by Penny Wylder
“Good night,” I say, turning around and going up to my room.
I can't do this. I shouldn't do this.
If I allow myself to become undone by her swollen lips and sexy eyes, it's all over.
I need to control myself or this will never work.
6
Jenna
Knock knock knock.
Sluggishly lifting my head off the pillow, I look at the clock on the nightstand.
Five-thirty in the morning, ugh.
I let my face drop back against the pillow as I groan. Ryder isn't kidding about getting up early. I can barely keep my eyes open, my head is pounding, and all I want to do is crawl back deep under the covers.
I slept like shit.
I spent all night tossing and turning. My mind was running wild after that kiss. It came out of nowhere, taking me completely by surprise. It wasn't like any other kiss I've ever had. The way he grabbed me, the way his hands traveled over my body, I melted instantly for him.
He tasted like whiskey and desire. His tongue sweet, his lips rough with need. The strength of his touch made my stomach swarm with butterflies, and my entire body come alive like a wildfire that's out of control.
Even now, I can still feel his mouth against mine. The sensation is lingering there on my swollen and tender lips. Lifting my fingers to my mouth, I touch my lips, softly running the pads over the surface.
I can't believe he did that. Where the hell did that come from?
Between the kiss and Melody's outburst, I'm not sure what to think. All I know is that kiss turned what little sleep I had into dirty, heated dreams. Every time I dosed off, my mind kept going back to that moment.
Only in my head, he never stopped. Our kiss became an entangled explosion of tongues dancing, and our bodies rubbing together. His hands never stilled, continuing to glide and explore every inch of my body. The Ryder in my dream only pulled away to run his tongue down my neck and across my shoulder.
And then I'd wake up soaked in sweat and wet between my legs. The short bursts of erotic fantasy would rouse me awake every time. I couldn't have gotten more than an hour or two of sleep.
“Hey, wake up in there,” he says loudly, knocking on the door again. “The farm isn't going to run itself.”
“I'm up, I’m up. I'll be down in a couple minutes.” My voice is horse because my throat is dry as the desert.
“Ten minutes, that's all you get.”
“Or else what?” I ask, twisting my legs off the bed and sitting up reluctantly.
“Or I come back with a jug filled with ice water.”
I hear him walk away, his feet heavily moving down the stairs. Forcing myself to stand up, I go in the bathroom and wash my face. The warm water helps to clear the fog on my brain.
Throwing on the only other outfit I have, I pull my hair back into a ponytail, and head downstairs.
“Wow, seven minutes, that's pretty good,” Ryder says, keeping his back to me as he scrambles eggs in a pan.
“I said I only needed a few.”
He plates the eggs and turns around. I'm leaning against the doorway, my arms folded over my chest. Ryder looks me up and down in disbelief. “You're kidding me right?”
“What?” I ask as he sets the plates on the table. Standing up straight, my arms hang at my sides as I look down at myself. “What is it?”
“You're not really wearing that are you?”
Scanning my clothes, I let my eyes drift back up to his. “It's all I have with me. Working on your farm wasn't exactly part of my plan. I shouldn't even be here. I should be on a plane going home.”
“No one's stopping you.”
Cocking my head, my lips pull taut. “This is your idea remember?”
“I didn't forget. But just remember, no one is forcing you to stay. You agreed to this.” Ryder chuckles, looking me up and down again. “You might be the only girl who's ever ruined designer clothes by working on a farm.”
“I don't have another option. I definitely can't do it in heels and a skirt.”
“I wouldn't mind watching you try. It'd be interesting for sure.” Laughing, he shakes his head. “Hold on, I'll be right back.”
Ryder disappears upstairs. I'm in shock he hasn't said anything about the kiss yet. Not an apology, not an explanation, nothing. I thought it would be the first thing out of his mouth, but he's acting like it never even happened.
Maybe that's not a bad thing.
If he doesn't remember, then we can avoid the awkward explanation and any tension or apprehension after. Except I can't ignore the small sting in my chest that the kiss was something he could forget so easily. With every blink I see his face rushing to mine, and I feel his hands on my body.
