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“I don’t want everything given to me on a silver platter. I to prove I have the hustle to make the business work. Of course, my dad insisted on matching whatever I raise in support, but he thinks it’s important to let me raise some of the money myself. He says it’ll keep me levelheaded and remembering where I come from.”
Nelson chuckles. “That sounds like something my dad tried to do.”
“Your father? I thought you said you weren’t well-off.”
“Doesn’t stop him from trying. My brother Williams engineered this thing for car engines with his girl. They were looking for an investor, and after the first person they met with fell through, my dad tried to help him by saying he’d match Williams’ hard work with his own investment.”
“Did he?”
“Nah, it wasn't necessary. One of our cousins’ husbands is more loaded than even your dad could ever hope to be, and he liked what Williams and his girl had to offer. Just one of the many benefits of having a big family, I suppose.”
I sigh, content as I walk with Nelson. We’re more alike than our parents would ever admit. We have shared values of hard work, helping family out, and trying to encourage those around us to do better. It makes the whole family feud so much sillier, to be quite honest.
Speaking of families? There are a lot around us. The hayride was always a big attraction to me as a kid, and the next generation is all about it as well. It’s such a sweet picture. Kids running around, clamoring onto bales of hay, their parents watching from afar, trying to subdue their own huge grins. I have to admit that watching this with such a handsome man next to me makes my ovaries feel weird, and it’s really unexpected.
“I was thinking of taking you on the hayride, Nicole,” Nelson says, stroking his sexy stubble.
“Oh, you think I’d enjoy that, huh?”
“What I want to do on it, maybe. See that truck over there?”
One of the vehicles pulling loads of hay isn’t a tractor like the others. It’s a flatbed truck with a huge wall and seats made of hay stacks surrounding it. Like all the other hayrides though, it’s loaded with kids, climbing around and using the hay as if it were a jungle gym.
“See, the way that one is set up gives us a little bit of privacy from the driver. So I was thinking that I’d take you on that ride, and when we’re far enough from everyone else, I’ll strip you down, bend you over some bales, and fuck you silly until you ask me to stop because you’re sore, and to keep going because you still want so much more than that.”
I grin devilishly at him. I like his proposal, a lot, actually. But I see one flaw in his logic. “I don’t think we want the kind of audience that’s already on that truck though, Nelson.”
“Yeah, and that’s what makes it so unfair.”
I take my phone out of my pocket and check the time. “Well, well, looks like we’ve hit our required attendance time at this event in order to fulfill the duties of the King and Queen of the Fall Ball.”
“Have we, now? We’re free to go?”
I nod. “Why don’t we blow this pumpkin patch and go somewhere a bit more private? Far away from kids who would have questions, and the parents who would be so furious at us.”
He laughs, his smile growing as he never breaks eye contact with me. “Well then, given your place is currently housing a man who hates the very air I breathe, how about we head to my place?”
“I think I like that idea, Nelson. I think I like that idea a whole damn lot.”
We start toward his truck, waving at the festival goers as we pass, trying to do the whole king and queen thing right.
But the temptation is too much to deny. It’s going to turn to torture if I deny myself for too much longer.
And I know once I get into that truck with him, I’m committed to something that would make my father’s anger shift from intense displeasure to apoplectic.
So be it. I’m my own woman. I have my own desires.
And I desire Nelson.
* * *
He drivesover to the Rowdy land, down a road beside the massive grazing fields they maintain for the good of their cattle. We pull up to a small cabin, which isn’t much to look at.
“Sorry if this isn’t up to your standards, your highness.”
“This is where you live?” I ask.
“Yeah. Between this and my dad’s place. There’s a half-dozen cabins spread around the Rowdys’ acres of land. Dad wanted a place for anyone out in the fields to retreat to if a storm rolled in, as often happens up here in Washington. When us Rowdy boys got older and wanted our own places, but didn’t have families to justify buying houses, we claimed these cabins as our own private places. They have electricity and plumbing, and they’re just little, quaint places. One bedroom, one bathroom, and a fireplace, just in case things get bad.”
