Page 72 of Eat Your Heart Out

“Having sex with a cheap, fat girl like that, Jeremy! How could you?”

Ugh, that woman! His mother’s voice still echoed in my head, and after half a bottle of wine, the woman still sounded like an uptight bitch. God, that night had wrecked me. I still felt pangs in my chest, wondering what could have been if not for the untimely interruption. But thinking like that was dangerous for a girl like me. What-ifs and could-have-beens were the fast track to nowhere.

“Well, screw you, Mrs. I-am-better-than everybody-Kent,” I mumbled, stripping out of my travel clothes, and stepping into the skimpy little thing.

“Wonder what you woulda said, finding me wearing this little getup with your son on Christmas morning at your breakfast table,” I muttered, missing the leg opening once before finding it.

And then, for reasons only wine could explain, I walked out the back door, wearing nothing but the teddy. My boobs, ass, and pussy were all on display—thank goodness I was neatly trimmed and freshly shaved—I sashayed my naked butt all the way to the Kent’s greenhouse.

After a few minutes of fumbling with the doorknob, I picked up a brick lying on the ground, looking for the old key that used to be hidden there. But it was gone.

Well, fuckety fuck nuts.

Looking at the brick, I shrugged and broke the pane of glass closest to the doorknob. Then I reached in carefully, not cutting myself, and undid the lock. Next, I went inside.

It was dark, but there was a strip of gentle, blue light running along the floor in each aisle. That was all I really needed to see where I was going, and of course, the small stream of light from my phone helped.

“Mm.” I moaned, welcoming the warmth. I should have put on a robe, I thought as I shivered, knowing full well my nipples were hard as rocks, but oh well. There was no one there to see them.

The place had changed a lot. Instead of bags of dirt and carelessly tossed trowels and other gardening tools, everything was neat and clean, and simply amazing. PVC pipes with strategically cut holes, holding everything from seedlings to fully ripened vegetables, fruits, and herbs, lined every bit of available space.

“Wow!” I gasped, eyes wide as I walked from row to row. I stopped when I saw what looked like a row of clear buckets with the prettiest carrots growing directly in the water!

Unable to help myself, I reached into one carefully, extracting one long, hard, bright orange root vegetable. My mouth hung open when I had to use both hands to fully encircle its girth. The thing was enormous, and so damn pretty. I grinned as I stroked the thing, laughing again as I thought of something raunchy Kelsey would say if she were there.

Did I mention carrots were my favorite vegetable?

The lights came on suddenly, and I squeaked as the sound of someone sucking in a lungful of air broke through my wine-induced happy haze. Turning around slowly like a deer in headlights, my eyes went wide with shock when I recognized just who it was who’d caught me with my hands on his carrot!

Chapter Four- Jeremy

“Rena?” I said, shocked as I pointed my phone at the woman who’d been haunting my dreams for over a decade.

This is it. I am finally losing my mind.

I scrubbed a hand roughly over my face and tried to figure out how this could have happened. The day had started out like any other. I was me. Jeremy Kent. Thirty-two years old, divorced, and alone for the holidays.

I’d returned to the Kent Global Farms home base to get my head on straight after checking in on Mom and Dad in Aspen via smart phone. My parents were never the warm or loving type, but I was a dutiful son even now.

They were nothing like my old neighbors, the Grimaldis. The fact I spent more time in that house than my own up until junior year, when my parents shipped me off to boarding school, was something I would never forget. I missed that old couple like hell. And their granddaughter.

On that last Christmas before I was sent away, all my wildest teenage dreams had come true in the shape of a curvy little girl who’d moved in next door. She was the granddaughter of the folks I considered family, and my very first love.

My heart pounded as memories assaulted me. Falling for Morena Grimaldi was like jumping in a pool on one of those hundred degree, humid days we used to get in summer. I had no choice really, and even more, I wanted to. I wanted her more than I ever wanted anyone else before and since. Feelings I’d had for any of my exes—and there hadn’t been that many—couldn’t compare to the way I felt about her.

Christ, I never thought I would ever see her again. Sure, Rena still filled my thoughts. For years, I recalled how it felt to be inside her warm, tight body. To kiss her sweet lips. To hold her close.

She always smelled like cinnamon and spice, and fuck, I still remembered how good she tasted. I was back home for the holidays this year, getting ready to renovate the old place I had bought from my parents, and yeah, I’d been thinking about that Christmas Eve when I’d lost my virginity to the first girl I ever loved.

Most people hated their first time. I’d been told by many that it was awkward and disappointing, not to mention messy and embarrassingly fast. Not me. I remembered my first time with bittersweet fondness. Sixteen was likely too young to entertain such a big passion, but we were young and in love.

What started out as a pretty petting session had ended up with the two of us naked, and writhing together to reach that pinnacle some never find. Simultaneously, we came, and it was beautiful and poignant and perfect, and I’d been looking for that connection again, for someone like her, my whole damn life. Still, I never expected to find her here! And in that!

I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you, God!

Rena Grimaldi, the one that got away, was right in front of me. She was wearing the sexiest, raunchiest scrap of lingerie I had ever seen, standing in my greenhouse, with her luscious hands wrapped round my carrot.

“Holy fuck! Jeremy?” she squeaked, plump lips open as she gaped in surprise.

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