Chapter Twenty-Two
“Baby, I love you, but spades ain’t your thang.”
Annabelle was escorting Graham to Max and Georgie’s front porch to say goodnight. He’d come back after dinner at the inn, and they’d spent the evening playing spades with Max, Georgie, Nate, and Val. The older couple had trounced them all royally.
Afterward, they’d Skyped with Edith and Rory, who was having the time of her life with her new friends.
“Hi, Mr. Ram! Hi, Mummy!” Rory wiggled her fingers at them before pointing behind her to a little girl sitting cross-legged on the bed with a haphazard bow hanging off her head and a woeful look on her face as a boy stood behind her patiently trying to fix it. Her large gray eyes were filled with sadness at her predicament. “That’s Ruby. She’s my new friend. She’s sad because her brother, baby Jack, pulled her bow out. That’s her cousin D.J. He took baby Jack to Gigi and Ms. Vivi.”
The little boy glanced up, and his eyes lit up with recognition when they focused on Graham. He finished fixing Ruby’s bow then made his way over to the laptop and sat down next to Rory. He was a cute kid with dark red hair and big brown eyes. D.J. nodded respectfully at Graham and Annabelle. “Hey, Uncle G., Ma’am. How are you this fine evenin’?”
“Hey, D.J.,” Graham grinned at the natural-born charmer. “I’m doing just fine. How’s school going?”
D.J. shrugged. “Reckon’ I can’t complain. I’ve got all A’s, but now that you mention it, I am havin’ a little trouble with geography.” He slow blinked Graham, causing his hackles to rise suspiciously, and innocently asked, “Is Camille around by chance? Maybe she could help me out.”
Graham’s smile flatlined, and upon seeing it, Annabelle giggled at his now thunderous face. “Boy, don’t play that game with me! You want to talk to my niece, you follow the chain of command and go through her daddy first. You know the rules.”
“Heard a rumor that if you obey the rules, then you miss out on all the fun, Uncle G,” D.J. drawled. Graham made a mental note on how to build an electric fence around his niece without shocking her.
“Do I need to ban your visits to Baymoor? You do know her daddy is the sheriff, right?”
“Can you blame me for tryin’?”
After Graham threatened to call his daddy, D.J. disappeared, and they chatted a little more with Rory before speaking with Edith, who assured them that everything was fine.
Annabelle pinched his ass. “Like I’m with you because of your spade-playing abilities! So what if I’m not great at it? Will spades help you with a breached birth? I don’t think so, buddy.”
“Tonight, your trash-talking is level with your subpar spades game.” Graham dropped down one step, which almost brought them eye-level. “Gimme some sugar, Doc.”
“You really not tryin’ to make me lose my breath tonight, Mr. Carlton?” Annabelle purred into Graham’s ear as her hand trailed down his chest to his abdomen while nuzzling his beard. Lawd, he smelled so good. Like citrus, something woodsy, and verbena. Annabelle could feel his muscles flexing beneath his denim shirt at her touch, and she smiled into his soft beard. “Anything I can do to persuade you to change your mind? Did I mention that I brought my stethoscope and lab coat to pair with these boots?”
“Well dayyyum, girl.” Graham’s hand slid through her curls as he drew her face to his and captured her parted lips with his. He made love to her mouth, stirring the embers of desire that lay just beneath the surface of their skin since their shameless afternoon romp. “Pleeaase seduce me.”
When they finally broke apart, Graham pressed his forehead to hers, and Annabelle raked her nails over his bald head and drew his bottom lip between hers. “I love the way you hold me, Mr. Carlton. It’s an affirmation, should I ever need one, of why you’re the only one for me. You’re so confident. I can just feel how hard you’re riding for me. You do know the feeling is one hundred percent reciprocated, right?”
Graham drew the soft skin covering the pulse at her neck into his mouth. “I appreciate that, but you didn’t need to tell me, Doc. We both know what this is and there are no definitions for it. As long as we understand it, an explanation won’t ever be needed.”
