Page 10

Making Bad Decisions

I take back what I said yesterday.

The spare bedroom led to finding what I can only describe as a drool-worthy collection of shoes and a bunch of junk that ended up in the trash stacks. The office was a total bust, and I couldn’t be more disappointed by the lack of… anything… that seemed important or mysterious. My only saving grace was that I stored all the documents for later and created a stack of questions for when I have Jackson come down and catch me up on the all the estate shit.

Looking at the computer screen, I sigh. I’ve been putting off heading towards the farm by spending the last couple of hours ordering furniture, bedding, and all the house shit I’m going to need to make this place mine. Jekyll and Hyde went out in the back for a bit while I did so, hopefully getting out the abundance of energy they woke up with.

According to the internet, it’s not uncommon for cats to be lazy as hell and then full of energy, especially a designer breed like those two.

Cleaning up the breakfast mess I’d left, I poke my head out the back door to see them bounding around. I ordered the glasses and about a hundred other idiotic pet owner things for them, but I need to order collars and sensors for a cat door. I’m sure that I can get Gene to install it if I get whatever new-fangled what-sit I find on the ‘Zon. I’d like them to have independence. They look at me as if I’ve called their names before they go back to terrorizing the birds in the landscaping.

I guess it’s okay to leave them to their frolicking while I go get ready for this… date.

Jesus. I don’t remember the last time I had anything besides an escort to an event or a one-night stand. It’s not like I usually have men in my home… My cheeks burn bright red as I remember the other night, and I shake my head to clear it. Edgar was a mistake with a capital ‘M’ and I’m not going to let that ever happen again. Aggravated and embarrassed, I stride upstairs to throw on clothes suitable for riding horses, vowing to ignore the hot young vet while I get the lay of the land at the Cantwell’s farm.

I dig through the boxes stacked in the master, finding the one marked equestrian and pull out what I need. After I lay out my clothes and boots, I head into the bathroom. I refuse to get too dolled up because I’m only going to see the animals. A few swipes with mascara and shadow and a high ponytail later, I feel like I’ve done enough to appear acceptable if any of the Cantwells are lurking about.

Tugging on a totally unsexy pair of undies that won’t chafe, I grin a little. At least I won’t get tempted by undergarments while I’m trying not to stare at the smoking hot genius. Boot socks come next, then breeches, dress boots, and finally a tight short-sleeved shirt. I grab my favorite pair of gloves, looking around to make certain I didn’t forget anything. Once satisfied, I head downstairs, whistling to call the boys in.

Jekyll and Hyde zoom inside, looking happy and ready to rock. I stuff my gloves into my messenger bag and frown as I put on my sunglasses. Everywhere in town has been accommodating about my shadows coming with me, so I’m going to assume that the Cantwells ranch will be the same. If nothing else, they can run in one field as long as they stay out of hoof range.

“Okay, boys. We’re going for a ride. Promise to behave and for the love of everything that’s holy, don’t let me do anything stupid this time.”

They look at one another, then at me, and if cats could shrug, I’m fairly sure that’s what they’d be doing.

Great. Some protectors they are.

* * *

I pull up to the sprawling horse farm with music streaming from my open windows. My companions are pulling their hyena trick again, and the workers we pass point at them as I slide into a spot in the employee lot. I’m not an employee, obviously, but I plan on helping to exercise the horses, so you could call me a future employee.

That’s close enough, right?

Looking at the servals, I put on a stern expression. “So, for real, my dudes. You can get out and roam. People might even feed you—that’s all good. All I need you to promise is that you won’t kill any of their animals or plants and you won’t scare anyone unless they’re threatening me. And this gorgeous young vet guy is gonna want to look at you for a few, so let him do it.”

They look at me with wide eyes before dipping their heads and letting out a resounding, “ Mow !”

“Cool. Just be cool and I’ll get you nice, thick steaks tonight instead of meatballs. Also… don’t let me do anything stupid? Please?”

I can’t believe I’m asking my erstwhile, uninvited pets to babysit me, but this week has taught me I’m feral and I do need watching until I re-integrate into society.

“Mrrrp?” Hyde asks, tilting his head as if that’s a silly request.

