32. Harlan

32

HARLAN

I leaned against the counter and watched as Daphne stood at the stove and stirred the chili. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, revealing the sexy slope of her neck. Her Northwestern University Wildcats crop top was clearly one that had been washed and dried hundreds of times and was so thin that it gave the illusion of being see-through without actually revealing anything. Her gray sweats were rolled several times at the waist, and the cotton clung to her backside while being loose on her legs. There was nothing overtly sexy about what she was wearing, but on her, it was sexier than any Playboy centerfold.

I'd been attracted to plenty of women in my life, but what I felt for Daphne was something on an entirely different level. It was more like an addiction. A scratch that needed to be itched, but then every time I scratched it, the itch only intensified. I couldn't stay away from her.

The past three weeks had been difficult enough, but I'd known she was working. She was always with her crew, and they were shooting a television show. Now that I knew she was alone in her aunt's house and dealing with the stress of her aunt's health issues, keeping my distance had been impossible.

All day, I'd told myself to leave her alone. Not to bother her. To give her space. Yet, here I was, standing in her kitchen after practically inviting myself to dinner.

"Where are the bowls?" I figured I might as well make myself useful. And it wouldn't hurt to distract myself from the fact that all I wanted to do was pull down her sweats and bend her over the counter.

Unaware of my X-rated thoughts, Daphne twisted and pointed to the cupboard next to the fridge. The motion caused the hem of her shirt to rise, revealing about two inches of skin. I had to swallow a groan as my cock stirred behind its zippered cage. I grabbed the bowls and set them down next to the pot so Daphne could dish out our portions, while I filled two glasses with ice and tea. She then directed me to where the silverware was, and I finished setting the kitchen table. After pulling the cornbread out of the oven, we sat down in the nook.

I watched as Daphne took her first bite of Ray's famous chili. Her eyes closed as her expression morphed into pure bliss. I'd seen that look on her face. Several times. Her foodgasm and orgasm faces were identical, and my cock didn't know the difference, so it swelled.

"Oh my god, this is amazing," she moaned.

"Told you."

When she'd told me what had been dropped off, I said nothing beat Ray's chili. It was the best I'd ever tasted and had won several county and state fair ribbons. He rarely made it for social occasions, which meant she and Rhonda were special to him.

Her baby blue eyes opened, and she shook her head. "Ray could be the Colonel Sanders of chili. Has he ever thought about branding and distributing this?"

I loved that she was so business-minded. She saw potential in everything. I'd heard that she'd given Caroline Shaw advice about marketing for her salon Pretty in Peach, and that she'd talked to Mrs. B about her updating the website for the boarding house and provided tips on potential amenities she could implement to raise her room rate per night. She'd also given her input on logo redesigns for several of the businesses down at the pier, and come up with a booklet that included coupons for each establishment to give to tourists. She'd done all that in three weeks while she was working at her other job as on-air talent and a producer. She never stopped. I wondered if she'd always been like that, even as a child. If I had to put money on it, I'd bet she was.

"You had a lemonade stand growing up, didn't you?" I asked as I grabbed a piece of cornbread from the basket.

"Yeah, I did." Her head tilted to the side, and a crease appeared between her brows. "How did you know that?"

"You have a very entrepreneurial mind. Is that the only business you had when you were a kid?"

A wide smile spread on her face, and she dipped her chin, her gaze dropping to the bowl in front of her, and a blush spread on her cheeks.

"What?" I asked. Judging from her reaction, I was guessing whatever her other business was, it must have been embarrassing. "What was it?"

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and licked her lips. "Um, I had a few, actually."

"How many?"

Her tongue slid across her perfect lips as she licked them once more, then bit her lower lip between her teeth. It was clear she was nervous to reveal just how many businesses she'd had.

"How many?" I repeated the question encouragingly.

Her nose scrunched in the most adorable way. "I moved a lot."

"Okay."

"Remember, I told you, by the time I graduated when I was sixteen, I'd been to fourteen schools."

"Yeah." She had mentioned that the first night we hung out. It blew my mind then, and it still did. I was born in Firefly and grew up on the farm. I went to two schools before I graduated. Firefly Elementary, which at the time was K through eighth grade, and then Firefly High. Ours was the last class that graduated from eighth grade at the elementary school. The year I was a freshman, they opened Firefly Middle School, which was grades six through eighth.

I couldn't begin to fathom attending fourteen different schools and moving to fourteen different towns. It had been hard for me when I'd gone away to college and played in the minors and then the majors. But I'd always had the farm to come back to. Not only the farm, but also the community for support.

"I can't imagine how hard that must have been."

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug. "It was always easier if I had something other than being the new girl, which is why I think I had so many businesses."

I nodded. "So, how many did you have?"