“Fucking sweet-talker.”
“Says the anaconda charmer,” Graham teased, wagging his eyebrows lecherously as he pressed her closer, allowing to feel his heavy erection that was ever present in her company. He winced when she plucked his ear. “What did everyone say when you told them about babygirl?”
Under the porchlight, Graham could see the excitement in Annabelle’s sparkling eyes as she grinned, recalling the stunned expressions that rapidly turned to eagerness to see Rory. She’d been a little worried that people would associate her with Davis and wouldn’t be receptive, but that hadn’t been the case. “They can’t wait to meet her! Camille especially. I’m sure you know this already, but she’s absolutely perfect and thinks the world of you. They all do, baby. You’re a lucky man to have so many beautiful spirits in your life.”
While Annabelle was loading the dishwasher, the little girl had volunteered to help before going horseback riding.
“Uncle Graham is the best, Ms. Annabelle. He’ll be a great father to Rory. He’s never broken a promise and will teach her everything. Uncle Graham will never disappoint you or her,” Camille said solemnly as she brought the dishes over to the counter. She paused and Annabelle could tell that she was debating how much to say. Throughout lunch, Annabelle noticed Graham’s niece assessing her. She assumed that Camille had finally come to a conclusion.
“Camille, I love your uncle as much as he loves me and plan to be around for a long time. I’d like to get to know you, so please say whatever is on your mind,” Annabelle urged her.
“If you insist, Ms. Annabelle.” Her little chin jutting with determination, Camille pulled up the sleeves of her red cardigan to rinse the dishes then hand them to Annabelle. “My uncle is the coolest person I’ve ever met. Don’t tell my dad, grandpa, or Uncle Max I said that, but Uncle Graham is!” Camille frowned up at Annabelle. “I hope your intentions are honorable toward him, Ms. Annabelle. If not, you’ll have to answer to me.”
“What she means is all of us, Annabelle. Issa family affair.” Eliza came to stand next to her daughter, as well as Georgie and Aunt Val, forming an attractive, well-dressed united front that allowed Annabelle to see the crazy in their eyes. It let Annabelle know they weren’t playing games when it came to Graham and his feelings. “He’s never brought anyone home, and he obviously cares for Rory. Graham is the best of us. Don’t hurt him, Annabelle.”
The ‘or else’ was heavily implied and reeked of dire consequences if she foolishly didn’t heed their words. Annabelle wasn’t offended in the least. She loved the fact that they cared enough about him to warn her off.
“I won’t hurt him, ladies. You have my word. Graham and I are in this for the long run,” Annabelle vowed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m the luckiest of men, Doc.” Graham kissed the tip of her nose as he rubbed her back in languid circles. Annabelle snuggled into his warmth, trailing kisses down his throat and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans as the cold night fell over them. “Nobody’s got it better than me with you by side and them at my back.”
***
Annabelle’s alarm went off at four-thirty in the morning. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Without waiting for it to warm up, Annabelle stripped and stepped under the icy spray. Biting back her squeal, she endured the coldness until the hot water infiltrated the water system. Careful to keep her wrapped hair away from the pounding water, Annabelle showered efficiently before hopping out and drying off. She slathered herself in shea butter and Eucerin to protect her skin from the freezing temperatures she’d grown unused to.
Last night, Annabelle had tossed and turned in the bed formerly occupied by Graham. She’d wondered what he was doing while she lay, going out of her mind with need for him. As soon as she saw him later today, she planned on letting him know how displeased she was with this arrangement. It didn’t help that she could hear Georgie and Max below her, laughing and loving on each other long into the night.
After dressing warmly in long johns, jeans, a cable-knit black sweater, and knee-high wellies, Annabelle unwrapped her hair, unraveled her Bantu knots, and shook her hair out. She applied lip balm and grabbed her black and cream Fair Isle scarf before leaving her room.
