my mind and concentrate on the work that needed to be done. I had a meeting with Pete and Brad and Georgia tomorrow, and I wanted to go in prepared. More than prepared—if Jack said anything to them about my less-than-professional behavior, I had to counter that with proof I was good at my job.
When I was finally clean, I put on my pajamas, pulled from the freezer a pitiful frozen lasagna that probably came off an assembly line six years ago, and opened a bottle of wine. While I waited for the lasagna to heat up in the microwave, I called Jaime.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Great.” I forced myself to be cheerful. “I’m fired up. I’ve got lots of ideas.”
“Awesome. Hit me.”
I told her about some of the ideas I had—beyond the obvious ones like creating a logo, revamping the website, and using social media, I described agritourism and why I thought it would work for them. “I’ve done the research and there aren’t that many places around here offering unique experiences…I’m going to talk with Pete and Georgia tomorrow about the possibilities of a small restaurant on site with a chef’s table, cooking classes, weddings and other special events. I think their place could be a real destination.”
“Sounds great. What about the grouch? He gonna go for all that?”
I sighed as I pulled the lasagna from the microwave. It was still frozen in the center but bubbling at the edges. “Nope. Probably none of it.”
“Ugh, what a pain. Can you work around him?”
“Who knows? He basically told me earlier he doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t involve him. Of course, he might have been mad because I saw him naked.”
“Excuse me?”
While I nuked the lasagna some more, I told her what had happened this morning, and she laughed.
“What’s going on with you, anyway? For thirty years, you’ve lived this perfect, well-mannered life and now you’re throwing scones and climbing trees to spy on naked men.”
Pulling the entree out again, I stabbed at the lasagna, now burnt at the edges. “Maybe I’m tired of behaving properly all the time. I’m experimenting with letting my gut take over.”
“I heartily applaud this experiment. You’ve always been way too well-behaved. Have some fun. Throw scones. Spy on naked men. Do more than that if you want.”
As I chewed a bite of tasteless, rubbery lasagna, I considered confiding in Jaime about what had happened in the barn. I wasn’t usually a kiss-and-tell kind of person, but maybe if I talked it out with Jaime, I could make more sense of it.
“Actually, I did a little more than that today.” I filled her in, and she was silent the whole time.
“Wow,” she said once I’d gotten to the part where he yelled at me to leave. “That is messed up.”
“I know.” Giving up on the lasagna for the moment, I took a bag of baby carrots out of the fridge and munched on them instead. They reminded me of the meal we’d had at Pete and Georgia’s house today at lunchtime—a delicious beet salad, everything from their own garden except the goat cheese (but that was made at a Michigan creamery) and some grilled pork tenderloin in barbecue sauce made with local peaches. I eyed the carrots in the bag, perfectly uniform and lacking in any personality whatsoever. Perfect could be so boring.
“And he’s a client,” Jaime reminded me.
“I know. I keep telling myself that. It’s just…I’m drawn to him for some reason, not that I could tell you what it is,” I said irritably. “I can list ten reasons I shouldn’t be.”
She laughed. “I’ll tell you what the reason is. He’s fucking hot. Here’s two more—he’s got a big dick, and you haven’t been laid since Tripp the Drip.”
I groaned. “Thanks for the reminder.” The memory of Jack’s dick pressing into my pelvic bone made my insides tighten.
“Sorry, Gogo. I shouldn’t tease. So what are you going to do?”
“Forget about him. What else is there to do?”
She sighed. “That’s probably for the best. I fully support getting outside your comfort zone, but a widowed Vet farmer who’s also a client might be too far out.”
“Way too far.” So far it shouldn’t matter this much.
“You OK? You need me to come up there for the meeting tomorrow?”
“No. I’m fine.” I tried to sound confident. “I promise this thing will not affect my work.”
“I know it won’t. You’re a perfectionist. That will never change.” She paused. “But did you really