Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
I arch a brow, playing along. “Isn’t that against boss-employee relations?”
Tad leans in, close enough that his breath stirs the hair at my ear. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the sheep.”
Before I can answer, a voice cuts through the crowd.
“Beatrice Bishop!”
I turn to find Eileen striding over to us, a notebook in her hand and her eyes alight with bulldog focus.
Oh, here we go.
Once she closes the distance, I don’t hesitate to tease her. “Eileen, I don’t think now is the time to be harassing people for an article you will undoubtedly embellish and dramatize.”
Eileen ignores the dig and gets straight to the point. “Oh, honey, it’s always time for that. Rain or shine or festival. And since you’re here tonight, I’d be remiss in my duties as Red Bridge’s most trusted reporter if I didn’t ask you how life on the Hanson Farm is? Word on the street is that you’re working there nowadays?”
I smile sweetly, already knowing exactly what I’m doing. “Oh, you know, Eileen. It’s been very hands on.”
Her brows shoot up. “Hands on?”
“Mm-hmm. Early mornings. Long nights. A lot of…manual labor.” I pause long enough to let the innuendo hang between us. “But I’m adjusting. My boss is an excellent teacher.”
“And Breezy is an excellent student. Very hands-on kind of woman. Always up for a challenge,” Tad chimes in, and Eileen’s eyes go so wide I fear her eyeballs might pop out of her skull.
“Good with her hands?” Eileen chokes out. “Please expand.”
“There’s not much to expand,” he says. “She’s a real natural…with the flock. A real go-getter.”
I have to bite my lip to fight my laughter. But I also can’t stop myself from adding to the mental fucking Eileen is currently getting. “Well, I couldn’t do it without my boss’s very thorough training or the way he insists on such close supervision.”
“This is all very…fascinating.” Eileen’s pen flies across the page. “Local art dealer trades city life for sheep and…uh…hands-on…mentorship. Does this mean you’ll be staying in Red Bridge longer…maybe permanently?”
Well, shit. Apparently, she’s turning the tables on me.
I clear my throat, my heart and mind completely at war with the answer to that question. “Oh, I don’t—”
“I think what Breezy is trying to say here is that she wants to enjoy the rest of the night now,” Tad interjects with a smile. “Been real nice chatting with ya, though, Eileen. Be sure to make the headline a good one.” He winks. “Something like Bishop Gets Down and Dirty on the Hanson Farm feels apt. But hell, what do I know? You’re the brilliant reporter, right?”
Eileen, scandalized and thrilled all at once, clutches her notebook to her chest like it’s holy scripture. “I’ll definitely take that into consideration.”
The moment she’s moved on from us and to some other poor soul in the bar, Tad bursts out laughing. “Hands-on training? Way to bury the lede. I thought we were trying to keep our dirty deeds on the down-low.”
“Oh, like you should talk.” I’m glaring and smiling at him at the same time. “That headline suggestion is going to have everyone in town thinking I’m sleeping with you and Randy again.”
Tad cracks up. “Hey, I was just rolling with your punches, Betsy. And man, oh man, you sure rocked Eileen Martin hard with the close supervision line.”
“I didn’t know you were going to take it up fifty notches by suggesting a Breezy gets down and dirty headline!” I whisper-yell, but I’m also laughing. “You’re insufferable.”
He waggles his brows. “And yet you keep showing up for work.”
“Must be the benefits package,” I answer with a knowing, devious smile. “Though, I do regret that I forgot to tell her that my boss makes me call him Farm Daddy.”
“Woman, you’re trouble.” He chuckles, the sound rolling deep and warm in my chest, and before I can blink, he takes my hand and pulls me into the crush of dancers.
The fiddle kicks into something fast and wild. Boots pound. The floor trembles. Tad’s hands find my waist, guiding me through steps I clearly don’t know, and I’m laughing so hard I can’t even care.
“Left foot, Bishop!” he shouts.
I accidentally step right and crash into Sheriff Peeler, who gives me a friendly pat before spinning off again. Tad keeps me on my feet with a steady and sure hand at my hip.
“Easy,” he teases. “Or else my new farmhand is about to embarrass the whole Hanson Farm. What would Crosby think if he found out his girlfriend can’t do a two-step?”
“Oh, shut up. I’m trying over here!” I shoot back through a cackle. “It’s not my fault you have ginormous feet!”
Tad waggles his brows, a devious grin striking his lips, and I roll my eyes. However, what I don’t do is refute whatever gutter his mind has crawled into. I’ve seen and experienced his cock, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t say he lives up to the big feet equals big dick saying.