In the hallway, she was bombarded by the aroma of something frying. Was that chicken? Annabelle checked her phone. It was five-ten in the morning. Who was frying chicken this early? She headed downstairs to the second level where Max was coming out of his bedroom, already dressed for the day as well, Georgina was right behind him tucked into a navy and burgundy striped chenille robe. They all stopped, surprised to see each other.
“Good morning. I thought you were cooking.” Georgie waved at Annabelle with a yawn. “I usually get up with Max and eat breakfast with him before going back to bed for a while longer then heading to work.”
“Even though I tell her it’s not necessary and that she should sleep in,” Max reminded his wife affectionately while smoothing down her pixie cut. “It must be Betty. She usually gets in at six in the morning. Though she did mention that she and Hank had a stepping party last night.”
Betty Stratton was the housekeeper and had been with Cinnamon Farms for as long as Annabelle could remember. Every time she’d visited the farm, the older black woman had something ready for Annabelle to eat.
Max sniffed the air. “Is that coffee?”
Annabelle took a whiff as well. “Mmmm, why yes, I do smell the aroma of that lovely caffeinated coping mechanism that determines daily whether my powers will be used for good or evil. Let’s go!”
Annabelle hustled ahead of them down the stairs and hallway, with Sherlock and Watson, the couple’s black, white, and tan Australian shepherds nipping at her heels. She skidded to a halt in the kitchen entrance at the sight of Graham making four plates. He was dressed in black jeans, a charcoal turtleneck, black beanie, and black Timberlands. Over his clothes, he wore a checked red and white apron with frills that should have looked ridiculous, but instead, he gave it a touch of masculine flair.
Graham looked up and treated Annabelle to an intense head-to-toe perusal that left her feeling overheated in her layers. His greeting was meant for everyone, but his eyes remained on Annabelle. “Morning, y’all.”
“What are you doing here so early?” Annabelle crossed the room and gave him a kiss, whispering in his ear. “I missed you last night, Mr. Carlton.”
“I missed your hardheaded butt too, Doc.” Graham’s sour mood at sleeping alone receded, knowing he was not alone in his feelings. “To answer your question, I’m here to make my baby breakfast.”
“I don’t normally let another dude call me that and get away with it, but it smells so good in here, I’ll let that shit ride, but only for breakfast,” Max joked as he poured four cups of coffee and Georgina poured glasses of orange juice. “What are we eating?”
“Does this mean that you’re not mad at me anymore?” Georgina wiggled her eyebrows at Graham over the rim of her coffee mug. “Max was very persuasive in helping me see the error of my ways last night, big brother.”
“Clearly, you’re a slow learner because he was still ‘persuading’ you into the early morning hours. I stopped counting after the third time,” Annabelle grouched and Georgie choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken.
“You know she’s on a learning curve, so of course, I had to go slow and take my time, A.B.,” Max replied then jumped out of reach of his irate wife’s hand-swatting. “Make sure she understood what I was lay-, er, saying.”
Graham’s good humor was fully restored at Annabelle’s surliness. It was Annabelle’s turn to choke on her orange juice when he set a plate with a golden, fluffy, buttery biscuit split in two with chicken fried chicken and gravy over it, topped with eggs over easy and sprinkled with chives and whispered in a voice promising unlimited intimate adventures, “That could be us too, Doc, but you’re over here blockin’ this blessing and the bonus vitamin D package it comes with.”
“Ewwww! Did he really just say that while I’m trying to eat?” Georgina gagged, her annoyance at Max now redirected toward her brother. With a baleful stare, she pointed her fork at him, waving it threateningly. “I don’t need that visual in my head, big brother.”
Graham awarded her a Cheshire cat grin. For months, his sisters had been tormenting him with the flagrantly amorous affection they displayed with their significant others in front of him. When living here, Graham had lost count of how many times he’d wanted to take Max apart for the sounds he made Georgie produce that no brother should ever be subjected to hearing. The sound of chalk down a chalkboard held more appeal to Graham.
