“We’ll get there, babe,” she said. “One thing at a time.”
I liked the way she smiled at him, which seemed to communicate more than just words.
While Georgia set the kitchen table, we chatted a little about the area, what shops and restaurants they recommended, and how they’d met Quinn. We were joined shortly by the oldest Valentini brother, Brad, who greeted me kindly but seemed more businesslike than his younger brother and sister-in-law. He wore a suit whereas they were both dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I kept glancing at the back door, wondering when the third brother was going to make an appearance, but he still hadn’t shown up when Pete suggested we sit down to eat.
“Should we wait for Jack?” Georgia asked, glancing out the window toward the backyard.
Pete and Brad exchanged a look, and neither of them spoke right away. “I’m not sure he’s coming,” Pete finally said.
“And I have showings this afternoon, so it’s better for me if we don’t wait around.” Brad took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before sitting down.
“Oh. OK.” Looking slightly defeated for a second, Georgia indicated a chair for me and filled four plates with slices of quiche and bacon and fresh vegetables. “Everything on the plate in front of you is from this farm,” she said proudly. “Eggs from our chickens, bacon from our pigs, veggies from the gardens.”
“Wow.” I smiled as I unfolded my napkin and laid it across my lap. “That’s really—”
Bang!
The sound of the kitchen door slamming shut made me jump. I glanced up, and there he was. Jack Valentini. He appeared even taller and more imposing than he had in the photograph online. Maybe it was because I was sitting. Maybe it was the sweaty t-shirt that said ARMY (was he a Veteran?), which hugged his narrow waist, broad chest, and bulging biceps. Or maybe it was his stance—feet apart, chest out, fists clenched at his sides. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn he came here looking for a fight.
And from the way he was eyeballing me, I had a pretty good idea who the opponent might be. (Had I known, I’d have brought a tray of scones.)
“Jack, glad you could make it,” said Georgia brightly. “Come sit down, I’ll get you a plate.”
“I’m not staying.”
“At least say hello to Margot Lewiston.” Pete tried hard to sound casual, but I could sense the tension. “She’s the woman we talked about last night.”
“I figured.” Jack stared at me, crossed his arms over his bulky chest, but offered no hello. His expression was shadowed by the brim of a black cap, but the clenched jaw was plainly visible.
Was he an asshole or was he just having a bad day? Either way, he’s a client. Rising to my feet, I turned on the charm, flipped my hand in a little wave. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to working with your family. You’ve got a beautiful place.”
“I was just telling Margot that everything on her plate was grown or raised right here,” Georgia said, obviously trying to engage him.
I smiled at him. “That’s so impressive. I was thinking as I ate dinner last night that it’s never even occurred to me at a restaurant or in the grocery store to wonder about where or how my food was grown.”
“You’re not alone in that,” said Pete, pouring four glasses of wine. “But I think if more people knew about the hazards of large-scale industrial agriculture—to humans, to animals, to the environment—they’d definitely care more about where their food comes from.”
“And the food they feed their children,” added Georgia as she seated herself next to me. “Jack’s taught me so much about the harmful effects of things like pesticides, antibiotics, food additives.”
A plaintive cry from the monitor on the counter made everyone look in that direction. Georgia sighed and stood up again. “I knew it was too good to be true when he barely fussed. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll do it.” Jack flipped a switch on the monitor and took off toward the now-distant sound of the crying child. As he passed me, our eyes met. He immediately looked away, but not before I saw up close how handsome he was—or would be if he took the scowl off his face. It left me a little breathless, and I needed a moment to regain my composure.
“Works for me.” Georgia sat down and picked up her fork. “Jack’s so good with Cooper, especially when it comes to getting him to sleep.”
“We have no idea what he does up there.” Pete laughed. “I think he drugs him.”
“Oh, hush,” Georgia said. “He’s just gentle and patient. He sings to him.”
He sings to him? I couldn’t picture it. “Does Jack have kids?” I glanced in the direction of the stairs, curious about the handsome, broody farmer who appeared to have a soft side.
“No.” Something in Georgia’s voice made me pause. It was a one-word answer, but I felt like there was a story there somehow.
“Come on, let’s eat,” Brad said impatiently.
We dug in, and a few minutes later, Jack returned, heading through the kitchen toward the back door without stopping. I didn’t miss the glance he sent in my direction, though. It made my heart beat a tiny bit faster.
Georgia spoke up. “Why don’t you sit with us for just a minute?”
“Because I’m busy,” he snapped, his hand on the door handle. “I’m the only one working out there today.”