Pumpkin King Page 7

  “Here? On Big Daddy?” she asks, breathless.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jane

  Henry’s easygoing nature vanishes when he’s horny as hell. He’s a beast. And I love it.

  His kisses are hard, his strong body pulls me in so tight I lose my breath, and his voice drops an octave, complete with monosyllabic answers.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  His rough kisses are so delicious I don’t want them to ever stop. But I have so many questions. “Won’t we break it?”

  “He can take it,” Henry grits out, fumbling with the button and zipper of my jeans. “Pants. Off.”

  I don’t even think about it. I need this. The fact that this is happening outside—a thing I’ve never done before—somehow makes me even more aroused.

  While I’m clumsily removing my jeans, Henry hastily pulls out a condom from his wallet, then unbuckles his belt and his jeans. When the breeze hits my bare legs, I shiver in excitement.

  Jeans and undies cast to the ground, Henry pulls off his shirt and spreads it out on top of Big Daddy. Always polite, even in his moments of passion. I think I need to marry him tomorrow.

  My body lights up in anticipation when he attacks me with his mouth again.

  I need more. More of everything, more skin against skin. He reads my mind and helps me off with my shirt.

  “I need it now, sweetheart,” he says.

  I nod my head and open my legs to him. With my ass seated on Big Daddy, I wrap my legs around Henry’s hips as he guides the tip in.

  He’s hesitating for my comfort, but I don’t need him to.

  “More,” I whisper.

  He pushes in, stretches me out, and my muscles grab onto his shaft. “Holy fuck,” he says. “So fucking tight. Oh my god.”

  I need him to keep kissing me and he senses the need before I can even get the words out. He angles his mouth over mine in a searing gesture of ownership that sends me out of my mind. His tongue plunges down the back of my throat as he buries his cock inside of me. We’re smashing together on top of a fucking pumpkin, but my brain barely registers this fact anymore. His rough hands grip me, guiding our hips together as he gives one hard thrust.

  “Yes, oh my god,” I breathe.

  “Take that dick,” he growls.

  “All of it,” I whisper.

  I’ve never fucked outdoors before. It feels insane but also perfect and primal. He’s thrusting so hard and so good, I’m barely thinking about the fact that we could break this pumpkin and end up in a huge mess. It’s so wild and free and lovely.

  “This is nuts,” I say.

  He thrusts in hard again; I yelp and mewl like a cat. “Don’t you have faith in the hardness of my pumpkin? Don’t you think I know what I’m doing, woman?”

  My voice squeaks in delicious submission to his commanding tone. “Baby, I have faith in the hardness of all of your gourds.”

  “Shit!” he yells, pushing in harder, faster, my hips echoing the motion and my inner walls clamping and squeezing and barely letting him slide back out.

  “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight, I’m barely able to pull out.”

  Licking my lips, I tell him, “Then make me squirt with your mouth.”

  He laughs, his hot breath against my ear. He gives one mighty thrust and my body takes it, but he holds still and says in my ear, just above a whisper, “This pussy is mine. I fucking own it. I’m the only one who’s ever going to make you come ever again, do you hear me?”

  Everything lets go and it just happens. As I squirt, I cry out, “That’s right. Right there.” I bear down again, milking him as he slides out.

  “Fuck, that pussy is a work of art.”

  I continue to urge him onward. We’re as close as two people can be but I need him closer, both physically and emotionally. I want us to come together, and he’s closer than I am. I reach down to touch my clit. He sees me reaching and rumbles against my chest, “Hands on me, baby. That’s my clit.”

  I gasp, but I do as he says.

  “Hold on to that fucking pumpkin.”

  I nod and reach reassert my grip on the firm flesh of the giant squash. While he holds my hips with one arm, he reaches down to rub my clit with the pad of his thumb, all the while still nailing me on top of this goddamn 600-pound pumpkin.

  I was so close already that I can’t hold back for him. With his tongue halfway down my throat, he swipes his thumb over my clit and my release barrels through me like thunder. I have to break the kiss to let it all out. I cry out his name. “Fuck, Henry! Yes!”

  When I say his name, he roars out his orgasm with one massive thrust.

  The next thing I know, we’re tumbling to the ground, me on top of him, both of us panting and yelping, shocked at the shattering climaxes we just experienced and at the fact that we’re on the ground.

  He goes from animal Henry to tender Henry in two seconds. “Are you OK? Are you hurt?” He’s picking leaves out of my hair and running his hands on my sides, his eyes checking me over.

  “Henry,” I rasp, laughing. “Thank you. I needed that so much. I’ve never been better.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Henry

  I would have thought that a rousing session of first-time fucking would sap our energy. But after Jane and I do it, the result is the opposite.

  Jane and I spend the rest of the day creating signs, building a corn kernel pit for kids to play in, arranging the gift shop to look more appealing, and she even plots out a game for kids involving the corn maze.

  We complete it all in a few hours and then we break for lunch. I insist on going up to the house to make us biscuits and gravy with a side of corn on the cob.