Calmly, he fixed her plate while Annabelle and Max discussed this morning’s farm routine. Graham set the plate in front of her and spoke under his breath, “You sure you don’t want to hear about how she just can’t get enough of my co—”
“Aaaargh!” Georgie shouted and covered her ears as Annabelle and Max gave them questioning looks. His baby sis looked positively green at his words. “You’re disgusting!”
“Whaaaat? I was just gonna say coffee,” Graham replied innocently then laughed evilly in Georgina’s shocked face as he took the seat next to Annabelle, across from his sister and raised his juice class to her. “Payback’s a bitch, fam. Stay strong.”
Alexei was right. Vengeance was sweet and rewarding.
***
After breakfast, Graham went back to the Cashmere Inn to start breakfast for the guests, and Annabelle left with Max for the main office, next to the large cherry-red barn, to speak to Donna Courtland, Cinnamon Farms’ office manager and get her new hire paperwork situated. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the roosters were crowing at the top of their lungs, and there was a light fog that was slowly dissipating with the biting wind. Annabelle was eager to get to work. She’d always loved this place. One of a few black-owned farms around, Cinnamon Farms was also one of the busiest farmsteads in Wilkins County, with a great breeding program for horses, cows, geese, pigs, ducks, sheep, chickens, and turkeys.
Like his uncle before him, Max was community-oriented and opened the farm gates to the public during certain times of the year. For fall, the pumpkin patch and fields were used for hayrides, corn mazes, and picking pumpkins. During winter, when the lake froze, it became the local ice skating rink. With spring, came the big Easter egg hunt and carnival. Since the opening of the Cashmere Inn, he’d added activities like culinary classes and farmstead classes where guests would interact with Tavish and Trevor, the Master Gardener, who would teach them the “farm to table concept”. Brad Dutchens, Cinnamon Farms’ head of the cheese-making and charcuterie, was also available to educate guests on cheese and cured/smoked meats selections.
“You’re like a kid ready for the first day of school and damn near skipping,” Max teased her as she swung her vet bag and hummed under her breath. “It’s good to have you back, A.B. I don’t know if Georgie mentioned it or not, but I haven’t been satisfied with the hospital’s services. As you know, I never cared for Davis, but after that piece of shit ran off and Brenton was dead, the board has brought in vets that are clearly in it only for the money. I see no compassion for the animals. Everything is extremely clinical and most of the time, the animals refuse to cooperate.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Max,” Annabelle said sincerely. “Animals are so finely attuned to their environment and human counterparts that it completely alters their psyche when they’re uncomfortable. If you’d like, I can meet with the doctors and vet them for you for the best compatibility match.”
Max slapped his work clothes covered thighs in frustration. “I don’t even want to deal with those hospital knuckleheads. I feel like they’re holding a grudge against me for Davis’s cowardly actions and the pressure I’ve put on them after what happened to Gus! Fuck ‘em. I was thinking of hiring a concierge vet from out of state.” Max stopped walking to consider her, his black eyes alive with speculation. “Unless you want the job? A.B., if you say yes, I promise to give you carte blanche of the entire farm. You know I trust you implicitly with the animals. If you say yes, I’ll have an office with an examining room built specifically to your design. You could even accept patients from town if you’d like.”
Wow. Two promising job proposals in less than a week. Except where Annabelle had reservations about accepting Linda’s offer, Max’s felt like fate. The rolling hills of the farm and the noises of the animals waking up for the day were the sweetest sights and sounds that Annabelle had feared never hearing again. Already, she envisioned Rory running around the farm, making herself right at home. Accepting Max’s position felt… right.
“Yes!” She blurted out then grabbed his arm, searching his surprised face. “Max, are you sure about this? That you want me to have this position? I heard about Gus, and I’m so sorry that happened. It’s all my fault, and I accept full responsibility.”
Max put his hands on her shoulders firmly. “Annabelle. That didn’t happen because of you. It happened because Fowler is an unhinged psychopath who made the mistake of threatening Georgie. So what do you say?”
“I’d need to go back to Furla, give notice, and pack up.”
