"...and he's been with Kelli since college. We should go to dinner with them. You'd like Kel..."
I turn toward the side of the road and watch the fields of seedlings, trying to ignore what he’s saying as he talks about Kelli Buchanan and her children. I focus instead on the rush of the wind, because what he's saying is crossing a line. It's taking whatever this is between us and moving it back to New York. We both know that won't happen.
"Don't you think?" he asks.
Though I'm not sure what he said, I nod and try to smile.
Pretend.
Less than an hour after we landed, Duncan turns the Lexus off the country road and onto the lane leading to my parents' home. On either side of the hard gravel lane are trees with bright green spring leaves and the remnants of white pear blossoms. Beyond the trees lining the lane are fields that extend for acres and acres.
My dad farmed this land when I was little, and now Kevin helps. Together they've acquired more and more acreage. The day of small farmers existing on their own is almost gone, but with more land and more acres of crops, it's still possible. They’re even renting a portion to a cell tower. The money is good and more importantly, my cell phone actually works here now.
The crunching gravel creates a dust wake as we make our way toward the house.
It's the same home that's been here since my father’s parents lived on this farm. White wood siding, two story, wraparound porch, and rooms filled with laughter. My concerns over Duncan's and my performance disappear as I anticipate seeing my family. Though it's true I avoid them, I can't help but love them.
Before the car comes to a complete stop, the screen door opens wide and my mom and grandma rush out onto the porch.
"Kimberly Ann!" they yell in unison.
I lean toward Duncan. "Oh, my family's a little loud."
His smile shines from me to them and back to me as he mouths Kimberly Ann?
I turn back to my mom and grandma. By the gleam in my grandma's eyes as she gazes at Duncan and the car, it's obvious that she approves.
"Oh my. Kimberly Ann," she says, reaching my car door first. "I know why you've kept this man a secret. You're afraid if he meets Grandma Helen, he'll decide that like fine wine, women are better when aged."
I tilt my head toward Grandma as I reach for her hand upon the door. "Duncan, this is my grandma Helen."
"Very nice to meet you, ma'am."
"Helen's the name," she says with a wink.
As Duncan and I get out of the car, we're both wrapped in hugs.
Mom pushes Duncan to arm's length and looks him up and down. "My, my, we need to know all about you." She shoots me a sideways glance. "My mother's right. Kimberly hasn't told us much at all. Now, we have dinner cooking. I hope you like steak. If not, we have chicken." She stops. "Tell me you're not one of those vegetarian people."
"No, ma'am, I'm not. Steak will be wonderful."
"My name's Judy. There're no ma'ams here." She grabs his elbow and leads him toward the porch.
Grandma stays back with me. Once Mom and Duncan are a few feet ahead, Grandma leans her head back and pretends to fan herself. "Goodness, girl. You have yourself a hottie." She leans closer yet and attempts to whisper. "Your momma said he has his own plane. Is that true?"
I shake my head. "It's a company plane, for the company where we work."
"But you were alone?"
My cheeks fight the need to blush. "There were other people, like the pilot and an attendant."
Her whisper grows louder and I'm thankful Duncan and Mom are farther ahead. "Oh, child, tell me you did that mile-high thing? I always wanted to do that but your grandpa was worried about the bathrooms on planes. They're so small and sometimes, if we did it in unusual positions, he would get cramps in his legs..."
I let her keep talking as we make our way inside, hoping she'll forget her question and not expect an answer.
Chapter Twelve
Duncan
I'm in an alternate universe and it's every fantasy I never knew I had.
What CEO of a billion-dollar company dreams of enjoying a farm in the middle of nowhere? Who imagines waking in a small bedroom, complete with a canopy bed and sunshine streaming through pink curtains, as birds sing? What owner of a 7,000-square-foot penthouse with a to-die-for view of the Empire State Building enjoys the hominess of a hundred-year-old, 3,000-square-foot farmhouse with a wraparound porch, creaky floors, and a view of cornfields?
Sitting with a cup of steaming black coffee, I listen as Kimbra and her brother, Kevin, bicker back and forth while helping their mother in the large eat-in kitchen. The warm spring air is filled with the sizzle of frying as the aroma of coffee, eggs, and bacon reminds me of some of the best diners in New York.
Although Kimbra's dad, Oscar, is talking, I can't concentrate on anything but Kimbra—Kimberly Ann. That's what everyone here calls her.
"Because of you, I'm out ten bucks," Kevin says, not doing a good job of whispering.
"Me?" Kimbra asks. "What did I do?"
Kevin tilts his head my way. "You brought a real guy here. I put money on him being made up."
Kimbra reaches out and punches his shoulder.
He lifts his hands in surrender. "No. Listen. I was sure it was a good bet. When Mom said your boyfriend's name wasn't Timothy, but Duncan, and you didn't want him in the wedding, Susan and I figured he wasn't real. I bet Jimmy ten bucks this fake Duncan guy would be a no-show. Susan and I were sure that before last night, you'd have some reason why at the last minute he couldn't attend. You know, like you’d make up some accident or something."
Her brother is about as good at speaking softly as he is at being nice to his sister.
"Shut up!" Kimbra whispers back. "Obviously, he's real."
Kevin's head falls back in laughter. "He's real, all right. Last night I thought your old bed was going to collapse."
Kimbra's eyes flash to me. And though I look down at my coffee and pray her dad isn't listening, the gleam in her expression makes my cock twitch with the memories of the night before.
I'd done what I'd promised.
After she introduced me to her family and we endured an eight-course meal, including a barrage of family stories designed mostly to embarrass Kimbra, we tried to excuse ourselves, claiming we were tired from work and the trip.
Kimbra's grandma, Helen, wouldn't hear of it. She insisted the entire family gather in the kitchen and play five-card stud and seven-card draw. Thank God we were only playing for pennies, otherwise the woman would have taken my company and my penthouse. Kimbra wasn't kidding when she said her grandma was ruthless. She's also hilarious. I can't remember when I laughed as much.
Once we were finally alone in her little girly room, I found myself enthralled.
In a matter of hours, Kimbra had become someone else. No longer the HR professional who commands a boardroom of employees, here in her hometown and in her bedroom, Kimbra became someone more than the beautiful, competent woman I thought I knew. She became someone with feelings and dreams.