Page 12 of No More Secrets
“All that you have and more,” she said wiggling her fingers toward the mug.
He filled it and handed it over. “Cream’s in the fridge, sugar’s on the counter.”
She shook her head. “I work for a fashion magazine. If you’re going to drink your calories, it’s booze, not cream and sugar.”
That silvery blond hair was pulled back in a perky ponytail. She was wearing a touch of makeup, designer jeans, and brand new hiking boots. Too pretty for a workday on the farm.
“How long have you had those boots?”
“I just got them. Do you like them?”
Carter shook his head. “You’re going to be on your feet all day in brand new shoes.”
She waved his words away. “If I can spend thirteen hours in stilettos, I can walk around in these.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Are you always so adversarial in the mornings?” she asked, frowning at him over her mug.
Only when he spent half the night tossing and turning, trying to force thoughts of a certain baby doll blonde down the hall out of his mind.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asked, ignoring her comment.
––––––––
Over perfectly scrambled eggs and toast that she burned a little, Summer plotted how best to ease Carter into the interview process. Direct personal questions seemed to put his back up and that didn’t help anyone.
She washed down her handful of pills with water and took her dishes to the sink. And then, because they were there, she washed them quickly and put them on the drying rack.
She needed Carter open, and that meant he had to trust her.
“So, let’s talk about the article for a minute before the grand farm tour. Obviously this isn’t going to be some exploitive tell-all. I don’t know if you’ve ever readIndulgence—”
“Do I look like I readIndulgence?”
Summer did a head to toe scan of him. Scarred work boots, another Henley today with a huge hole in the forearm, and those piercing gray eyes.
“No,” she decided. “However,in addition to the usual fashion-led content, we always include a bigger picture feature. Something about improving the world we live in. Last month’s issue was on an American couple working with refugees in Europe.”
“And you think running a family farm ranks up there with offering shelter to refugees?”
“I do.” She nodded earnestly. “What you do here matters. And you’re going to help me tell the story.”
“Fine. I’m just not very comfortable with strangers poking around my life looking for meaning behind every little thing.”
“Well, then you’ll just have to get to know me so I’m not a stranger.”
“Funny,” he said dryly.
They decided on the tour first followed by an afternoon of actual work.
“If there’s anything work-wise that you can’t handle, you tell me.” Carter demanded, grabbing bottles of water out of the fridge. “Don’t try to prove yourself. You could get hurt or destroy crops or burn down the farm.”
Summer grimaced. “Your confidence in me is inspiring.”
They left the safety of the kitchen via the side door and entered the unknown of farm life. Carter was leading the way to the garage across the driveway when something brown and hairy nibbled at Summer’s jeans.
She yelped and grabbed for Carter. Clinging to the waistband of his jeans she peeked around his back.
