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Ivan glanced down at his flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. “Yes, unless you think I need to dress nicer.”
“This is perfect. The orange and navy in your shirt make your amber eyes pop. You’d make a burlap sack look hot, though.” Rory leaned forward and kissed him. “You’re going to do great. Let’s run through some tips on posture and posing. I assume he will want to take pictures.”
Ivan nodded. “I’m not taking him to my beehives, though. Not willing to give away my trade secrets.”
Rory spent the next twenty minutes demonstrating what Ivan’s posture should look like when he was sitting down or standing. They tried a few different angles to see what looked best before he decided that Ivan looked good in all of them.
“I don’t think that’s an objective opinion,” Ivan said.
Rory waved him off and suggested they practice answering questions again. After two or three, he dusted off his hands and said, “I believe my work here is done.”
Ivan tugged him back onto his lap and they made out for a little while, making sure not to take anything too far.
Rory rested his forehead against Ivan’s. “You make me forget my name.”
“Rory,” Ivan said.
The gorgeous man shook his head. “That’s just a nickname.”
“What’s your first name?”
“What do you want it to be?” Rory teased, giving Ivan a glimpse of the minx who’d first arrived on the ranch. “Seriously, what’s your name?” Ivan could look it up in a heartbeat, but he wanted Rory to tell him.
“Maybe I’ll save that for one of our confessions.”
Ivan thought of the whispered words they’d shared in his bed and realized he liked the idea. “What if one of us offers something deep and meaningful and the other only imparts a trivial tidbit?”
Rory tipped his head to the side and considered the question. After a few moments, he straightened up and pinned Ivan with the most serious expression he’d seen yet. “Nothing you tell me would be too great or too small. I’ll give everything equal weight, and your confessions will always stay between us.”
Ivan realized he was right. Nothing he learned about Rory would feel trivial or small. “Deal.”
Harry sent Ivan a text to let him know that Roberto had checked in at the gate, and she’d let him in. The editor would be there in moments. His anxiety started to spike again when he read the message out loud to Rory.
“You’ve got this. I’ll be here the entire time to cheer you on.”
Ivan opened his office door, then turned to look at Rory. “Wait, you said Roberto knows you. Maybe you should head back to the ranch or old homestead. I don’t want to take a chance on your location getting leaked, even by accident. I’ll be fine by myself. You prepared me thoroughly.” He could tell Rory wasn’t convinced so he pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I won’t show Roberto my beehives, but I’ll take you there after he leaves.”
Rory looked smug as hell as he headed toward the door. “I’m going to check out the library. I might lie on the couch and read a book while I wait for you to finish.”
Ivan suddenly imagined Rory stretched out on the sofa with his nose tucked in a book and his feet on Ivan’s lap. Ivan would have a book in one hand and would massage Rory’s feet with the other. All three cats would be cuddled around them, and a fire would crackle in the fireplace, casting a warm glow in the small room. Foot rubs would lead to calf rubs, then up to the thighs and beyond. Books would get tossed, clothes would fly, and cats would scatter. Ivan would take Rory in front of the fireplace so he could watch the play of light on his skin as he sank into him. The scene was pure domestic bliss—something Ivan didn’t expect to have for himself, yet it seemed wholly attainable when Rory was nearby.
“I’ll join you as soon as I can.” Ivan’s voice sounded rough and gritty, and Rory responded with a wide smile.
“I don’t know where your mind went just now, but I like it.” Rory stood on his tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Ivan’s lips before heading out. “Good luck, not that you’re going to need it. I know you’re going to be great.”
Ivan heard a car pull up not long after Rory left and took steadying breaths to settle his nerves. He forced a smile to his lips and headed outside to greet Roberto, who would act as the interviewer and photographer. The editor had black hair, an olive complexion, and twinkling brown eyes.
“Ivan, thank you so much for meeting with me. Especially on such short notice. Cash said interviews aren’t normally your thing, and that makes me even more grateful you agreed to this one. Your honey is superb, and I can’t wait for my readers to learn more about you and your operation.” His warm demeanor put Ivan at ease right away and that held throughout the interview. Ivan wasn’t sure if it was because Rory really had prepared him well or if it was just knowing that Rory would be waiting for him after everything was done, but the interview wasn’t as horrible as Ivan had anticipated. Roberto was kind and genuinely interested in what Ivan had to say. The experience was nothing like Ivan’s previous encounters with the press when it had always felt like the reporters were trying to catch him out and trip him up so he’d look like the asshole they wanted him to be.
Cash arrived near the end and greeted Roberto with a backslapping hug. They took a few minutes to catch up, and Roberto pivoted to questions they both could answer. At no point did he employ gotcha tactics, and Ivan felt silly for being nervous at all. Then they transitioned to photographs. Roberto snapped pictures of Ivan and Cash individually and together, but he spent most of his attention on the little barrel of honey. Harry arrived with a basket of baked goodies and another barrel of honey just as they walked Roberto to his car. The man was delighted with the treats and helped himself to a muffin as he was buckling his seat belt. Roberto drove off with a honk and a wave.
Ivan turned to Cash once he left. “How’d the meeting go with the FBI about Salvation Anew?”
Something dark washed over Cash’s features, but it was gone before Ivan could place the emotion. It wasn’t anger or fear. More like annoyance. “It was probably a waste of time, through no fault of Nick’s. The agent I met with, Joplin, didn’t seem too motivated to dig into their background. There have been no violent acts or laws broken. They’re just a nuisance right now.”
“What did he suggest if anything?” Ivan asked.
Cash quirked a brow. “Joplin said I needed to counter their recent bullshit targeting the ranch with positive deeds the community will rally behind. He suggested hiring a PR person.”
