Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
IRIS
T he nuzzle of a sheep’s velvet nose was the most perfect thing Iris had ever felt.
“I wonder what the Boston municipal codes say about sheep as a city pet,” she mused aloud.
The Chestnut Hollow Inn & Farm didn’t quite live up to the Clovely Inn, but they were neck and neck in the cuteness category, thanks to Maaaay bel the sheep. The staff insisted everyone make the baaah sound to distinguish from Mabel the farmer (no sheep sound).
She and Sam had opted to take the barnyard tour before the hayride started. They walked through the rolling hills of the inn’s farmland. It was a nearly self-sustaining farm-to-table inn, with vegetables, eggs, dairy, and meat coming from what they grew on the grounds.
It was the first day of their stay, and thus far, everything was a fall harvest dream.
Except that it would all be over soon.
She didn’t want her time with Sam to end. They had one more night together, and then they’d go back to Boston. Her dream assignment would be over.
Only one day away from her carriage turning back into a pumpkin.
They hadn’t talked about “what this was” between them, and she didn’t want to reveal even a shred of clinginess to Sam.
They’d only slept together a few times (okay, seven, not that she was counting). For some people, that wouldn’t mean much, just a casual fling. But whatever was between them felt like it was long overdue and serious, and not something she could just throw away as a vacation fling.
An old-timey awooga car horn interrupted her thoughts. Head back in the game, Bertone. I can’t stumble on the last inn just because I got dickmatized by my decades-long rival.
She tugged on Sam’s shirt. “Let’s get a good seat for the hayride so you can take photos.”
As Iris stepped up onto the tall milk crate to get onto the hayride trailer, she wobbled and nearly toppled over .
Two sturdy hands grabbed her hips—her ass, really. “Watch it,” he said with that smirk she’d come to realize was not chastising but quite the opposite. Sultry, flirty.
She gained her balance as Sam gave her a little push on her ass, and she stepped into the trailer easily.
“Thanks for the lift,” she said with a raise of her eyebrows.
He hopped up with a practiced, athletic ease. “Trust me.” He smirked as he sat down, blatantly staring at her butt. “It was my pleasure.”
It was a busy day, and the entire ride was full. Sam pulled Iris onto his lap to make more room for an extra couple.
“This okay?” he murmured.
“Best seat in the house,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her cheek and situated his camera in her lap.
Has it been this simple all along?
Their friends and fellow newspaper staff had shouted “just kiss already” at them multiple times throughout high school and college as they’d railed against each other in constant disagreement. Sparks flew in passionate arguments as they insulted the other’s logic, their hygiene, but never their character.
An older woman in her sixties in worn overalls hopped onto the footboard of the antique tractor hitched to the trailer. “Welcome, I’m Mabel. All right, first stop on our hayride is the pumpkin patch.”
It was a crisp fall morning, and Iris cuddled against Sam’s jacket. She put on every layer of flannel that she’d brought with her. Iris wiggled with excitement. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to an honest-to-goodness pumpkin patch before.”
They bumped and swayed as the tractor slowly rolled down a gentle hill toward a neighboring farm. Green vines crawled over the ground as they made their way to the center of the pumpkin patch where enormous gourds, yellow squash, and pumpkins stretched as far as she could see. Families milled about, picking what they could find.
The sun was shining on Iris’s face, and she raised it up to catch more of it to warm her.
Sam squeezed her side. “Warm enough?”
“Never,” she sighed. “But I’m glad I have my own personal space heater.”
He squeezed her. “Your Christmas gift is going to be all compression socks.”
Christmas? Well, that’s a good sign.
Nope, nope. Don’t read into this, Iris. Don’t get your hopes up. He obviously will be doing things and going places in the world.
For all you know, you’ll be begging the Scallywag to take you back.
“So, when we get back to Boston,” Sam said, and her stomach dropped. “There’s this museum exhibit I have tickets to. I think you’d like it.”
A smile crept onto her face. Her mind whirled as he described a photography exhibit. She had absolutely no idea how to ask without sounding like a clingy maniac: so we’re dating now, right?
“You listening?” He jostled her. “Or are you rearranging our fifteen-minute-chunk schedule in your head?”
She stuck her tongue out. And then, because he was the only person that had seen all the worst sides of her and was still here, she just decided to go for it.
“So we’re dating now, right?” she blurted out, suddenly holding her breath.
Fuuuuck fuckity fuck fuck.
The trailer stopped abruptly, as if appalled at how desperate she sounded.
He held onto her as they lurched, and he laughed, shaking his head in amazement. They’d stopped at the center of the pumpkin patch.