I'm still having trouble controlling my breathing. My chest is heavy and tight as my heart speed up. Taking in slow breaths, I calm myself down. I can't lose it like this. I can't let this man steal my self control.
I'm here on business, simple as that.
“Here,” he says coming back with a small pile of clothes. “I can't do anything about your sneakers, my sister doesn’t have any, but here are some clothes you can borrow.”
“You don't think she'll mind me borrowing her clothes? I mean, she already hates me.”
“We can keep this secret between us, no reason to poke the bear. Besides, she's working most of the day at the hotel, she won't even know they're missing.”
Eating quickly, he taps the watch on his wrist. “We're already running behind. Go change and meet me out at the barn.”
I quickly change my clothes, and head outside, the screen door slamming shut behind me. There's a chill in the early morning air. Rubbing the outside of my arms, I head to the barn.
Ryder's inside scooping hay into a wheel barrel. “All right, let's get you to work. Grab the pitchfork over on the wall and come help me. If you remember what a pitchfork is.”
Rolling my eyes, I head right for it and grab it off the wall. “I think you're going to be surprised at how well I'm going to do today.”
“We'll see,” he says with a smirk.
We load up three barrels, pushing them into the horse stables. The horses are already out in the field, so the stalls are open. It stinks, literally. Covering my nose, I breathe in and out through my mouth.
“Yup, I remember this smell.”
“Good, because you're the one cleaning it out. I need you to clean out each stall and fill it with fresh hay. Can you do that?”
“All of them?” I ask.
“Yeah, all of them.”
“And what about you? What are you going to do?”
“It's a farm, Jenna. There's plenty to do. I'm going to fix the barn door, if you must know. It's loose and doesn’t close right.” He grabs a toolbox from against the wall, and walks backward to the doors. “You can handle this right? Or is this too much? You want to call it quits already?”
“No, I can do it.” Taking the shovel that's leaning against the wall, I start to scoop out the first stall. I'm not backing down from a single challenge he gives me. I want the opportunity to sell him on our offer, and I can't do that if I leave.
It takes me about three hours to clean all six stalls. Every so often I can feel Ryder watching me. But when I look up, his eyes are on the job he's doing. I caught him once, and he smiled lightly, then went right back to work.
Plucking rogue hay out of my hair, I wipe my hands on my pants. “Done. And it was easy. So, is it my turn? Can I pitch what we have to offer now?”
“Uh,” he says, “I said you have to work. We're not even close to being done. I've got a lot more for you to do.”
“All right. Go for it. Give me what you got. It can't be that bad.”
Ryder lists off task after task. And when I think I'm done, he's right there, ready to give me more. He has me gather the chicken eggs from the coop, feed the pigs, brush the horses, and give all the animals clean water.
As I'm scrubbing the gunk off the inside of the chicken coop,
it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm doing all the same tasks his dad had me do when I was a kid. Every single one. Ryder hasn't even had to give me any real instructions. It's like it's second nature to me. I already know what I'm doing without a second thought. It’s shocking how quickly it all comes back.
Running the back of my hand across my forehead, I spot Ryder as he's pushing a wheel barrel full of apples through the dirt lot. He stops, and I swear he knows I'm watching, but he doesn't look over to acknowledge me.
Setting down the wheel barrel, he wipes sweat off his head with a rag. And then he does exactly what I don't need him to do. He grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it over his head. His body glistens under the sun. He's hot and wet, and all his muscles ripple as he stretches his arms over his head.
It takes me a second to realize I'm not breathing. It's not until my lungs are burning that I finally draw in a huge gulp of air.
He's mesmerizing. A farm boy model that girls would go crazy for. He'd do great in New York. I know he'll never actually go, but the fashion side of me is drawn to his chiseled jaw and rock hard body. Then there's the rest of me, the feral side, the side that secretly wants this man to grab me and throw me against the barn.
I'm screwed.
Taking a few controlled breaths, I clear my head and walk over to him. “All right, I've finished everything you gave me to do.”