He’s right.

“Yeah, barge in and be cute or something if I’m fucking up. I don’t care. Just stop me.” Heads bob again, and I sigh, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Let’s rock.” Rolling out of the Impala, I adjust my shades and look around.

They filled the entrance to the farm with all the Southern finery of a big house, apple trees, and landscaping—a tour set up, I’d guess. Horse racing is big business in this state, and people come from far and wide near Derby and Keeneland season. They love to tour the Bourbon Trail and the horse farms to get the ‘flavor’ of the area. I saw the visitor trails, picture perfect fountains and statuary, and the steeples from the road.

However, the employee side of the farm is buzzing with activity. Grooms walking foals, mares, and studs along paths slowly have their heads down as they watch to make sure the expensive horses don’t catch their hooves. Stables the size of small houses where they house their prize-winning thoroughbreds and brood stock. On-site housing for trainers, jockeys, grooms, and other staff litters the horizon in the east.

Training circles and huge, open fields sprawl for miles to the west. I see a building that looks like it contains the business office and decide it’s probably where I should check in. I could go to the stable and ask for directions because I speak a smattering of languages, but that might get me in trouble with the security that is invisible but certainly there.

I whistle at the boys and start towards that building, nodding at the employees I pass. When I open the door, an alarm beeps, causing the svelte woman at the desk to peer over her glasses at me. Squinting, I frown as I work to place her. She’s young—about the doc’s age—and dressed in what must be a tailor-made uniform of chic designer jeans, a sharp blouse with the farm’s name embroidered on it and perfect hair and makeup. She looks vaguely familiar, but given her age, I know I didn’t go to school with her.

“Welcome to Cantwell Farms. I’m Agatha Harper Claiborne. May I have your name so I can coordinate with our interview schedule?”

Her tone is polite, but the sweep of her glittering black eyes and sneer on her wine-colored lips says otherwise. Long coffin tipped nails tap on the desk as she waits for my response, and I see right through her facade. I don’t know what Agatha wants from life with a glance, but I can guess, and I’m not going to get her closer to a rich, founding family husband, so I must be ‘staff’. I’ve had a rough week, and I decide that fucking with her is good amusement while I wait for my ‘date’.

“I don’t have an appointment,” I say, smiling in the true saccharine way they teach in cotillion classes.

Despite Edgar and his cronies ruining the event, I took every class required and strived for excellence to make my mother happy. I can lay it on as well as any bitch in this town, and offering her as little information as possible will set off the ‘rude’ alarm.

“Tsk,” she murmurs, her eyes narrowing with delight. “We don’t take walk-ins at Cantwell Farms, ma’am. ”

The stress on the word ma’am tells me she’s emphasizing our age difference in the nastiest way she can without being straight up impolite. Too bad for her—I passionately believe that age is a human construct, and I couldn’t care less if she’s younger than me. “I’m not a walk-in, but thank you for your kindness .”

Agatha’s eyes widen with the return volley, sensing that she won’t get rid of me easily, nor will she be able to intimidate me with her typical mean girl act. “ Ma’am , Cantwell Farms has a security checkpoint at the gate. Did you check-in and state your business when you entered? I will need that information to process your visitor’s badge if you’re here for a tour.”

There’s that word again.

She’s fishing for who let me in without her permission, and I’ll be damned if I get a gate guard in trouble. Word of my arrival has spread around town, and I assume cute vet told them to expect me. I gave my name, and the attendant waved me to the employee entrance without a pause. This bitch will get him fired for subverting what must be the only authority she has in life at this desk.

So I smile again, walking over to a set of overstuffed chairs across from her dominion. “That’s no trouble. I’ll wait here until my appointment is available. I’m sure they’ll come looking for me soon enough.”

A surge of energy crackles through the air as she stands, putting her hand on a cocked, shapely hip. Her lips curve and she bats her lashes slowly, watching me with an intensity that’s borderline creepy. “You’ll tell me who you’re meeting, and I’ll give you your badge.”

The door alarms buzzes, interrupting our standoff, and I see Hottie McBabyVet coming bustling through with a picnic basket, a blanket, and a bright grin. His eyes light on me and he makes a beeline for where I’m seated.

