Page 6 of The Inn

CHAPTER4

JAMESON

Over the next few hours,CC impresses me with her resilience and determination to experience life on the farm. For the most part, CC keeps her questions based in the present. She never utters a single complaint about the unexpected cold streak, but I can tell she feels it by the way her nipples pop through her shirt.

From wearing muck boots to feedings and cleaning pens, she takes it in stride. She’s more invested than I imagined she would be and that is fucking hot. By the time we’re wrapping up our chores for the day and headed back home, I’m pretty pent up.

My dick aches from the constant swelling and shrinking that happens every time I get a glimpse of her massive tits under that thin shirt. Constantly thinking about bending her over a railing and getting behind her is exhausting. Nothing has changed, it isn’t going to happen.

When we pass my front porch, Mom is already there waiting. She’s insisting that we come by her place for dinner in an hour. Both of us.Why the hell are we treating CC like a member of the family? I did my part, answered her questions, and showed her life on the farm. Don’t I deserve to get some peace?

I consider objecting, throwing a big man-fit. But I can tell by the look on Mom’s face that the decision has already been made. Besides, if I don’t go, CC will and so will Archie and Dakota. This dinner is going to happen with or without me. If I’m there, at least I can keep an eye on things.

I might be thirty-seven, but I know when I’ve lost to Mom’s whims. Instead of objecting, I settle on grumbling a protest to myself as I make my way back home to get ready. At least I can take a shower and relieve some of this ridiculous tension before then.

An hour later I arrive just in time to meet CC at the base of Mom’s porch. My eyes rake over every inch of her body draped in another paper-thin shirt covered in flowers. This one is flowy and it moves when she walks. When my line of sight gets up to her face she’s flushing a deep crimson and I wonder whether she’s caught me staring. I hope not. I might be an asshole, but I’m not a creep. But the pink cheeks are a good look on her. Her full lips and doe eyes are a stunning combination.

I open the door, gesturing her up onto the porch. “After you.”

“Thanks.” Summer steps into the old farmhouse and my gaze instantly drops down to where the swell of her ass is being tightly hugged by a pair of faded jeans. I blow out a breath followed by only two thoughts.Dammit, this woman is going to be the death of me. I really hope Archie isn’t going to be here tonight.

As we walk inside, the familiar smell of my mother’s cooking floods the air but it’s not enough to drown out the sunshine radiating off of CC. I lead the way into the dining room. This house has a timeless charm that only my mother can create. The old furniture holds stories of our past and the farmhouse table takes center stage.

My great-grandfather carved with his own hands out of weathered wood from an oak cut on Robinson’s property back when we were all one big ranch. But I don’t tell CC any of that, some things are too special to share with someone whose job is telling your secrets to the world. No matter how much I’m drawn to her, I can’t forget that.

Mom and Dakota are standing in the kitchen. Both with hair pulled back, both with checkered aprons. But as similar as they are standing in personality especially when standing side by side, it’s my sister Olivia who got Mom’s looks.

“Hi, you must be Summer. I’m Dakota Findlay, so nice to meet you.” Dakota makes a dash toward CC and wraps her in a hug. These two are going to be fast friends and I’m not sure I like that. Not that it matters, by tomorrow morning, CC will be nothing but a distant memory.

Mom starts, “We went all out for dinner. I hope you don’t mind. It isn’t too often that I get to cook for guests anymore. I never pass up an opportunity. I’ve got a pot roast in the oven and Dakota put some veggies on the grill straight from our gardens.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Dakota says with a shake of her head. “Just some squash and potatoes. I did whip up a batch of buttermilk biscuits too. Oh and some homemade vinaigrette for the salad. But other than that…”

“Will you two stop it? CC, this isn’t a family holiday.” This is these two treating our reporter like a house guest and pulling out all the stops. I shake my head.

“Oh Jameson, stop it. Let us have this one.” Mom waves a hand at me. “CC I told you not to let him scare you away. You’re still here, so I’m impressed already. I know you two have worked up an appetite today and we’re going to take care of that now. Go sit, please sit, it’s ready. And Jameson, your brother’s going to grace us with his presence too at some point.”

“Wonderful.” I grimace at the thought, then take the seat closest to CC.

“Wow, this is incredible. Thank you so much for having me. It’s an honor.” CC slides into a wooden chair at the table. “This looks amazing, Mrs. Findlay. I appreciate all the trouble you two went through.”

Mom bites back a grin. “Oh stop it, it’s no trouble. Jameson butchered the chicken early this morning. We don’t cull from the flock very often, but I knew I wanted tonight to be—”

“Mom stop, people don’t like to think about where their food comes from,” Dakota mumbles under her breath.

My eyes dart to CC, but there isn’t any recoil in her eyes. Instead, she pulls her head back and looks right at me. “I’d love to hear about that later, for the article, of course. And you two, I’d love to hear more about your experiences out here on the farm. Anything you feel comfortable sharing would be wonderful. From what I can tell, you two might just be the heart of this operation.”

Just like that both my mother and my sister are pulled under CC’s spell. I can see it all over their faces. They’ll sing like canaries when she goes open season on them with all of her questions. Hell, they might even talk about the past and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I let out a sigh. I’ve got to get this woman off of our farm.

“No, the heart of the operation, that’d be me.” Archie's voice bellows two octaves too loud and I hate the way CC’s face lights up when she turns to look at him.

“Here we go,” I mutter as Dakota and Mom load up the table.

“Who do we have here?” Archie makes his way around the table and takes CC by the hand.

He looks straight down her top and I have to fight the urge to punch him in his smug face. But of course, I can’t do that because his face is too valuable. Archie is on every promotional pamphlet we’ve ever made. No doubt, he’ll be the cover of CC’s article, never mind the fact that his hands are too smooth to ever have spent a single day on actual farm work any time in our recent history.

Archie is a college man, an agricultural engineering whiz. But after one of our many fallouts with Robinson Ranch, he’s decided to put all that away and use his chiseled jawline todo his partfor the family business. In his case, it means taking photos and sharing them online. It’s a damn shame if you ask me.

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