“No you didn't,” he says. “Now we need to wash these apples for the farmer's market this weekend.
We're standing at the outside wash basin, scrubbing apples and checking them over for any bruising. There's a quiet between us, but it doesn't feel awkward or weird. It feels natural, familiar, even flirty at times.
He splashes me with water, chuckling to himself. “Oops,” he says. “I missed the apple completely.”
Smirking, I flick water up at his face, and before I know it we're having a full blown water fight. I'm laughing and smiling, enjoying every second of this. I had always told my friends back in New York that life on the farm was gross, dirty, and I hated every second of it.
But right now I can't seem to remember why I said those things. I don’t have any bad memories of this place. The farm was always my escape. The only memory that really sucks is the day I left.
So why have I fought so hard to forget this part of my life? It's not making sense right now.
“Okay, okay, I think we're done here. How about we get lunch, and you can try to convince me why selling this place will be worth it for me.”
Finally. This is what I've been waiting for. If he listens, I think he'll see this as a no brainer. Ryder makes a few peanut butter sandwiches, and we sit a picnic table in the back.
“I’m ready,” he says, taking a bite of his food. “Show me what you got.” Wiggling his brows, he leans back and smiles big.
“Well, you know my step-father owns the other two lots on either side of this property.” Ryder nods in agreement. “So, I'm sure you can understand how hard it is to plan a build when there's something sitting right in the middle. If you let us buy this land, you'll never have to worry about money again. I can promise you that. He's willing to go big on this, and that's not easy for him to do.”
“Was that it?” he asks.
“Yeah. What more do you need?”
“That was good, but I'm not convinced. You'll have to do way better than that.” He stands from the table, clearing our plates. “But your time is up. Back to work we go.”
Nodding his head for me to follow him, I can't stop myself from just blurting out the one question that's bugging me. It's not about the farm, it's not about my pitch, it's about the elephant in the room.
“Why did you kiss me last night?”
Flicking his head over his shoulder, he cocks a brow confused, and then I see it hit him. The memory rolls down his face like a curtain. He stops moving, his body stills, and then as it quick as it came, it's gone.
Two trucks pull into the driveway, causing Ryder to straighten his back and stand taller. He doesn't answer me, he simply ignores the question altogether, and walks to the vehicles like I said nothing at all.
I'm left with a mess of questions and no answers.
He's down there for a few minutes, laughing and chatting with someone. I'm tired of standing alone, so I make my way down to him.
“Jenna, you remember Mark right?”
I eye him for a second, and it doesn't take long for me to recognize him. “Yeah. Hey, how have you been?”
It's strange. The longer I'm here, the easier it is for me to remember things. My memories are coming cack quicker and clearer.
“Good, I'm doing good.” Looking at Ryder, he asks, “How's that tractor running? Still kicking?”
Ryder smiles and nods. “Just like new. I've got another one that's sputtering a bit that I might need you to take a look at it soon.”
“Just give me a call and let me know when. I have a few other projects going on, but nothing I can't step away from for you.” Mark slaps the side of his truck and gives Ryder a look. “All right, you have your truck back, and I need to get going so I'm not late. It was good to see you again, Jenna.”
I nod and smile as he drives off. “You guys are still friends, huh?”
“Yup. Some people are still loyal to their roots.” He arches his brows at me, brushing his shoulder against mine as he turns and walks back up toward the barn. “Time to clean the pig pen,” he says.
Dragging my feet, I follow him back to work. I'm doubting myself now. Wondering why I ever agreed to this. He's not interested in selling, he's made that clear. But I'm not a girl who gives up easily.
Maybe this is a big mistake and I'm wasting my time. Why bother trying if I already have his answer? Because I won't give up that easily. That could be what he wants. To see me crash and burn.
There's no question in my mind that he's trying to break me. He wants me to run away screaming. I'm not going to do that. He's underestimating me, and that's a bad thing to do.
“All right, grab that shovel and start clearing all this slop,” he commands.
“I know what I'm doing,” I say, picking up the shovel and throwing it over my shoulder.