“Jolene!” He chuckles as he approaches, shaking his head. “It must have been a trial growing up with that name, huh? Every single time I hear it, I want to sing a little ditty from the Tennessee Titan herself.”

Laughing, I shrug. “No harder than Wolfgang, I’d imagine.”

An annoyed harrumph comes from the desk, and I notice the Vamp Tramp—I mean, Agatha—is coming around the desk towards Wolfie. She looks hungry as a crocodile, and I’ve been near one or two in Egypt. Every single ounce of her being is oozing sexuality as she approaches him, batting his shoulder with a limp hand. Her glare turns to a pout, and her lashes start up again.

“Oh, Wolfie, darling! You know you’re supposed to let me know if you do interviews for the clinic cleaning crew. I must know about all visitors on the property for Mr. Cantwell’s records. You don’t want to get me in trouble, do you?”

Wincing, the adorable genius backs up from the Vamp Tramp with a gentle smile. “Now, Agatha. I registered her with security and the gate guards myself. She’s not on your schedule for staffing because she’s both my personal guest and Eliot’s. The Cantwell’s don’t register their personal guests with you, do they?”

Her eyes widen and her head whips around to give me a look that would have killed lesser women. Fortunately for me, I’ve gotten it from mistresses of princes, CEOs, fashion moguls, and various entertainment figures—this small-town tyrant doesn’t scare me a whit. Once she sees the satisfaction in my expression as I stare back at her, she turns back to her target with another pout. “I thought we would have lunch together again today.”

“Sorry, Aggie. Dr. Wolfie and I made this date earlier in the week. I got all gussied up for him and everything, so we’ll be on our way. Catch ya on the flip side!”

My ‘date’ muffles a chuckle with his hand, nodding at the gaping woman in front of him. When he has it under wraps, he gives her a shrug. “She’s right. I’m told she has some companions I need to look at, we have to eat, and then we’re touring the stables for her commitment to Eliot. We really must get going. Have a lovely day, Agatha!” Grabbing my hand, he gives me a look that says, ‘don’t you dare pull away’ and leads me to the door.

We walk outside and Jekyll and Hyde bound up to us with huge cat grins. I take my hand back, wiping the sudden dampness on my palms on my breeches and clear my throat. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that. No, wait.” I frown. “I’m not sorry about her attitude. Why didn’t you warn me there was a viper in the waiting room? This is your fault, buster.”

Rubbing the back of his head, he blushes—I shit you not—and shrugs. “I try to interact with Agatha as little as possible. She’s had this… thing… for me since high school, and it makes everything awkward. Sometimes, I have to be pretty sneaky to get past without getting cornered.”

Something in my stomach clenches, and my eyes darken. “That’s sexual harassment, and you need to tell HR. Or, since you’re close enough to Eliot to call him that, talk to him.”

A dour look comes over his face. “He knows. He can’t do anything about it because of her family’s legacy. They’re new for the Hollow in terms of founding families, but their wealth and influence in the racing industry is unparalleled. His parents guaranteed the children job exchanges here to learn the business.”

That spot inside clenches again, and I feel rage sparkle through my veins. My work in Europe caused me to be privy to this kind of bullshit in all areas of the ivory tower society, and it made me as angry there as it does here. Business, politics, and even the arts are interwoven with the ‘people as commodities’ ideology so tightly that anyone who lives that life growing up tends to simply accept it as a fact of their existence. I’ve gotten myself—and Saoirse—in trouble because of it many times.

That’s how Thailand started, in fact.

“That sucks giant goat balls, and I’m sorry you have to deal with her. She didn’t bother me because I’ve dealt with bitchy women way above her pay grade for years. She’d have to add quite a few zeroes to her net worth to compete.”

His blue eyes sparkle with mirth, and he practically beams at me. “You know, darlin’, I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

“ Mow !”

The indignant sound breaks us out of the heated gaze we’re locked in, and I look down at Jekyll. The serval gives me a hopeful look, clearly believing he’s done his duty in saving me from doing something stupid. Which I might have if he hadn’t spoken up, to be honest. This sexy ass vet might be younger than anyone I’ve taken for a spin in the past, but his appeal is undeniable. I can feel the attraction in my bones, and I can not repeat the mistakes of earlier in the week.

