by Amelia Jade
“Any more fairy tales to tell me?” she asked, starting to walk again without waiting for him.
Palin caught up to her easily. “It’s the truth. I told you I would never lie to you, Sandy. I don’t intend to now. There’s something…different about you that I can’t quite figure out.”
“There’s a lot different about me.”
“Maybe. I hope so. But that’s why I’m here.”
“Uh-huh. Let me tell you why you’re here. You’re here because I’m an idiot who decided to tell you where I live, so that you could come and help me work my land. So, I’ll stick to being an idiot, and you stick to being hired help. No dragons, no making friends with my dog, and we’ll call it a deal. Okay?”
Palin shrugged her cold tone off as if it didn’t register. “Sure. I can do that.”
“Thank you.” She pointed just off to her right, where the land turned from plain mud to mud with greenery in it. They had reached the northern crop field. “We’ll start over there.”
She led the way, conscious of the pair of concern-filled eyes staring at her back. Palin wanted to know why she was so standoffish.
Well, he could keep wondering.
Chapter Nine
Palin
Sitting on the top step of the porch, he pulled off his boots.
“You’re sure?”
Sandy nodded and gestured for him to follow her. “Yeah. It’s normal. I’d rather have your smelly feet sticking up the place than track mud everywhere.”
He pouted. “My feet don’t stink.”
“We’ll see. Come on, let’s go inside.”
Palin didn’t move. “Pardon?”
“I’m hungry, and it’s chilly out. I don’t want to eat outside today, so come inside.”
“Right.” Acting like this was a completely normal thing to do, he followed her inside. She even held the door for him.
This was his third day of working for Sandy, and while it had been rather physical and demanding, he also found it rewarding. There was a certain sense of pride in seeing everything come together while you worked on it. He was beginning to understand why she was so invested in her work.
What he couldn’t figure out was what the hell had changed besides the weather to prompt such a turnaround in Sandy. The first two days she’d been distant. Cold. Rarely answering questions or talking. Never outright rude, but clearly shut off, unwilling to engage with him.
This morning when he’d shown up she’d said hello and asked how he was. That was his first clue that something was up. He’d brought a lunch his first day, not sure what to expect, but Sandy had insisted that she feed him. Apparently he was working even harder than she’d expected. That was fine with him; it wasn’t nearly as hard as he could handle, but Palin felt it best to keep his supernatural strength to himself for now. She hadn’t handled his first mention of being a dragon very well.
She’d fed him outside, however. Both for lunches and supper, a meal he’d never expected to stay for. Apparently Sandy kept longer working hours than anyone else he knew, but the dragon shifter was thankful for every morsel. Today he’d been prepared to sit outside and wait for her to bring him food again.
Yet here he was, not only being invited in, but ordered inside. Into her house. A place he’d barely even gotten a peek of. Something was going on.
“You don’t have that shotgun rigged up or something do you?” he asked nervously, ducking his head as he entered.
“Of course not. Though a bucket of glue and some feathers might be hilarious. Thanks for the idea.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Sandy just smiled at him.
What the hell was going on? Where was this niceness coming from? Palin wanted to ask her. He almost did, but she turned away swiftly and headed into the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, standing at the kitchen table, keeping it between the two of them.
“No, not really.”
He started to press, but she kept speaking after a pause. Palin pressed his lips together, eager to encourage her newfound loquaciousness. He’d talked to her more today than quite possibly the past two days combined, and it seemed she wanted to talk more.
“You’ve already helped me accomplish more in two and a half days than I would have in a week and a half.” She shook her head. “I expected to double my efficiency, but with you I’m closer to tripling it, maybe even a tad more. Why, if I had a few more beefcakes like you, I could really make a go at this!”
Sandy fell silent, her face going red as she realized what she’d said.
Basking in the shade of her compliment, Palin let her suffer for a few long moments more. Then he took pity on her. “Is that why you’re in a good mood today? Because of the progress we’re making?”