“I feel like I’m getting mixed signals here,” she said with confusion. “You know what? Just pretend I had an out of body experience, and that scarecrow doll asked you that?—”
“Iris.” He kissed her cheek, slow and long. “I haven’t felt myself with anybody like this in”—he paused—“ever. I’ve never had a partner in crime like you. And last night, and the night before.” He cleared his throat.
There are kids around, after all , she thought.
“Well, it’s never been that good.”
“Really?” she said, shocked and surprised. Sam was a hot hot hottie, and she’d assumed he’d had orgy-level hot sex before her with how he’d fucked her their first time.
She clenched just thinking about it. Goddamn .
His mouth turned down in disbelief. “Has it been with you?”
“Oh, god, no.” She laughed. “Bart was…well, a beige flag on all bases.”
“So, yes, obviously we’re dating.”
A blinding smile appeared on her face. She could hardly contain it. “Really?”
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“No, no, no,” she said quickly. “I just… you know. We’re gonna be home soon, and I wasn’t sure. I’d like to have a plan.”
He laughed as he tapped her side to get up. They were the only two left on the hayride trailer. “Shocker.”
They wandered through the pumpkin patch hand in hand. Young families walked through, picking out the pumpkins they’d use for decorations. The scene was gentle chaos, and Iris had never felt so enchanted looking at vines.
A gorgeous but older, in-need-of-repair farmhouse stood on the property with a small thatched cottage behind it.
“Look how cute that is,” she said as they walked around the vine-wrapped patch. “It looks like a little witch cottage.”
“That’s mine.” A tall man in flannel waved shyly as he stood by the pumpkin price sign. “I’m Blake. Jameson,” he added at the end.
Iris put on her reporter hat (mentally—she’d forgotten to pack literal hats for the trip). “This is the beginning of the season, right? You have a lot of pumpkins. Are you expecting a big crowd this year?”
Blake crossed his arms with a nervous smile. “I’m hoping so. The season was rough last year, and I’m trying to make up for it. We had some very persistent deer that ruined a bunch of the crop.”
“Oh no,” Iris said with genuine disappointment.
“Yeah, that and my renter officially moved out,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. A small thatched cottage sat a few feet away from the farmhouse.
“ Ooh .” She thought back to her text exchange with Sophia.
The pumpkin patch was only ten minutes from Clovely, and Sophia would absolutely love the area.
“Are you still looking for a renter?” Iris asked with excitement.
“Uh, yeah. I keep meaning to advertise it, but there are so many other things to do here,” he said, pointing at the acres of pumpkins.
“My sister will take it.”
Blake’s eyes bugged out. “Really? She hasn’t even seen it.”
“Then let’s see it,” Iris said with a friendly smile .
Iris
I’ve solved all of your problems.
Phia the Famous
You found a butter that melts evenly?
Iris
I’ve solved *one* of your problems.
Iris sent photos of the worn but functional and warm kitchen, then a cute living room with old wood-trimmed windows that overlooked the pumpkin patch. The cottage was furnished with cozy hand-me-downs that looked like they’d been well-loved for a long time.
Phia the Famous
Are you moving?
Iris
No, you are
Sophia’s face filled the screen.
Why doesn’t she just text like a normal person? “ Old millennials, I swear,” Iris grumbled as she accepted the call.
“Did you just lease an apartment for me?” Sophia demanded.
“Not yet,” Iris said with a smile at the two men standing in the kitchen with her. “Here, talk to the landlord who lives on a perfect, adorable pumpkin farm in the most amazing town I’ve ever been in.”
She gave the quiet farmer her phone. He stepped away and spoke in a soft, murmured voice, answering what she knew were Sophia’s thousand questions about the kitchen.
“This took a turn,” Sam said with a raised, surprised eyebrow.
“Sophia is miserable in Dallas and wants to escape to someplace that will get her in the mood for her latest cookbook.”
“My mom still raves about her tortellini recipe.”
“Aw, Donna loves her recipes?”
Sam rarely talked about his mom. Sam’s parents had a very famous, very public fallout, and his mom had left their hometown.
Blake handed the phone back to her. “She wants to talk to you,” he said with a grimace, massaging his ear.
Iris excused herself to the patio attached to the cottage.
“What are the chances that I’m going to be kidnapped and put in a basement somewhere if I live at this guy’s cottage?” Sophia said, blunt as always.
“Pretty low.” Iris peeked through the window. “Seems nice, and he’s wearing a wedding ring. Plus, it’s on an honest-to-God pumpkin patch. Come on, the kitchen has a gas stove,” she sang the last part, tempting her sister. “And then you’d only be a couple hours from me. I could come over on the weekends.”