“Are you the scamps that chose our sugarplum? Let me see you, gentleman. Stand and be counted.”

As if by magick, the nickname makes me blush and sets me off at the same time. The cats ignore my flustered state as they rise on their hind legs to greet him. Both Jekyll and Hyde offer opposing paws to him, and my jaw drops. Jekyll lets out one of his trademark yowls, and Hyde makes a low ‘ Mrrrrp ’ as Wolfie walks around them, inspecting their forms like an art connoisseur.

“I… they don’t normally…”

Looking up from where he’s checking parts of them I’ve been studiously avoiding, he winks at me. “I’m a vet, sugarplum. Animals love me.” When he stands again, he picks up the basket and blanket he’d been holding inside. “The good news is that they seem healthy, though I’d like to do a full exam later in the month once you’re fully settled. The bad news is that Hyde is a girl, and they aren’t fixed.”

I blink for a moment, feeling the blush on my cheeks get even redder. How could I fuck up something as simple as gendering my fucking pets? Goddess, I must look like an absolute fool. Why didn’t those idiots tell me?

Holy hell, this town is making me lose my marbles. I seriously just asked myself why my cats didn’t tell me their gender.

“Um… well, I’m not going to do that to them. They’re a bonded pair, it seems, and I don’t feel like I should make that decision for them. It feels like I’d be intruding on their privacy.”

His grin spreads further, and he nods, which I don’t expect. “I agree! So many people want to prevent their companions from living normal lives to make it easier for them. I applaud your willingness to allow them autonomy, sugarplum. I’ll help you get what supplies you may need when I do their visit.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that I seem to have passed that unintentional test, I nod. “That sounds good. Should we have lunch? I don’t want to keep you all day.”

“Oh! Yeah, we should. I have a slow day today, but I bet you’re itchin’ to get to your studio and work a little. Word at the diner is that you’ve stripped the house pretty bare.”

My nose wrinkles and I sigh. Bloody country gossips—as much as I love Niecy and Gene, they’ve been keeping everyone informed about everything I’ve been doing. It’s a good thing that I didn’t ask about any of the sketchy stuff I’ve found in the house. I have no idea who or what could be involved in this mystery of mine. I can’t play my hand before I see the table and count the cards.

“I am. I want to make sure the equipment is installed properly so once I get my feet under me at school, I can start lessons and showings there.”

Wolfie grabs my hand again, leading me to a golf cart nearby. “I’m going to take us out to a spot the tourists don’t get to see, if you don’t mind. We’ll eat there, and if it’s late when we finish, we can do the stables tour later. Eliot instructed Fidelia to make you a badge, a parking decal, and shirts and have ‘em delivered to your house so next time you can just text me and head on over.”

As I plop down in the cart with my bag, I wave at Jekyll and Hyde. They’re clearly electing to slink around here, and I can’t say that’s a bad idea. If Eliot really put me on the payroll officially, people will need to get used to them being around while I’m here. Plus, who knows what secrets they can ferret out and lead me to later? I’ll bet those two are better sleuths than they let on.

“So, Eliot’s folks still hold the reins—literally. He’s the go-between for the staff and the family, but he can’t pry the title out of his daddy for anything. It makes him crazy because he has tons of innovative ideas for modernization that would not have included back handed deals like the one with Agatha’s family. He’s got contacts in the Middle East, which I’m sure you know is a hotbed for sheikhs with money to burn on luxury items like racehorses.”

I snort. I definitely know that. “Yep. I’ve been around that scene enough to know how shark infested those waters are, though. There’s a lot of protocol involved, and he’ll need a cultural liaison to help the deals go smoothly and not get outwitted by their London barristers.”

He navigates the cart over bumps and hills before he turns and gives me that sexy megawatt smirk. “Word on the farm is that he heard a certain sugarplum might help with that. I think that’s why he was eager enough to get you squared away on his payroll—even starting out as a horse helper—before some other founding family approached you for their own business dealings.”

Motherfucker. Talk about sharks in the goddamned water.

