Page 67 of Till The Cows Come Home
People began arriving whether we were ready or not and I couldn’t help but feel joy as my favorite people surrounded me to help bear the weight. Miles and I shared the sentiment that the results of this lunch didn’t determine an outcome, it just determined the timeline, but I couldn’t help feeling the pressure that lingered as the matter’s fate was decided. Ruby helped me lay out the sandwich trays while my mother squeezed lemons for fresh lemonade, and once everything was settled we beckoned over our visitors to dig in.
The groups arrived, most being led by men, and as they climbed the steps to where we’d situated the picnic on the porch, Miles introduced me to each one. When they began talking business, he involved me in every conversation, making it clear I had just as much importance in the decision-making process as he did. And after everyone had made it through the buffet we’d set out and was seated comfortably littered about the porch, Miles stood.
“Hello everyone,” he announced, clearing his voice to grab the attention of everyone seated sporadically around the tables we’d arranged around the porch. “I wanted to thank you allfor coming and I figured I might as well get right to business. Sage and I are hoping to start construction as soon as possible, hell I’d start tonight if I could, and we’d love any support we can get. I know schedules are tight, but we were hoping to have multiple crews work together in order to complete this job in record time. Please don’t feel pressured to come forward now, but if you find this job to be a possibility, I’d love to sit down and talk before you leave at the end of the night.”
I squeezed his leg as he took his spot back next to me at the table.
“Give them five minutes for mom’s lemonade to soak into their systems and they’ll beg to stay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, now eat, so you stop staring at them.”
He nodded, pushing his food around his plate, sweat collecting on his brow as he silently surveyed everyone that had shown. I could feel the rhythm of his leg bouncing next to me, his nerves tangible through the rise and fall of the tempo between his foot and the deck boards.
Before he was able to make a dent in his meal, we were approached by a gentleman with a worn shirt and stained hands.
“Care to go for a walk?”
We both nodded, rising for what would cascade into the first of many similar conversations. The man introduced himself as Mr. Braget, who walked with us to the edge of the now cleared ruins, before almost immediately offering his assistance, and when we attempted to talk about wages he raised a hand, silencing our inquiries.
“No need. If something like this happened to my little girl, I’d hope someone would do the same. Just pay it forward when you can.”
We thanked him, promising food and refreshments daily,and no sooner than we’d arrived back at our seats did another group approach us.
I couldn’t help but cherish the ways farmers and the like communicated, straight and to the point. Most of them didn’t have time to toy around with pleasantries, instead saying exactly what they were thinking, which for many was that they just didn't have the resources to help anymore. Those conversations were deemed just as valuable as the former, and by the end of the night, we surfaced with a combination of two farmers and two contractor crews ready to start whenever the materials touched the property.
And if Miles had his way, they would be here by the end of the day.
I caught him before he dialed another call, gripping his wrist before he was able to raise his phone back to his ear.
“Don’t forget to celebrate your victories, lumberjack.”
I squealed as he scooped me up onto the porch railing, my face reddening as he nudged my legs open for him to step between them.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, nestling his forehead against mine.
Everyone had dissipated with promises to make contact tomorrow, waiting on us to iron out the details, and Miles had started checking on permits and ordering lumber the moment he found out how quickly we were going to be able to move forward.
“We did it,” I exhaled, leaning into his chest.
“We did it,” he echoed, tipping his head until his lips were on mine.
I hummed in response, parting my lips to allow his tongue deeper access. And for a moment it seemed like there was nothing else, no giant looming responsibility to tend to. But after a few moments Miles pulled back just slightly, bracing his hands on the railing, bracketing my hips.
“We have a lot of work to get done tonight.”
“We do,” I agreed, trailing my hands down his chest until they settled at his belt, my fingers grazing the bare skin of his lower stomach.
“Sage,” he warned, but his stern tone had the opposite effect he intended, doing nothing but make me desire him more.
I slid my hand deeper until his hardened cock twitched against my touch. All it took was a few strokes until I was airborne, Miles hauling me off the porch railing through the house. I chuckled at his restraint, impressed that we even made it inside before he folded.
He stopped at the end of his bed, lowering me with a gentleness that mirrored the care and detail he put into everything regarding his life, cupping my head to insure it rested comfortably before he released me. Once I was settled beneath him, he stood, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt from behind his neck, pulling it over his shoulders in one swoop before settling back between my legs. I’d chosen another sundress for lunch, trying my best to appear as the sweet farmer's daughter, which now left a thin sheet of fabric separating our bodies. Miles' mouth crashed against mine, catching the moan that escaped as the roughness of his jeans rubbed between my legs, igniting my desire. His kisses slowed but didn’t lessen in intensity, his hand cupping my chin as he deepened his access, allowing his tongue the ability to fully consume my mouth.
He paused just long enough to shed his jeans onto the floor, and the roughness of his jeans was replaced by the smoothness of his shaft, sliding it along my panties. It felt like silk, gliding along the wetness that had pooled, and I couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped as the pressure began to build. I’d felt desire for Miles countless times, but this felt different, deeper almost. We didn’t want this, we needed it. The carnal longing to be so close to one another was so severe that only aphysical connection could tamp down the fire burning inside us.
“Sage,” he panted.