He liked being able to say that. To state that they were doing something. Not him. Not her. But together. A singular unit. He wanted more, but first he was going to have to discover her secrets. What was it that kept her from trusting him more, from fearing the idea of him being in her home?
“Yeah.” There was a return of some of the old gruffness to her voice, and Palin wondered if she hadn’t been aware of the change in herself. Had he just screwed things up by bringing attention to it?
“I’m glad you’re letting me help.”
Sandy snorted, the sound echoing as she rifled through refrigerator at the same time. “Letting you help? That sounds like some revisionist history to me! We both know you forced your way into helping.” She pointedly did not address the reason he’d given her for his actions.
It was going to take a while before Sandy was ready to believe in dragons. That was fine; it just meant more time to spend with his mate. Palin still couldn’t quite bring himself to accept that. Sandy was a human after all, and he knew that humans and dragons didn’t mate. They couldn’t, despite what those silly “awakened” dragons tried to pretend. How could a human be worthy of a dragon like him? She must have the soul of a dragon, or dragon blood within her.
Perhaps she is the child of a dragon, but one who somehow never gained any of its powers. Palin knew it had to be something, and he was determined to find out. Never once did it occur to him that maybe, just maybe, Sandy was a normal human. To him there was always some explanation that led back to dragons. That’s the way it had to be.
“You could have said no at any time,” he pointed out. “I would have respected that.”
“Maybe. But you would have shown up to every farmers market and bothered me about it until I said yes.”
Palin grinned. “Maybe. I’ll never tell.”
“You just did.”
“Nonsense. You’re assuming something.”
Sandy paused in her food preparations just long enough to give him a look that said she was well aware he was full of shit. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight that streamed in through the numerous windows, though it lasted for but an instant before she turned back to the food in a hurry.
“Why don’t you have anyone helping you?” he asked, pulling back one of the chairs and easing his oversized “beefcake” frame into it. “You could easily find people in this day and age who would work for free now with the promise of money once the harvest comes in. You could—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. He fell silent, not so much because of her action, but because of the rather long and sharp-looking knife she was gripping in said hand.
“I don’t like people,” she said into the silence. “I don’t trust them.”
“So why are you trusting me?”
“I’m not.”
Palin scratched his head. “Yet you allowed me on your farm, and now you invited me into your house. That…kind of sounds like trust to me.”
“Well, it’s not. It’s manners, okay?”
“Okay.” That was a stretch, but he didn’t tell her that. Manners were acknowledging that he existed. Feeding him outside was plenty. Palin had had no expectations of being welcomed into her life
. He knew he was going to need to be patient to figure out just what was going on. That was okay with him.
“I like it out here. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”
He nodded. “Lonely.”
“That’s why I have Champ.”
The big dog perked up when she said his name. Probably hoping he’d get a few table scraps. Palin knew better than that, however, having nearly had his head chewed off for giving the poor-looking pup—it had been an act, he was told—a few bits of his lunch the first day. Sandy had him on pure dog food, and she was strict about it. Apparently the tough mutt had a weak stomach.
“Come ‘ere, boy,” he muttered. Champ heaved himself to his feet and padded over to Palin, wagging his tail enthusiastically as he threw himself into Palin’s leg and slid to the ground. Leaning over, he scratched behind his ears, much to Champ’s obvious delight. “He is an amazing dog, I’ll give you that.”
“Why my crops?”
He pondered the question before answering. The truth wasn’t going to be accepted, not yet. Instead he would have to say something that would be both funny, truthful, and yet completely different than what he’d said. For many that would have been tough. For Palin, it was nothing. He had this in the bag.
“I guess there’s just something special about your, um, crops. Us beefcakes, we just can’t get enough of your, uh, veggies.”
Sandy bowed her head, moaning while she was busy trying not to die of shame, he was sure. That comment was going to haunt her for a while. But he wasn’t done yet.”
“Which brings me to my next question.”
“Go ahead,” she said nervously, chewing on some celery that was seemingly a part of whatever meal she was coming up with.