Wolfie is telling me that every family in the Hollow will try to lure me out of art and teaching for globe trotting consulting. That’s not my plan and I’d better make that clear now.

“Well, I came here to settle down for a while, Wolfie. I’ve lived the life of the glamorous fixer for years, and when I moved back to the States, I set that aside for other dreams. That eventually led me back home to the Hollow. They’ll be disappointed if they think money will get me to hop on their jets to negotiate their troubles.”

“I told Aldous that yesterday, but he was quite smug in his assertion that he and the mayor are very persuasive. Though, he had Poe and Parker with him and when he schemes with those sphinxes in his arms, my brain goes straight to a Southern Dr. Evil, and I almost laugh in his face.”

The image that flits through my head is hysterical and I giggle, doubling over as he finally pulls the cart to a stop beneath a tree with an old rope swing under it. The meadow is lovely and far enough out from the commotion of the main area of the farm that I doubt anyone would even know we’re here. I wipe my eyes as I take in the bucolic scenery that horse country offers with a sigh. I didn’t know how much I missed this amount of green until just now.

Wolfie climbs out, spreading the blanket in a spot under the tree that looks made for it, and sits down the basket. I watch him fiddle with the food and drinks with a smile, his touch of compulsiveness for neat presentation very fitting for the town he lives in. He stands, raising one arm as he scratches his stomach, and the butterflies start in mine as I watch.

Good goddamn, he’s hot.

Holding his hand out, he helps me out of the cart, and I flush again. His lips brush my knuckles so quickly I think I imagine it, but the wink he gives me after confirms his flirting. I suck in a breath, completely caught off guard when a quick bang for posterity isn’t the goal, but I follow him to the vast blanket. Lowering myself to the ground, I settle, and my eyes flit around nervously.

I didn’t mention that I’m a picky eater and this might have been a terrible plan.

* * *

“So, the whole thing ended up being a complete disaster and my mother was furious with me as if I’d arranged the popular kids pulling one of the meanest pranks in the history of the Hollow,” I finish sheepishly, sipping a glass of the champagne he was kind enough to bring.

Wolfie grins, shaking his head and his sun kissed skater cut falls in his eyes. “I had no idea you were part of the ‘Cotillion Catastrophe’. People talk about it at the start of every season, but they only whisper. They never mention names before some old biddy shushes them as if speaking it aloud could will it into existence again.”

My face turns bright red. “Well, I’m sure they’re terrified that some dumbass kids will try to re-create it. Edgar, Ophelia, Benjy, Reese, Jillian, Amy, Blake, Dylan, and their cronies on the football and cheer squads made sure that it was legendary. I know I’ll never forget it.”

His amusement flits away like a leaf on the breeze, and the hottest young vet I’ve ever seen scoots closer to me. A hand comes up to cup my jaw and he murmurs, “Sugarplum, I can promise you I’d kick Edgar square in the nuts if it’d make you smile after that story.”

Ducking my head in embarrassment, I try to get myself under control. Something about Wolfie makes me both shy and ready to devour him at the same time and I haven’t the foggiest how to respond. The conversation until now was easy and light, paired with food that I loved, and good bubbly. I’m not sure what to do now that it’s taken a turn towards the intimate.

Don’t shite where ye lie, Saoirse would say.

However, if she could SEE the sculpted underwear model in front of me, she’d change that tune right quick. I know my bestie, and good sense has never impeded a fun time when she’s around. Hence ending up in the middle of a Southeast Asian scandal and a smuggled exit from a country I’d love to visit again someday.

“It’s okay. I mean, I won’t forget, but it doesn’t actively hurt me anymore. You know how the politics in this town go—I don’t think it was about me. I got in the way, and I was collateral damage. I’ve stood in front of the firing squad to protect people who can’t protect themselves and that was one of those times.”

He scoots closer, his face inches from mine as he tips my chin back up to look into those baby blues. “I like that about you, sugarplum. In fact, I like a lot of things about you.”