Sophia hemmed and hawed.
“Phia, it is going to be 115 degrees this weekend in Dallas. You’ve worked your ass off for ten years. You can treat yourself to a fabulous work trip.”
A long sigh sounded on the line.
“Think of the fall content you could make,” Iris said, knowing the way to her sister’s heart was through her work.
“Alright, fine,” Sophia said with excitement.
Iris opened up the door before she could change her mind and called in, “She says she’ll take it!” Addressing her sister again, she added, “I’ll get his info for you.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing it,” Sophia said, sounding even more enthusiastic now than she had a moment ago. “I gotta go pack, or maybe buy some sweaters. I’ll talk to you later!” She ended the call in a rush.
Iris grinned at her sister’s frenzied energy and shook her head.
Sam held out a hand to her. “We should go. I don’t want to miss our ride.”
As she and Sam rode back to the Chestnut Hollow Inn, she put her head on Sam’s shoulder and tried to take a mental picture of a perfect fall day sitting on the lap of the most unexpected delight.
She could admit now that she’d nursed a crush on him ever since that first day in freshman lit. He’d always been cute, but now his features had matured and solidified into handsome. He’d seen her at her absolute worst—with no sleep, hungover at a 9:00 a.m. editorial meeting in college, or after a two-week long bout with the flu in high school—and he seemed to still want her anyway. She sighed as he held her closer.
“I think Jo and Oswald are going to get very good Christmas presents this year,” she said with a smile.
He moved his head that was tucked over hers and kissed her on her temple. “From both of us.”
* * *
As they walked back into the farmhouse, Iris tried to savor every part of the last day of her assignment. Sam had already captured photos of the rough-hewn exterior. The Chestnut Hollow Inn & Farm had been a working farm and inn for over one hundred and fifty years.
Iris loved the bucolic, real decorations they used. The bushel of apples in the corner was the one she’d seen a staff member use for an event the day before. Hand-tied rugs lay on clean, long, thick pine boards. When they’d walked in the day before, she and Sam had seen pies cooling on the windowsill and clutched each other’s arms in shock. After assuring Iris and Sam multiple times that there were no ulterior motives and they were just a simple farmhouse inn, they’d finally relented, realizing they were free from the clutches of the ferret cult.
Afterward, they’d gone back to Clovely for dinner because Chef Beverly had made chicken pot pie for her signature Friday evening dish.
They were now cuddled up on the bed in their room, looking at Sam’s photos. The room was bright, rustic, and had an airy quality with white linens and white shiplap walls.
Iris peered over Sam’s shoulder as he shuffled through photo after photo on his laptop. He was still looking through the raw, unedited pictures, but she was amazed at his talent.
“You capture things the way my eye sees them,” she said in amazement.
He shrugged. “I just try to find the best shot.”
No sooner had he said that than her face came into view in a series of pictures of her laughing at him, staring into his camera lens.
“See?” He nudged her shoulder. “The best. How’s the article coming?”
“I’m still drafting thoughts, but pretty good. Will you read it when I’m done? I want your opinion before I send it to Ben.”
The editor at Discover & Dwell seemed nice, but she didn’t know his taste yet.
Sam raised his eyebrows.
“You know, since you know him,” she said defensively.
He leaned forward and kissed the side of her head.
She remembered she could be vulnerable with him now. “And…also because you’re a really good writer. Oof, this is hard and new,” she said with a smile, and he laughed, closing his laptop and wrapping his arm around her.
“What’s hard about it?”
“Now I’m just going to say all the things that are always in my head all the time, and I forget that, you know, you’re not going to use it against me.”
“I never used anything against you,” he said, pulling her to straddle him.
“Oh, falsehoods.” She put her hands on either side of his head on the bed frame. “I could name five off the top of my head,” she said as he pulled her down for a kiss.
His lips captured hers in that slow, simmering slide. His hands wrapped around hers as he held her there, her back arching into him as she straddled him, tasting him and inhaling that scent that was so happily familiar.
His head moved down to her neck, nibbling as he made his way to her breasts that were at eye level.
Iris felt a buzz between her thighs, and she pulled back. “You are three steps ahead of me.”
He pulled out his phone with a raised eyebrow. “No, but…noted for later.”
Ben, their editor, was calling. Iris sat back on her heels, still straddling Sam.
“Oh yeah, no, she’s here with me,” Sam said, answering the phone. “I’m putting Ben on speaker.”
“Hey, I’m glad I got both of you at one time. Iris you can ignore the voicemail on your phone.”
“Hi, Ben,” she chimed in. “The assignment is going great,” Iris said, wanting to sell herself well.
