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“Damn girl. You look even better pregnant,” were his first words to me. Though they weren’t the last. In the comin’ months, he hid out on my farm with me, seein’ our baby come to be born.
It wasn’t what I expected, not even a little bit, but the Lord works in mysterious ways.
The Fugitive
Book Themes:
Barely Legal, Breeding, Bad Boy, and Love
Word Cou
nt:
26,647
* * *
Life is pretty slow in the countryside, not a whole lot changes. Which is why it was so easy to pick a newcomer like Asher out of the crowds at market.
Among all the usual farm folk, gathered to sell their wares, make trades and connect with neighbours and friends, that one big, muscly man, dressed in black leather and ridin’ atop a noisy motorcycle stood out for all to see.
Nobody even rode a motorcycle in all my years livin’ in the country, unless you count the time old man Murphy rode a moped he fixed up. But that didn’t even last long before he tumbled off into a ditch, and his wife made him swear never to go climbin’ on that busted up old thing again.
So, not exactly a comparison.
“Who’s that guy?” my cousin said to me, a tall, lanky fella who looked like he weighed no more’n me, despite the fact he was a heck of a lot taller. No matter how much hard farmwork he put in, he never could seem to shake that figure of his.
It took me a moment to snap out of my starin’ and day dreamin’, watchin’ the guy as he dismounted from his bike, tugged his zipper down and let the whole world see his chest, hugged by a tight grey tanktop underneath. The kind of top that clung to his every muscly bump.
“Looks like a fool,” my cousin said, his face contorted in annoyance. “Ridin’ a big ol’ noisy bike, like he can’t get enough attention to sustain ‘im.”
That’s my cousin, a bookworm if ever there was one, he never had much patience for flash or showin’ off.
But me?
I didn’t mind if a guy showed off a little bit. I preferred it, actually. Especially when he looked like that.
Marcus must’ve caught me staring again, because he was nudging my arm with his elbow.
“Earth to Shelby, hello?”
I tucked some of my hair behind my ear, still looking at Asher, not that I knew his name yet at that point. I wondered what his story was.
“I can hear you,” I said to my cousin, getting annoyed that he was intruding upon my quality fantasizing time. “Y’know, if you’re so concerned about people seekin’ attention, maybe you shouldn’t be jabbin’ me in the side tryin’ to get mine so hard.”
That little dig got to him, I could see. Marcus grimaced, screwing up his mouth and lookin’ at me all annoyed.
“We were in the middle of what’s called a conversation, Shelby,” he said, but my mind was back on that biker I didn’t yet know. Watchin’ him in those leathers, the big boots, stompin’ his way over to Mr. Fennel’s booth to talk to him about somethin’.
Mr. Fennel, though, looked like he shared more of Marcus’ opinion on the newcomer than my own, because he didn’t have a lot to say to the big, gruff man, even as he ran his fingers back through his thick, luxurious blonde hair. That caught my attention somethin’ fierce.
“I bet he’s just some thug from the big city, come to make a ruckus until the sheriff kicks ‘im out,” Marcus said, noticing my look. “What? That’s happened more’n a few times these past few years! You best watch out now, Shelby. Over there on that farm of yours now, with nobody but yer invalid mother.”
Yeah, my pa passed away years ago from a heart attack, and now my ma is wiltin’ away herself after a horrible accident. She ain’t any help to me, she can barely keep care of herself as I tend the farm.
“Maybe you could use a man around, y’know. To help out, and keep ya safe,” Marcus said, smiling lightly.
“Yea, that’s a good point,” I said, taking a step towards the stranger. That’d be a great opportunity, and a totally valid one. He looked like he could toss hay with the best of them.