I respond, but his lips meet mine before I can. A surge of intense need fills me, and I push forward, crawling over his form like I’ve done it million times. His chest rumbles with a growling sound, and I pull back slightly, grinning against his mouth. The air feels charged with energy like it did with Edgar, and I nip his lower lip, tugging on it with my teeth. Our bodies shift, landing in perfect harmony, and groans echo through the silence of the field.

“You’re offering yourself to me, little Wolfie?”

His hands slide over my ass, squeezing playfully as he smirks back at me. “Are you accepting, Jolene Athena Whitley?”

Using my full name strikes me as important, but I nod. “I am, Wolfgang Lucien Fletcher.”

“We’ve been drinking,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine as if to check my level of intoxication. His expression is serious, but he’s so goddamned cute that I feel like I could gobble him up on the spot.

One of my shoulders lifts and falls as I bob my brows. “Not enough to make a difference in my thought process. Or are you all bark and no bite?”

His eyes widen for a second as he looks at me, and I wonder what he’s seeing. I know that I’m not a bloody fashion hound like the women here, and I’m thinner than I was in high school, but still on the curvy side. Is he regretting his flirting already?

“Look, if you don’t want?—”

My self-conscious babble is cut off by hands whipping the tight riding shirt over my head and flinging it aside. I push up on my hands, wiggling until I can help him push the knee-high boots off as well. His boots are next, and I giggle when he gets his scrub shirt off with some serious maneuvering. I find out that scrub pants are my new favorite pants when they come untied and slide right off, leaving him looking like the fucking Calvin Klein model I thought he was in his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to get those damned breeches loose, sugarplum. I’m aware of how tightly they cling to legs like yours.” His eyes dance as he leans up to kiss me briefly, giving me room to figure out my riding pants.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, wishing for the millionth time that I had magick powers to help me with shit like this. My hips bump and wriggle against his, eliciting groans of approval as I get the tight pants over my badonkadonk and down my legs far enough for us both to fight them down my legs. When they’re finally kicked aside, I pump my fist in victory and he laughs along with me.

His eyes travel down my body and mortification thrums in my veins when I remember I wore functional undergarments for riding today, not sexy ones, and now he knows. My head falls, the ponytail full of my thick hair hiding my bright red face.

Oh, sweet lord Hades, claim me now.

I’m ready to exit this planet because this super fucking sexy, smart guy has seen my lady boxers and body wrapped sports bra.

“Jolene? Sugarplum? What’s wrong?”

I lift my head, blowing strands of hair out of my face. “So. Embarrassing.”

He frowns, his hands sliding up my back to my shoulder blades as he looks at me. “What’s embarrassing?”

“I’m dressed like a confused granny mummy!”

Wolfie chuckles, then bursts out laughing as he looks up at me. “You’re dressed like a woman who knows how to ride like a pro. If I’d found a thong and a lacy wisp under here, I never could have taken you seriously with my horses again.”

Blinking, I tilt my head. “Really? This isn’t like… a major turn off? My boobs are bound, and I have on lady boxers.”

“Women who dress for function and form are sexy as fuck, sugarplum. I’m a vet—I can’t deal with a lady who’d get grossed out if I came home covered in unmentionable gunk.”

An actual shit-eating grin blossoms on my face, and I reach down to tug on the clip of my binding. Wolfie unfurls the wrap the rest of the way, unzips the sports bra and tosses it, his hips bumping into mine enticingly as he does so.

Once I’m bare, his eyes roam over the tattoo wrapping around my ribs, the belly ring, and of course, the jeweled silver and emerald shields I sport on my nipples. Saoirse is to thank for most of it, as she can talk me into anything when we’re drunk. But Edgar liked it, and it looks like my darling vet does as well.

I might send her a candy basket.

“Sugarplum, I don’t think the first time is gonna last awfully long. You’re dolled up like a pin-up girl in a tattoo mag under here. It’s making my dick do backflips.”

“What, country girls around here don’t have body piercings and tats?” I tease. I slide my pussy over the material of his boxers, my eyes rolling back into my head at the friction. He’s right, of course. The ordeal with our clothes should have dumped ice water on our heads, but his acceptance of me only fanned my flames hotter.