“Calm down,” he mouthed, blowing out a breath to cool down.
“What’s up?” she said, trying to play it cool.
“I don’t know if you saw, but MacGlinnon, our parent company, just announced layoffs. I met with the team today and we’ve officially cut out any future roles for the staff. I wanted to let you know, Iris. I know we’d talked about the full-time role on my team, and I wanted to keep you updated. ”
“Oh, okay,” Iris said. She met Sam’s eyes. There was some relief in knowing they wouldn’t be competing. But why had Ben only mentioned her name? Would Sam still go work at D&D somehow?
“How has it been working together?” Ben asked.
“Good,” they both said, smiling at each other.
“Really good,” Sam added.
“Oh, great,” Ben responded. “I just had someone tap out, and I need a writer and photographer to cover a weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains for the summer issue. It’s urgent since we’re behind. I’d like to see a draft of what you’ll both turn in in a few days for this assignment, but let’s consider you tentatively booked for the next one pending my review. You’ll need to be there next weekend. Is that an issue?”
A sly smile grew on both of their faces as they connected with the possibility of another trip together—reporting, adventuring, and exploring this new thing between them.
“Sounds perfect,” Sam said.
“Agreed. I’ll have a draft to you by Tuesday morning,” Iris said quickly.
They hung up with Ben, and Iris arched her left eyebrow, thinking.
What was going on with Sam? Had he somehow gotten a role at her dream company that wasn’t downsized?
“Uh oh, I know that face,” Sam said with a growing smile. “Out with it. What are you plotting?”
Iris narrowed her eyes. “Why did Ben only mention my name? Are you still going to have a role there? Or did you get hired into a different department already?”
Sam’s cheeks tinged pink. “Uh, no. I told Ben I wasn’t interested.”
Iris sat back on her heels in frustration, hands on her hips. “But you said you wanted it. Is this because we slept together?” She pushed away from him.
“Iris, Iris,” Sam said quickly, grabbing her hands to pull her back.
She got up so she could let the steam roll out of her ears in frustration. Just like a man, doing something without even asking what I want. “I don’t want you to just let me have things, Sam. I don’t want your castoffs. See, I knew it?—”
“Iris, darling.” He pulled her down back to the bed and put a gentle hand over her mouth. “I told Ben I wasn’t interested because…I’m not. It has nothing to do with competing with you for it.”
She took a deep breath, about to respond?—
“I’d been searching for something,” he said, cutting her off, probably sensing a monologue coming. “Searching for something that would make my life better. More…settled. I thought maybe a full-time role with a magazine would be it. But it turns out, I just needed you. Your tirades and your smiles and your teases.”
She gulped, speechless for the first time in her life.
He needs me?
His thumb stroked her cheek. “I was searching for you all along, Iris. You are the only constant I need.”
His eyes were full of something that looked a lot like love.
He needs me.
Like I need him.
She melted against him, and her lips found his. Strong, warm reassurance wrapped around her as he pressed her to him.
She hugged him fiercely, not wanting to let go. “I just want to live in this moment forever,” she sighed, her face buried in his neck. She huffed his cologne like it was her personal air supply. “I never want to leave the most perfect two weeks.”
“I mean, it wasn’t that perfect. There was a cult, Iris,” Sam said, and they both chuckled. “Plus, we still have one more fall activity to finish this afternoon before I have you again.”
She cocked her head, ticking through her mental list. “There’s nothing else to do.” She grabbed her planner on the bedside table, flipping through pages. “Pumpkin patch, done. S’mores, done.” Done, done, done.
He rolled off the bed and stood, holding out a hand. He was backlit by the setting sun, amber glints shining off his hair as he smiled down at her. How had her arch-nemesis turned into her dream come true?
She climbed off the bed, and he tugged her to the door. She stood, befuddled, as he wrapped a scarf around her. “I have it on good authority that you were looking forward to leaf angels, and you’ve been sorely lacking them.”
She gasped. “Oh my gosh, I was .” She hit his chest with astonishment. She’d completely forgotten about her personal fall bucket list in the chaos of the last two weeks.
“They’re much?—”
“Warmer than snow angels,” they said together.
“I asked the groundskeeper if he’d leave out the big piles for us.” He slid his shoes and coat on and held out her coat. “C’mon, time to fall in some leaves. But not until we finish thorough safety checks, of course.”
Oh she was falling, alright. But into something much deeper, and far more permanent than a pile of orange and red leaves.
He held her chin as he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips and pulled back with a wink.
As they walked outside in the crisp air, they planned out their next adventure. It would be full of teasing, full of passion, and full of something that felt a lot like true love at last.
Finally.
THE END