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J.P.
I never considered myself a breakfast person. Too early, too busy, or too hung-over...take your pick. But the farm-to-table outfit just outside of Savannah we were carted off to the next morning was one of those “don’t miss” places on the planet. I watched from my leaning position against the ancient barn door as Kara took her first squeeze on the teat of a brown and white cow. Kara looked uncomfortable. The cow looked completely disinterested.
Cole, on the other hand, was a pro in no time, following the instructions of the farmhand and squeezing out a bounty of fresh cream into his bucket.
I couldn’t help myself. “At least someone knows their way around a boob here.”
Kara twisted on her stool. “Hey, big mouth. Who said you get to stand over there and watch?” She waved me over. “By all means. Have at her.”
That bratty smile of hers would be the end of me. There was no way I could resist it.
I pulled up another stool and placed it next to her. “I’d rather give you a hand.” No lie, I just wanted an excuse to touch her. What a nice surprise it was when she didn’t resist. My hand covered hers entirely.
“Not too hard, now,” I said and squeezed gently but steadily in one downward motion.
“How do you know she doesn’t like it hard?” Kara asked.
Right then, I wanted to reach out and nip her on the neck, just sink my teeth in and leave a mark to see if maybe Kara was dropping hints on purpose.
“You’re a tease. Anyone ever tell you that?”
But Kara didn’t answer. Instead, she continued milking her cow, successfully now that she’d followed my lead.
“Did you grow up on a farm?” she asked.
I laughed. “No...I’m a city kid through and through. But I was also a Fresh Air Fund recipient, so I spent part of my summers in the boondocks, upstate.”
Our host rang the big bell attached to a tree just past the chicken coup and drew our attention to the racket. “Chow time!”
“Cole, come over here and switch in. I’ll get a shot of you two before we wrap up here,” I said.
“Tag teaming old Bessie, huh?” Cole joked.
“How do you know she doesn’t like that kind of thing?” I joked back, winking at Kara.
Flirty little zaps like those pinged around us all morning, through breakfast and back onto the train headed for Miami. I enjoyed the banter more than I wanted to admit. It was fun, the flirting, the sparks. I'd forgotten what it felt like to let yourself be smitten with something. Fuck, was that what I was? Smitten? The idea made me chuckle. My amusement was stifled quickly when I noticed the text from Kyle linking the article he’d warned me about. His message read: I wanted you to know what we’re up against. You can guess where this is coming from.
The headline didn’t bode well: Hunter Railways Covering Their Tracks.
J.P. skimmed the article and a few lines jumped out at him. Kyle Hunter, Chairman of the Board and son of Senator Olivia Hunter, has been widely lauded for his generosity and altruistic endeavors when it comes to his not-for-profit work with New York City youth at risk...An open investigation into the source of questionable anonymous donations ...A trusted insider has confirmed...duplicate deposits during the past year.
J.P. clenched his teeth. Fucking Thornhill. He dialed Kyle. “I just saw it. What can I do to help?”
Kyle’s voice sounded tired. “Our attorneys are already filing an injunction against the publication.” He sighed. “They didn’t come right out and say the word embezzlement, but the article suggests it.”
“I know it’s not true,” I said, hoping he could hear my support. “I know this company. I know you. I also know Thornhill. He’s the ‘trusted insider,’ I’m sure.”
“We’re close to nailing his ass, but until then, we really need to change the subject. And I want our board members to be focused on the launch of our new division. My family might still be majority shareholders, but I don’t have to tell you how things work when it comes to good faith. I’m not concerned, but I also want to make sure this bullshit doesn’t throw my vision for the company off course. How are things going with Kara and Cole? Is there magic happening on that train?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. I’d call it that.”
“Good. I’m going to need you to pull this off big time. Be ready to launch the new campaign the moment you return.”
“You can count on it.”
We were in for a burlesque show that evening in South Beach. Kara + Cole had a table reserved for them in the corner of the intimate cabaret, and I sat by myself at a table a few feet away. Close, but not too close, not included. This was, after all, an intimate affair. Kara + Cole were, of course, a couple. The seating arrangement was perfect for the situation, except for how utterly excluded I felt. I shrugged off the thought with a deep swallow of Bourbon.
It would have worked, if not for the way they both kept glancing my way. I told myself they were seeking my approval and wanted a little reassurance that their social media mojo was back to flow-mode. I nodded at them and raised my glass.
After a few acts and a generous number of selfies with the performers, Kara excused herself, heading to the ladies’ room. Giggly with champagne, she dragged her finger over my shoulder as she passed by. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign, a signal, or just a friendly hello. But far be it from me to ever underestimate a situation. After a beat, I got up to follow her.
Two small doors faced each other: ladies’ and men’s rooms, respectively. A smile played on my lips while I pushed open the door where I hoped to find Kara, and I was ready with a drunken apology if door number one held some other woman instead. I wasn’t drunk. There wasn’t another woman behind that door. I found Kara leaning against the sink, legs crossed at the ankles and scrolling through her phone. She looked up and smirked back at me.
“Did you get lost?” she asked, her eyes flickering with mischief but her tone deceptively even.
My cock hardened at her unspoken dare. “No, I can read. I can read you too.” I chuckled while closing the distance between us, the door swinging shut behind me. The single bathroom was small enough for me to reach back and lock it.
“Oh yeah? What are you reading on me?” Kara giggled softly, and that sweet tone sent a tingle over my skin. In that red silk dress, every delicate curve of her body was a feast of forbidden delights. It glimmered in the dim glow of the bathroom’s lights. She wasn’t wearing a bra, given how easily I could make out the points of her nipples. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t wearing panties either. My fingers twitched, itching to find out.
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come in here to check your Instagram.” I reached forward and plucked the phone from her hand.
“It’s a bathroom; maybe I came to pee.”
“But you didn’t.” I opened the camera on her phone. “Still, we’re supposed to be documenting everything.” I snapped a candid of her.
She reached for it in my hand. “I don’t think our followers need a shot of me in the bathroom?
“It’s for Cole. This game has three players.”
“What game?” Kara asked as I towered above her. Her eyes dipped as she watched my hand slide up her hip, feeling the smooth silk against my palm.
I snapped a picture of her smiling coyly at me. So fucking gorgeous. “The game you enjoyed playing so much last night, you can’t wait for round two.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I pressed my finger to her lips.
“I don’t need you to confirm or deny that. Not with words, at least. Your words have been failing you lately, I think. These are questions for your body, Kara. Let your body answer.” I dragged my finger down her neck and followed it with a trailing kiss down to her collar bone.