His fingers pinch my ass in reprimand, and I scoot down his thighs, nipping at his delicious abs as I go. He tries to wriggle away, but now I’ve decided that I’m on a mission. If the first time will be quick, I’m going to show him how fast I can make it. Biting down on the waistband of his boxers, I tug the material down with my teeth until his cock springs free.

Well, butter my biscuits and call me Betty Crocker—I hit the jackpot.

He’s got a sexy ass ladder on that thick shaft of his, and his pelvis is covered in intricate tats of his own. They look vaguely Gaelic, but I’m too excited about my dicks-covery to scrutinize them. Leaning in, I inhale his scent, pleased to find that he smells like body wash and outdoorsy man, not sweaty horse guy. That alone deserves a treat. So I lick the tip lightly and he shudders from head to toe.

Oh, this will be fun. I think Wolfie likes me in charge.

Swallowing him in one deep motion, I run my tongue over the bars, flicking them in a way I know will feel good. It’s not my first rodeo with a pierced dude, but they always have different versions of how they want you to play with their steel. I bob up and down slowly, humming a bit as I learn what spots make him gasp and squirm. If you’re wondering, I’ve had lessons, and I’m a fair bloody hand at this, but I don’t do it for everyone.

However, Hottie McBabyVet can ask nicely annnnytime.

I suppress a giggle when I feel his hips jump and I go back to work, licking, sucking, and teasing until I can feel his frame tense. He mutters something about moving, but I bat his hands away, giving him one more nip at the tip as it passes through my lips. The orgasm must hit him like a brick to the face because he shouts so loud that I worry someone’s going to hear, and salty fluid fills my mouth. When I can feel his breathing even out, I give him one last kiss, sliding up his body like the cat that blew the canary.

Which I did, thank you very much, and he should praise me for it.

“Holy Horned God, Jolene. Where in the hell did you—never mind, I don’t wanna know. Just… give me a few and we’re back, sugarplum.”

I arch a brow at him. “A few?”

His grin spreads wider. “Darlin’, I’m only twenty-two. I definitely meant a few.”

This time my eyes fly wide, and I squeal as he flips me onto my back.

What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

“Hello, there, guys,” I say, looking at Jekyll and Hyde with a disapproving look.

They lift their heads from the bowls of lunchmeat they’re munching with guilty expressions. Several of the hands’ kids, and a bunch of tour folk, are watching them in fascination and now I know why they weren’t available to save me from myself.

They found people to feed and lavish attention on them.

Some wing… cats… they are.

“Uh, sugarplum?” Wolfie asks, walking up behind me. He picks a piece of grass out of my hair, and I know I turn beet colored as the tourists laugh and whisper.

“Goddamnit,” I mutter. “Must I always look like an idiot in public in this town?”

He drops a kiss on my temple and takes the basket out of the cart. “Well, if it’s with me, I can’t say I’d complain.”

“ Wolfgang Lucien Fletcher !”

The shriek catches us and the crowd off guard, but my faithful companions leap into action. Jekyll and Hyde spring from the bowl of meat towards the blonde woman that is striding over as if she’s the Fifth Infantry mounting a surprise attack. Agatha is so intent on screeching at my most recent lover that she doesn’t notice them, and they hit her in unison, causing her to totter on her ridiculously high-heeled boots.

“ Ahhhh ! I’m being attacked by vicious monsters!”

I roll my eyes at the crowd, hoping to calm them, and follow Wolfie to where my now forgiven wing-cats are pinning the shrieking banshee to the ground with snarls. Taking a chance, I decide on German because I’m hoping to figure out if they’ve been trained with actual commands. “Jekyll! Hyde! Mach Schnell !”

Their heads raise and they bound to my side immediately, still sneering and growling at the prone woman. Agatha doesn’t make a move to get up, only continues wailing as if someone has fatally wounded her. Wolfie looks at me and shrugs, and I shrug back. I don’t know what the hell she’s playing at.

“They’ve broken my ankle ! Help !”

“Uh, doubtful, you cotton headed ninny. If it’s broken, it’s those idiotic heels are to blame, not my cats,” I call, giving the photo snapping crowd a wink.

