neck met her shoulder and she shot into orbit. He gripped her harder and thrust faster when he heard his name bouncing off the walls of his greenhouse. He shouted her name only a few moments later.

He pulled out almost immediately and turned her quickly to face him. He took in the sight of her, covered in streaks of mud from his hands. His mud. Then he bracketed her face with his still muddy hands and pulled her in for a hot, deep, sweet kiss.

When he finally let her go, she smiled up at him, her heart feeling strangely full. “So gardening, huh?” she asked.

He laughed and pulled her in to kiss the top of her head. “Yeah. Gardening.”