“You’re not angry?”
“What do I have to be angry about? You’ve given me a grandson. I’m kinda mad that I wasn’t invited to the wedding, but that’s beside the point.” Lorna is too precious for this world. She’s not as cynical as her son, quite the opposite. It makes me sad that my marriage to his son is a sham and it will never last.
“I just want to tell you that no matter what happens between Damien and me, Lake will always be in your life.”
She frowns. “You clearly don’t know who you’ve married. Now that he has you in his life, he’s going to do everything he can to make sure you stay.”
I am about to ask her what she means by that when I hear the crunching of boots and the sound of someone making their way to us. My heart skips a bit when glance back and see Damien. He is pushing a wheelbarrow with a rake in it. He ditched his jeans and t-shirt and opted for overalls tied at the waist, boots, and nothing else. My pussy doesn't fail to notice that he is shirtless. I feel it tighten as my mouth goes dry.
“He’s also not cleaning the barn,” he says, “Or do you have another excuse for him for that as well?”
Lorna shrugs. “It’s a big barn.”
Damien sighs and shakes his head. Lake finishes putting the apples back into the basket just as his father rakes the leaves and rotten apples.
Lorna suggests they make apple sauce with the fruits to the delight of Lake, who enjoys watching people make stuff. Especially stuff he can eat. I’m not feeling like joining them and the outdoors is breezy enough for me to stay out longer. Theyleave and I’m left alone with Damien, who is now busy with his job. He looks like he’s enjoying it and has now moved to the end of the row of apple trees. I follow him there and reach him just as he’s about to put some of the debris into the wheelbarrow.
“Do you need help?”
He scoffs. “And what would you help me with, city girl?”
I roll my eyes. “Come on. I had no idea you grew up in the country. I would have bet money that you are a Brooklyn boy through and through.”
He picks up the wheelbarrow and goes to the edge of the orchard, where he dumps the debris into a compost. He returns, muscles rippling and glistening in the sun. My mouth waters as though he is some meal I can’t wait to devour. His eyes catch mine and I look away, embarrassed to be caught staring.
Damien removes one glove and throws it at me. “You can pick the rotten apples and throw them in here.” He gestures at the wheelbarrow. I nod and do as he says. The orchard is quiet for a while as I pick the apples one by one while he rakes the leaves. The sounds of nature might be calming if I wasn’t constantly aware of Damien and everything he was doing. Every time he passes by me, I catch his scent and my body goes rigid for a millisecond. I ignore it and continue doing my job. I focus on picking the apples, but because I am not looking at where I am going, I hit his chest with my head.
“Ow! Watch--” Damien screams as I lose my balance and nearly fall. He catches my arms and holds me up. I steady myself by holding onto his chest. His hard and ripped chest feels sturdy under my hands. Unconsciously, I rub my ungloved hand down his chest just to feel how good his warm body is against mine. He groans. I look up at him. His eyes are hooded with desire.
“What are doing?” His tone is far from accusatory. It’s gentle but I’m too embarrassed with myself to not hear it as such. I stepback and withdraw my hand like it’s been burned. “Nothing,” I reply, looking down. “Thanks,” I say and return to my job.
“You were right,” Damien says.
“About?”
“Nicole.” He stops raking and stands to face me. The apple I had been holding in my hand falls. “She poisoned our son and tried to pretend she didn’t know anything about it.”
I’m too shocked to reply. He has never shown any wavering when it came to the innocence of his favorite assistant. He has always downplayed my suspicions. But to hear him accuse her of maliciousness is a bridge that even I hadn’t crossed. To hear him say this is… “How did she know he was allergic?”
“She says she didn’t, but she knows I am allergic. She was adamant that it was a mistake.”
My mind reels. She tried to harm my child. My child. What the fuck was wrong with her? I think of all the times she’s been with Lake. Been with me.“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve fired her, so you no longer have to worry about her harming Lake ever again.”
“Thanks,” I say. “For believing me.”
We finish cleaning up, and I follow Damien to the barn as he rolls the wheelbarrow. I check my phone. An hour has passed ever since we started. We have somehow worked faster than I thought and I don’t feel as tired as I thought I would be.
The barn is large and half of it has been repurposed into something of a juice machine while the other half acts as a warehouse and tools shed. “You’ve done well for your mother,” I say as I take in the machine she mentioned while Damien stores away the tools. It looks state-of-the-art and a smaller version of something you’d find at a fruit juice factory. “She’s been telling me all the things you’ve done for her. She sounds very proud.”
Damien opens his palm and I hand him the glove. “My mother has a tendency to exaggerate.” He takes it and stores thegloves away. He comes back empty-handed. My gaze can’t stop wandering to his chest. His muscles flex as he walks, creating a mesmerizing effect. He stops inches away from me, his gaze hot on mine. There has been an erotic dance we’ve been playing all afternoon, and it feels like the stakes have only ratcheted up now. His hand goes to my cheek, and he rubs it. “There’s dust here,” he says and then curses.
“What?” I try not to sound as breathless as I feel. There’s a desire within me to bend his head and kiss him, which I have to resist.
“I’ve just made it worse.” He shows me his hand. It’s coated in dirt. “We should take a shower.” It sounds less like a suggestion and more like an order. I am too horny to defy it and let him take my hand as he leads me into the barn, past the storage area, past the juicing machine, and all the way to the back. He turns around a corner and reaches a small alcove that is well hidden from the barn and the house. There’s a reed cube at the center, which he opens the door off and he leads me inside. It’s an outdoor shower. A well-designed one, I have to admit. There’s a shower nozzle on one end and a basin on the other.
“Figured we might clean ourselves,” he says as he strips down to his overalls. As though I am acting on his command, I strip down my dirt-stained jeans and t-shirt. He groans when my bra and underwear-clad body is bared to him. “You act as though you’ve never seen my body before?”
