Fed up with the farm life and his one-time love of training horses, John Wilson has traded histattered boots and jeans for power suits and cufflinks. Through hard work and determination, John has just graduated from law school and is focused on a fresh start. Refusing to let his bitter past hinder his future, John is intent on moving forward with his new life.
Except there’s one last thing he has to do—settle old debts before he can truly move on.
Unfortunately, settling debts involves him returning to a life he’s worked hard to forget. A mind-numbing summer working on a horse farm awaits him, and he’s dreading every damn minute of it.
Edie James is mourning the loss of her grandfather when John Wilson shows up in his perfectly tailored suit, reeking sexiness and city elegance—everything she’s not. Their meeting is less than pleasant as they both distastefully size up one another.
She thinks he’s arrogant and a white-collar yuppie.
He thinks she’s a simple, goody two-shoes farm girl.
Edie’s grandfather made a new will before he passed leaving stipulations in order for Edie to inherit the family farm. And as if that wasn’t enough of a challenge, the suit has to work on the farm with her for three months to settle a debt he owed to her grandfather.
And he’s moving in with her.
With a rocky start, the two seemingly polar opposites call a truce and attempt to be friends. As their unexpected friendship blooms, an attraction develops and both realize their first impression of each other is far from the truth. Now this once dreaded summer is set to be the hottest and most unforgettable they've ever had.
The suit clears his throat and sits back down. His demeanor seemed moderately friendly before, but now he seems like he doesn’t even want to look at me. “I’d like to get down to business if that’s okay, Ms. James. We haven’t got much time.” Ms. James? Has he called me that before?
I take the seat next to him as I pick up the tasty looking croissant. The more time I spend with him, the less I like him and he already started with a disadvantage, so as unfriendly as I might be, and believe me I’m committing a Southern faux pas here, I ask, “Might you share what it is we haven’t much time for, suit?”
His gaze meets mine and he arches a questioning brow. “Suit?”
“Yeah.” I shrug casually. Calling him suit is rude, by any fine Southerner’s standards, but I’m not in the mood to be particularly polite today. “You look like one of those guys who never takes it off. Like it’s a second skin.” I chuckle at my witty observation.
He leans back in his seat, his gaze never leaving mine. “Well, I’d say that’s a first impression and maybe one shouldn’t be so quick to judge based on a first impression. After all, your boyfriend spent most of the evening flirting with your friend at your table last night, but somehow ended up coming home with you. Wonder what kind of cute nickname I could conjure from that observation?” My mouth, full of croissant, drops open and heat washes over my face.
That, my friends…was a low blow.
Okay, so I happened to open the door practically naked when the suit showed up. And Dierk happened to interrupt us in the dining room practically naked, but that kind of stuff happens all the time. Right? How could anyone assume we hooked up? I’m not that kind of girl. I’d like to tell him who I am, I’m Edie James. Sweet as apple pie and granddaughter to Bud James. Where are my fellow townsmen praising my untarnished reputation when I need them? But something tells me that wouldn’t matter to him.
Instead, I say lacking eloquence, “That…we didn’t…it’s not…” What can I say? I’m a regular wordsmith over here.
“What was it you said to me before your boyfriend interrupted? Something about…people who assume?”
Okay, he’s good.
He’s got to be a lawyer or something. He totally just threw my words back in my face. My cheeks flame as I flounder for something clever to say. I’ve got nothing. So I roll out the best defense, “He’s not my boyfriend.” Until the words leave my mouth, it doesn’t occur to me that makes it sound like I just hooked up with some random guy.
“Even better.” The suit snorts and starts rifling through his papers again.
“I mean, we didn’t hook up. He’s a friend. He drove me home last night.” My worthless attempts at protecting the reputation of my virtue seem to fall on deaf ears.
“It’s none of my business, Ms. James,” he states simply as he closes his black leather briefcase. I want to defend myself more, but he’s right. It’s not any of his business. Who cares what he thinks? I sure don’t.
"All right, suit,” I reply snidely. If he wants to assume the worst about me, I’ll assume it about him as well. “Do tell me why you are gracing me with your presence.”