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“Brace yourself.”
“I’m braced.”
When I hear heavy footsteps scuffing on the dirt road away from the driver’s side, I reach over and twist the key in the ignition, my lights coming on automatically and—
“Oh myGod.”
Pretty big? Is that what he called himself?
This man is easily six-foot-six and built like an honest to God ancient gladiator.
One strap of his overalls is unhooked, the other one sagging down, leaving his rippling, hairy chest on display. I have belts at home that wouldn’t fit around his arms. His thighs are on the verge of ripping open those denim pant legs. But his face…
His face is kind. His eyes are patient.
He’s not handsome in a classic sense. His features are hard and weathered, yet he doesn’t appear to be that old. Maybe thirty?
Those eyes, though. Some deep-down intuition tells me he’s a pure soul.
“Well?” he shouts. “What do you think, Bianca?”
I turn off the engine and sit in the dark silence for a few seconds, my limbs shivering from the cold, my molars sealed together, skin like ice. Hoping like heck that I’m making the right decision, I pick up my phone and collect my car keys, then I open the passenger door and climb out, my spiky heels immediately sinking into the grassy earth.
“Okay, Dusty. Please don’t turn me into a missing poster.”
“I won’t. You have my word,” he chuckles, his steps coming closer in the darkness.
Dusty has almost reached me when the clouds part, allowing the moon to emerge once more. Light spills down from above and I watch as he sees me,reallysees me clearly for the first time, his heavy gait faltering, a hoarse sound falling from his mouth.
“Bianca,” he breathes, that mighty chest beginning to heave. “I had no idea.”
“No idea about what?”
“You’re beautiful,” he blurts. “Dear Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like you.”
“I should get back in the car.”
“No.” He plows ten fingers through his dark, close-cropped hair. “No, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I apologize. I just wasn’t expecting to witness a miracle tonight.” A lump moves up and down in his throat. “That’s what you are, Bianca. One of God’s miracles.”
Why am I having a hard time drawing breath? Men hit on me all the time and I don’t get this weird…flutter in my belly. Why is this farmer making me feel all gooey? “Okay, if I’m going to come stay the night in your house, you can’t say things like that.” I cross my arms. “And let’s get one thing straight? I’m not sleeping in your bed. This isn’t a slasher filmora porno.”
“Ah Jesus, of course not. I’m not stupid. I know I don’t have a chance with you.”
My chest feels funny. “Well…good. I’m glad that’s cleared up.”
“I’ve got eyes, Bianca. It was never unclear.”
My arms uncross and drop to my sides. “You’re being a little hard on yourself now, don’t you think? There are plenty of women who would love a big, strong farmer. I’m just not in the market for one right now, that’s all. I’ve got plans to execute before I start worrying about men…and all that stuff. You know?”
He grunts. Roughly.
I study my fingernails, pretending I don’t feel his gaze on my thighs. Maybe I should admonish him for checking me out so blatantly, but this skirt is skintight and short as all get out. Who can blame really the man? He lives with a chicken in the middle of nowhere, for goodness sakes. He probably doesn’t encounter too many women in these remote parts.
When I shiver, he makes a sound of denial and comes closer. One step, two. “You won’t be able to walk through the field in those shoes.”
I nod, because he’s right. I can barely stand on the road in them. “Should I go barefoot?”
“No, if you stepped on something sharp and hurt yourself on my land, I’d be…very upset.” He raises the pitchfork and buries the metal teeth in the ground. “I’ll carry you home.”