  “This is the most carbalicious lunch ever and I’m here for it,” she says, loading up her plate at the stove. “My boyfriend is an amazing cook.”

  “I’m the whole package,” I say.

  Jane slaps me on the ass as she walks past me carrying her plate to the kitchen table.

  Chatting, joking, eating together—I let the feeling of having her here in my kitchen wash over me.

  But I know the serious talk is just beginning.

  “I have to tell you some things about my past. Well, about my uncle’s past.”

  She places her hand on my forearm. “I have something to tell you. My nosy neighbor told me about your uncle. And I want you to know whatever it was that happened, you can rest assured it’s not going to change anything about the way I feel about you.”

  I tell her the whole story. About the rainforest museum scheme, about how Uncle Howie took all the town’s money to the casino boats, hoping to make up the difference between what the townspeople had invested and what the project demanded. Instead, the opposite happened. He lost it all and never came clean about it. I only figured it all out after he died.

  Jane doesn’t even blink. It’s like she’s used to stories like this one.

  I continue, “I don’t have their money; I told them all I don’t have the responsibility to pay them back and I’m not going to. I don’t want those investors to get their hopes up. But deep down, I wish they could get their money back.”

  Jane sits up straight and speaks with authority. “I’m very familiar with how this kind of thing works, and I’m only going to say this once: Stop it. You did nothing wrong. You aren’t personally responsible for his debts if his estate didn’t cover them. It sucks for those investors, and I feel for them, but trust me, you did nothing wrong.”

  I chew on my biscuit and marvel at the beautiful human being sitting across the table from me. “Thank you,” I say. “I wish there was a way to pay them back. They’re good people.”

  Jane nods. “I would expect you to feel that way. The best thing you can do is take care of your own business. People want to go to a corn maze. They want to pick pumpkins. They don’t want to have to drive to the next county for it. You’re hardly in this thing to make money. You’re going to help people make memories and that’s way better than money.”


  I laugh. “Let’s not get carried away. Memories don’t put money in the bank.”

  “Maybe not, but I have a feeling money doesn’t matter that much to you beyond what it takes to secure your own comfort,” she says.

  I sit back in my chair and sip my iced tea, eyeing her over the glass. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” She blinks at me.

  “See me.”

  She smiles and says, “Because you showed me who you are. Seeing someone is easy when you have love in your heart.”

  I sit forward and say, “Don’t say any more. Don’t beat me to the punch, OK? Save the rest for Saturday night. Now go on home and spend some time with Sarah. I got stuff to do.”

  Jane looks perplexed. “But there’s more to do. At least let me help you clean up the dishes.”

  I shake my head no. “I have a little surprise I want to work on,” he says.

  “Oh,” she replies, looking a little sad.

  I wrap her up in a hug after she clears the table. “You’re going to like the surprise. Go home, get some rest, and I’ll call you later tonight, OK? I want you to go enjoy the rest of your day with Sarah.”

  She only agrees to leave after a little more making out. In the kitchen. On the porch. Against her car. I’m happy to oblige, but I have to summon all my strength to send her away.

  First, I need to go sanitize Big Daddy. The statewide pumpkin judge will be here tomorrow.

  Then, it’s time to get started on my surprise.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jane

  When I arrive at work the next morning, I can hardly believe my eyes. What I see improves my mood tenfold after a barrage of harassing texts from Carl all night long. He says he knows where we are, and he’s coming to take us back.

  I decide to take Henry up on the offer to bring Sarah with me to the pumpkin patch today, just to be on the safe side. I can’t have Carl showing up at Rocket’s trailer and causing a scene.

  The sooner I can get a spot at a real childcare center, the better. Not only will it be safer for Sarah because of the security protocols at those places, but it’ll also be a hell of a lot safer for Carl. Between Jet and Henry, Carl has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

  Sarah squeals when she sees the pumpkin patch. Henry has installed a small playground that’s been painted Sarah’s and my favorite colors: purple and green.

  There’s a sign that says, “Sarah Jane’s Pumpkin Patch.”

  I kiss him harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone. Even harder than yesterday.

  “You were right. The playground and picnic area was a great idea and I should have thought about it before. Now let’s just hope people show up.”

  “They will,” I say.

  I’m super proud of Henry.

  Opening day is slow at first, which gives us time to play with Sarah and talk about the future.

  “I still have a lot of high finance connections. They’ve been texting me to come back. But I have a better idea. I want to use their money to start a business incubator here.”

  Henry looks puzzled as he pushes Sarah on the baby swing. “I would love to help, but I don’t know how to build an incubator. I have a friend who raises baby chicks to sell at the feed store, and she uses a little heat lamp incubator thing…”

  I smile. “I’m sorry, I meant a business incubator, one that gets grants, up-front investments, and includes a workspace for small businesses started by people who can’t afford to pay rent to commercial building owners or can’t even afford a computer and a printer. We give them a little seed money. When they grow and branch out, such as break ground on a brick and mortar building, the loan is forgiven if they stay in town for five years or longer.”

  Henry’s wheels are turning. “That’s cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, that’s amazing. What a fantastic idea. You should do that. What are you doing here? You should go and do it right now.”