"The lemonade stand was in kindergarten. Then on the first day of first grade, we had to write our names on sheets of paper and then tape them to the front of our desks. I knew how to write in cursive, so that's how I wrote my name. When the kids saw it, they asked me to write theirs. Since I knew I didn't have money for lunch, I saw an opportunity. I sold name sheets for five cents a pop, or ten if I added stickers or glitter.

"When I was in second grade, my parents had a Halloween party for their friends; no kids allowed, and they bought a bunch of candy that never got eaten. Not the crappy candy; I'm talking full-size Snickers, Baby Ruths, Almond Joys, Hershey's Bars, KitKats, I mean, the cream of the crop. We had a fridge in the basement that they put it all in and forgot about it, so every day, I'd bring a variety to school and sell them at lunch for a quarter.

"The summer before third grade, I came here, and Grammy Moore taught me how to sew. She sent me home with a sewing machine and a ton of scrap material, and I started making scrunchies. I sold those for fifty cents each to all the girls in third grade.

"In fourth grade, my mom got really into nail polish, but then my dad got mad because he didn't like the smell, and he threw them all away. I dug them out of the trash, and I took them to school and would paint girls' nails during recess." She took a deep breath. "It was just stuff like that. Not real businesses."

I stared at her as admiration filled me. "You really don't know how amazing you are, do you?"

"I'm not." She shook her head, dismissing the compliment.

"You are. I heard what you did for Caroline Shaw and Mrs. B, not to mention everyone on the pier. You have a real talent for seeing potential in businesses."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she lifted her left shoulder in a shrug. "I double majored in journalism and business and marketing."

"It shows."

Her big blue eyes met mine. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"It's just…well, I've been working on Moore Farm Moonshine today trying to streamline the business, and it sort of got my marketing juices flowing."

I ignored the direction my head went when she said the phrase ‘juices flowing' and cleared my throat, not sure where she was going with this. "Okay."

"I might have taken a look at your TikTok, well, Farm Strong's TikTok and Instagram."

"Okay." I still had no clue what she was going to ask.

"You have a strong following, and a few clips have gone viral, but it doesn't look like you're taking advantage of any of the opportunities or collabs of people and companies that have reached out. You don't even have contact information."

"What opportunities?"

She sat up a little straighter. "You do check your DMs, right?"

"No."

She closed her eyes and took a breath. "You have legitimate brands in your comments that have DM'd you for possible sponsorships, not to mention other creators for collabs and managers."

"I don't really check that stuff. I know Weston has posted some videos, and I've tried to post a few things here and there, but?—"

"Harlan," she cut me off, "you are leaving so much money on the table."

"I'm not an influencer. I don't know how to do all that social media stuff."

"You don't have to. That's why you hire someone who can. Let me put you in contact with a few managers. Just take a few Zoom meetings. You've built an incredible brand, which means you could have merchandise as well as products. Jessica Bass started with dance fitness videos on YouTube and now has an entire line of protein powders, vitamins, and supplements. Cassey Ho started putting up Pilates videos and now has a Blogilates empire with Pop Pilates certifications, a clothing line, and fitness gear." She took a breath. "But even if you don't want to take Farm Strong to that level, you could just do sponsorships and brand deals."

"You said I'm leaving a lot of money on the table. How much money are we talking?"

"Tens of thousands of dollars, maybe even a hundred thousand."

"A year?"

"No, a month."

"Really?"

"Yes, you have a huge following, and major brands of energy drinks and protein powders have reached out to you; you just haven't gotten back to them. Let me set up some meetings for you with a few managers who I know are above board."

"You don't have to do that. I know you have enough on your plate."

"No, I want to."

"Okay," I agreed, and a wide smile spread on her face. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you dating Kale Butler?" I'm not sure why I asked. I told myself that I wasn't going to, and that it was none of my business since we weren't a real couple. But for some reason, I needed to know.

Her eyes widened slightly. "How did you?—"

"Dawson sent me a link to the TMZ article."

"When?"

"Right after our date, actually."

"Our date at the gazebo?" she questioned.

"Yeah."

"But yesterday…you stayed at the hospital. All day."

"I did."

Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head. "Even though you thought I had a boyfriend and lied to you about it?"

"I wasn't going to leave you there alone."

She took in a shaky breath. "He's not…we're not together. We've been friends with benefits for a few years. Whenever he's in town, we hook up, but that's only a few times a year. The pictures that they posted were from nine months ago. I told him last night that I didn't want to see him anymore."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you tell him that you didn't want to see him anymore?"

"Um, because I don't like being used as a pawn in a Hollywood chess game. He leaked, or should I say his team, leaked those photos because the girl he was in a fake relationship with got into a real one and got engaged."

Her phone rang, and she went into the sunroom to take the call when she saw it was her boss. I cleared our plates and took them to the sink. As I rinsed them, I processed what she'd told me about Kale and about the possibility of getting a manager.

I didn't know what I was expecting when I came over tonight, but this hadn't been it. Daphne Moore was full of surprises. A month ago, as a control freak, I hated surprises. Now…they were growing on me.