He holds up his hands, folding his lips down into a heavy frown. “Fine, I'll let you just do it. You know what you're doing.”
“I do. You act like I've never done any of this stuff. It makes me wonder who forgot about who.” Flaring my nostrils, I jam the tip of the shovel into the ground and attempt to slip it under the soiled layer of earth and hay.
The metal head doesn't move, instead it sticks like a dart in a dart board. Digging my toes into the mud, I push down on the handle, and give it a good hard shove.
Smack!
The ground beneath me is wet and slippery, causing my feet to slide out from underneath me so I face plant in the mud. Lifting my head, I push myself up onto my knees, and wipe the muck out of my eyes.
“Ha!” Ryder laughs loudly. His deep laugh echoes across the field as he drops forward and holds his stomach.
For a split second, my blood starts to boil and I'm ready to yell at him. But as he continues to laugh, I realize he's not laughing at me to be malicious or hurtful. He's laughing because it's honestly funny. His chuckle is full of innocent banter, not to be mean.
Suddenly, I'm laughing with him. I'm laughing so hard my stomach starts to hurt as I continue to wipe globs of mud off my face and throw them at him playfully.
Swatting and dodging away the mud snowballs, he comes to my side and reaches out his hand to help me up. “That was classic. I wish I had a hidden video camera. You'd go viral.”
Giggling, I hold out my arms and scrunch my face. “I smell like shit.”
“I think you smell like home.” He smirks, and winks as his fingers tighten around mine and he leads me to the back of the house.
His grip is strong, comforting, and makes my heart pound in my chest. He opens his hand, wriggling his fingers and securing them around mine tighter. My breath hitc
hes at the warmth and comfort I feel from my hand in his.
Bashfully, I look away. My cheeks flush and my stomach flutters like a swarm of locusts.
“Here,” he says, bringing me to an outdoor shower. “This will get rid of most of it.” He starts the water, adjusting it until it's warm.
Stepping under the water fully clothed, I scrub my face and hair. Glancing at Ryder, he's still smiling.
“Why are you still smiling?” I ask as I rub the mud off the front of my shirt and pants.
“Because I can actually see the real you. The big city didn't get to all of you. A small piece of the farm girl still exists.” His eyes steady on mine. “New York is only a high fashion gloss. You can't take the country out of the girl. I'm glad I didn't lose you after all.” His voice lowers, and he bites his bottom lip.
The way he says it does something to me. The richness of his voice ripples through my chest. I can feel his words all over me. It breaks me wide open, undoing the knotted box inside my soul.
Launching out of the water, I kiss him. My arms are around his neck, hands sweeping through his hair and latching on tight. Ryder accepts my kiss, opening his mouth to let my tongue in his mouth.
His lips are hungry. His tongue is thirsty. Our tongues collide, greedily licking and tasting, dancing around each other. Raking his thick fingers through my hair, he cups my face and kisses me deeper.
Walking me backwards, we stand under the hot stream of water. It's pouring down our faces, but it doesn't stop our kiss. His fingers slip under my shirt, and he kneads my breast. A soft moan vibrates under my lips. The rough pad of his thumb rubs circles over my nipple, the lace of my bra making it extra sensitive and bringing my nipple to a hard point. My hands grab at his ass, bringing him closer to me. We break away for a moment as he tears my shirt over my head, but our lips quickly find each other again.
His mouth works its way down my neck, licking after the stream of water dripping down my neck, leaving a delicious trail of heat that doesn’t just end where his mouth touches me, but shoots straight down between my legs, leaving me wet and pulsing with want. My hands fumble between us as I try to work open his belt buckle. I’m momentarily distracted by the hard bulge beneath his jeans. Is it my imagination or is it hot to the touch? My palm takes in his hard length, and his hips respond, rocking up into my hand, and I feel him getting harder. I finally open his belt buckle and slide his pants down just under his hips, my fingers grazing his bare ass. Just as his fingers venture past the waist band of my own pants, I freeze. Through labored breaths, I speak against lips. “This is a bad idea.”