A chuckle escapes the band of lookie-loos, and soon the entire group of people roars with laughter. They only part when a large, beefy looking man in a suit comes bounding through like a juggernaut. My lips quirk when I realize who it is, and I continue to watch the hapless bint flail about like a trout out of water.

“What in the sweet baby Jesus is goin’ on ‘round here?” Agatha stops her caterwauling when the booming voice echoes off the buildings like Moses came down from the Mount. “Who’s havin’ a hissy fit in the middle of my parking lot?”

I raise my hand and wave, unconcerned about my messy appearance, as Eliot James Cantwell comes striding towards me with a grin. He’s dressed in a bespoke summer suit, matching boots, and a straw fedora that makes him look every bit the Southern gentleman that he was raised to be.

His parents were friends with mine, and they graciously allowed me to ride their less valuable horses when I was younger. Eliot was always more involved in the farm than Fidelia, and despite being older than me, he’s the one who taught me to ride. I wouldn’t say we’re besties or anything, but he’s taken a shine to me since I was a chubby kid in braids.

“Miss Jolene Athena Whitley, I declare you are a sight for sore eyes!”

My brow arches when he lays the Southern on thick for the crowd, but I walk over and accept the giant bear hug he offers. It’s more friendly than I assumed we were, but this may all be for show. He has guests watching this minor scene, and the Cantwells are all born with an innate sense of public decorum. “Hi, Jamie. It’s been a while.”

Agatha looks up from the ground, her eyes full of fear, when she hears the nickname for her boss. She must have figured out that I’m not a rando tramp thwarting her day, and now she’s regretting her life choices.

Good.

“It sure has, darlin’. Is Wolfgang here showing you a fun time? Getting you loosened up for the task?”

Wolfie chokes, covering his mouth to hide a chortle, and I roll my eyes again. Men, no matter what age, can not resist a pussy or dick joke, even in front of their boss. I scratch my chin, pretending to consider, but I eventually smile at Eliot.

“He’s done an excellent job at preparing me for regular riding.”

The blonde on the ground struggles to her feet, picking hay off of her uniform as she does so. “Mr. Cantwell. I’m sorry to inform you, but those beasts of hers attacked me. I won’t feel safe with them or her frequenting these grounds. We’ll have to let Mayor Cornelia know so she can decide about their status.”

Whipping around to glare at the bitch, I grind out, “Jamie, they only jumped on her because she was screaming and coming towards Wolfie and I threateningly. I called them off, and this entire crowd of tourists has gotten an eyeful of an employee having a complete meltdown in public. I have thirty plus witnesses to her little display.” He looks at me for a moment, and then eyes the poor, trapped tour as they nod and murmur agreement. “Also, Agatha, I’d prefer if you didn’t discuss someone deciding my companions’ status as if that doesn’t imply that they will be killed for accidentally knocking you over in those ridiculous stilts.”

A sound of horror erupts from the group. Goddess bless him, I hear a kid ask his mom if the mean lady is going to have the nice kitties murdered. I’d buy that kid a fucking Xbox if I knew who the hell it was.

“Eliot,” Wolfie interrupts. “I’m a veterinarian. I wouldn’t allow feral animals to roam unattended on this farm. Jekyll and Hyde were wandering the grounds for hours, unattended, and the worst they did was accept a bunch of food and pets. Agatha scared them, and you know how companions get when their person is in danger.”

The big man claps his hands and smiles widely. “Well, that’s certainly true. Agatha, let’s get you to medical while young Wolfie checks Jolene’s cubs to make certain they weren’t harmed. Carol will take the tour group to the bar for drinks.”

“I won’t have her and those beasts stalking me!”

That was a mistake—a huge one.

“Now, sugar, I don’t think you intend to cause a scene on my farm, now do you? Your father would be most displeased if you embarrassed your family in public. I’ll take you to medical and tell you what… Jolene and her companions don’t have to come by the office ever again. I’ll have Fidelia upgrade her pass to permanent salaried, and we’ll call that even.”

Agatha looks ready to murder me as she takes Eliot’s hand, and I let out a breath. I don’t know what bargain I just made with the devil to save cats I didn’t even HAVE four days ago, but it looks like the crossroads have been crossed.

I can only hope to hell that I don’t regret it. Cai