  I laugh. “Henry, people are coming.”

  “No. Go up to the house and use my computer to write out your business plan. I’ll watch Sarah.”

  I laugh, but he’s dead serious.

  I chew on my lip for a minute. Sarah looks happy. Henry looks content.

  I’ve never taken any time while I’m wide awake to sit down and write all this down. I should do it while I have the chance.

  “OK,” I say. “But please call or text if you need me. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Henry

  Sarah is a great helper. She’s getting steadier on her feet by the day, and she’s good at helping people pick out pumpkins.

  “Helping!” she says.

  With her as my assistant, I’m pretty sure I’m going to make bank today. Jane is going to win that bet; I had no idea, though, that she would fix the bet with her adorable pint-sized ringer.

  An hour passes quickly, and I think about checking on Jane, but Sarah and I have it handled.

  I spot the pumpkin judge before he spots me. The guy is hard to miss, wearing a blazer, a tie, and loafers to a pumpkin patch. A little weird, I think. But whatever. I’m ringing up a family with twelve pumpkins and it’s taking a minute, so he’ll have to wait.

  While I’m ringing up the order, I see Sarah toddle over to the guy, arm outstretched. It’s a move she does when she wants someone to take her hand and follow her. She’s a bossy little thing and I’m going to give her a raise. I’ll be putting a commission into her college fund with every pumpkin she sells, whether Jane wants to let me or not.

  Then something strange happens. A look of recognition on the man’s face gives me pause. The two of them walk hand in hand through the gift shop and pass by me a few feet away, and he speaks. “Sarah?”

  Wait a minute. How does the pumpkin judge know her name? All of my inner alarm bells are going off. He knows her name, and I recognize that voice. Jane’s voicemails. Carl!

  I excuse myself and follow them to where they’re headed to the pumpkin display. As I approach, I hear him talking to her. “No, no, Sarah, I don’t need a pumpkin. I came here to pick you up and take you home. Mommy sent me.”

  I see red. All that’s going to be left of him when I’m done with him is that stupid blazer.

  Carl bends over to pick her up and my head explodes. I’ve never gotten into fisticuffs with anyone before—I’m not an easily triggered guy—but now someone is messing with my family, and I no longer recognize myself. My legs move on their own to eat up the distance between Sarah and me.

  That’s right. That’s my family right there. Jane and Sarah. They’re mine, and they don’t belong with him or with anybody else.

  Despite all the rage suffusing my body, I gently, calmly, snatch Sarah up in my arms and keep my tone friendly.

  “Oops, sorry about that, sir. She’s so outgoing, we have to watch her at all times.” Turning to Sarah, I smile and say, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She giggles and points at the man, who I am now one hundred percent certain is Carl.

  “Who are you and what are you doing with my daughter?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to speak, but Sarah hugs my neck. “Daddy,” she says. My blood calms. Of course, I’m not going to kick anyone’s ass, especially not here in front of a child, in front of customers.

  “Oh,” I say. “You must be Carl. Can I help you with something?”

  “You can help me by giving me my daughter.”

  Keep calm, Hank. This guy isn’t going to touch her without Jane’s consent.

  Sarah buries her head in my neck. Yeah, I’m not a fan of this guy’s tone either, kid.

  “I’m going to have to speak to Jane first. See, Sarah is in my care while Jane’s working, so if you’ll excuse me, Sarah and I need to finish ringing up an order. Come on, sweetie.”

  We leave Carl to stew while I take my time ringing up customers, handing out corn maze maps to anyone who wants one, and several other tasks th
at need doing.

  It’s not until I see Rocket, Jet, and Jane outside—with Jane frozen in her tracks like a deer in headlights—that I realize I should have texted her to warn her that Carl was here. She and Carl stare each other down, and I nearly sprint over the Jane with Sarah in my arms.

  “Mommy!” Sarah dives from me to Jane and I begin apologizing. “I’m sorry, babe. I should have warned you, but we’ve been so busy. Turns out you were right about the weird colored pumpkins. We sold all the arrangements you made. You won the bet. Why don’t you and Sarah go back up to the house and take a nap while I take out the trash?”

  Jane looks from Carl to me, and—unexpectedly—she smiles. “It’s OK. I got this.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jane

  To my extreme relief, Rocket and Jet are also here. They met me at the house just as I was finishing up my business plan, and they were excited to hear about it as we walked together down to the pumpkin patch.

  I hand Sarah off to Rocket. “I don’t want her to witness any of this, even if she’s too young to understand the words.”

  Rocket nods, understanding completely. Jet, who no doubt has heard all the stories of Carl’s intimidation from Rocket, looks like he’s ready to put Carl into the ground. Rocket slides an arm through his. “Come on, let’s go play before somebody gets hurt.”

  He grudgingly does as she says. I’m grateful; that’s all I need is a shouting match and a fistfight at Henry’s grand opening.

  “What do you want, Carl?”

  He’d said in his voicemails that he knew where I was and that he was coming. I’ve been prepared for this. I’m done running away. It’s time to fix things for good.