Max released her with a huge grin. “How does three months from now sound?”
By then, hopefully, Davis wouldn’t be looming over her head. “Great! That will give me enough time to get my affairs in order.”
At the office, Annabelle received a warm reception from Donna, Cinnamon Farm’s office manager, who went over the new hire packet with her before meeting Max at the mobile chicken coops that were rotated around the farm. Today, they were located on the opposite side of the barn. Annabelle wasn’t surprised that Max had continued to stick with his uncle’s tradition of raising only Plymouth Rock, Sussex, and Delaware chickens. Next, they moved to the barn and were greeted by Laura Stickler, the horse breeding manager. Like Donna, the small blonde woman was happy to see Annabelle, and she was leading Apache, Max’s prized stallion.
“Hey, boy. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Annabelle stroked his gleaming black coat and rubbed the diamond-shaped white spot in the center his forehead. She rubbed her forehead against the side of his neck and hugged him. “Laura, he looks really good! No signs of abnormal gait, equine influenza, tetanus, or distemper?”
“This guy’s as fit as a fiddle, Doc. We’ve followed your strict regimen and diet for all the horses and have never seen signs of any illnesses,” Laura reported proudly.
Her assistant led a white palomino with soft brown eyes and brown spots on her hindquarters. Annabelle recognized her instantly and gave her the same affection she’d given Apache. “Hey, Lady!”
“She’s Georgie’s horse now, but she wanted you to ride her today,” Max informed her. “Feel like riding today? I can show you all the expansions we’ve done.”
“Let’s go!” Annabelle assisted Laura with her saddle and soon, she and Max were trotting off behind the barn and past the Larder, a smaller white barn where cheese was made. Annabelle could see they’d moved the rows of cows, sheep, and pig pens back, a mile away, and that was the direction they headed in.
When Annabelle left, they were only carrying two breeds of dairy sheep, the East Frisian from northern Germany, one of the best in terms of milk from ewe, and Karakul sheep, from the desert regions of Central Asia. Nothing had changed, she noticed as she glanced around, looking for a hybrid sheep but saw none. “Max, I thought you were going to cross these two breeds and create a flock that efficiently produced the most milk possible from the pasture available here?”
“That’s still my plan, but as I said before, the trust I have in those vets to care for them leaves a lot to be desired,” he replied darkly.
They moved on to the pigs. Currently, Cinnamon Farms carried three breeds: Herefords, Durocs, and Gloucestershire Old Spot pigs.
Annabelle scanned the pigs,searching for any obvious signs of illness but saw none. “Have you thought about incorporating Berkshire pigs? I know the Durocs are usually show pigs and you get your pork, ham, and salami for charcuterie from them, but the Berkshire pigs are also an excellent choice for farmers who want to raise livestock with a legacy, and taste consumers appreciate. The only downside is that they are smaller than these pigs here.”
Max nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking of incorporating some just to see how well they do. Especially around those temperamental Herefords. I’m thinking of eliminating the G.O.S. since they’re easily prone to sunburn. I know a farmer who’d pay a pretty penny for them up north.”
“Maybe you could make them your show pigs instead? I know the Durocs are the obvious choice, but surely, it’s worth a try?” Annabelle wheedled. “I know what farm you’re talking about, and it looks just like the one in that Hannibal Lecter movie!”
Max threw his head back and laughed at her. “Doc, you haven’t changed one bit! Always trying to save all of the animals! Keeping you around is gonna put me in the poor house for sure. It’s damned good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Max,” Annabelle said quietly, “for everything.”
“No, Annabelle; thank you,” Max said just as quietly, sincerity ringing in his voice. “You’re good for my brother. His happiness is my wife and sister-in-law’s happiness as well. The Carlton siblings don’t open up to and accept just anybody into their lives. Take good care of his heart.”
“I plan to. Now, stop talking and prepare to eat my dust!” Annabelle took off at a brisk pace with Max galloping behind as they rode the horse trail and the sun rose over the hills.
There really was no place like home.