“Do you need me to plow your field later?”
The celery flew from her mouth, hit him in the forehead, and bounced to the floor. Champ lunged at it, snatching it up into his mouth where he chewed at it merrily.
The only sound in the stunned room was his tail as it went back and forth.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Chapter Ten
Sandy
A lot had changed in a week’s time.
She surveyed the fields, hands on her hips, nodding absentmindedly to herself. Yes, a lot had changed. Her fields were in better shape than they had been in ages. Not only that, but she’d gotten so ahead of things that they’d ended up harvesting some crops this week instead of next. The earlier the better at this time of year.
“How are things looking?” Palin clomped up next to her, his mud-covered boots making a tremendous racket on the wooden porch.
Yes, a lot had changed. Palin was a new addition to her…life? She supposed that’s how it would have to be described. After the second day she’d been forced to admit that they formed a pretty good team. Spurred on by having someone else to work alongside, even Sandy’s production had gone up a considerable amount.
It was nothing compared to what Palin had done, however, his muscles lending themselves to farming just as well as they did admiration. Much as it pained her to admit. With his help Sandy was going to get way more than she needed to be able to pay all her bills.
Why, come spring I could probably have some extra in the account even. Wouldn’t that be a welcome surprise?
She sobered quickly though. It was unlikely Palin would still be around in the spring. Sandy had to keep telling herself that, otherwise it seemed likely she was going to end up making some terrible planning decisions that she would never be able to keep up with.
“Things are looking good.”
“Good.” He headed back toward the front after waiting a brief moment.
Sandy exhaled once he was back around the corner. It was so hard keeping herself together with him around, maintaining a strict employer-employee relationship. Every day his easygoing smile set her at ease, something she simply couldn’t afford. Not if she was going to keep things professional between the two of them.
Professional. Which is exactly what you’re doing whenever you check him out. You’ve been busted doing it several times now. He knows you think he’s cute.
Of course he did. She’d accidentally called him a beefcake out loud. To his face. Sandy wanted to die of shame all over again as she remembered that, and his followup comments about her crops and her field. The sexual aspect of it all had not been lost on her. She wasn’t oblivious. She’d ignored the question and proceeded to slide to the side, so that he could have a wonderful view as her razor-sharp knife slid through the meat on the counter.
The metaphor hadn’t been lost on Palin.
It hadn’t stopped him from flirting with her, sometimes obnoxiously. He was making his interest in her heard, felt, and understood. So far he hadn’t crossed any boundaries, and his confusing moral code was so strict she doubted he would hug her without explicit permission. Which he didn’t have, and would never have.
Never?
That was a harsh sentence. Although Sandy hadn’t caved to any of his more suggestive comments, either ignoring them or making pointed references with sharp objects, she had caught herself becoming more relaxed and casual with him in everyday conversation. It was rude to ignore him completely when they worked in such close contact with each other. That’s what she’d told herself at least. There was definitely a sense of camaraderie between them now, though she did her best to keep it platonic and completely neutral.
Mostly she did that because Sandy had exactly zero idea what his end game was. What plans did he have, besides that ridiculous nonsense about being a dragon? Men, they came up with the strangest answers and excuses to things. At least Sandy didn’t have to worry about him being solely into her for sex. If that were the case, she would have made him leave after day one and not come back.
Palin had stayed, though, and if anything he’d worked harder with each passing day. There was no way she was that attractive. Sandy had limits to how delusional she was willing to allow herself to be. No matter how large her breasts might be, or how much he loved her farmer’s tan, none of that was worth the five long, hard days of sweat-equity he’d put in to her farm. Not even close.
Maybe he thought her tractor was sexy.
She snorted to herself. The sun was dipping below the horizon now, signaling the end of the work day. Because of everything they’d gotten done she’d actually called it early. Not much, an hour at most, but it was a nice reward to give both her and Palin.
A nicer reward would be to engage him in some of his good-natured flirting.
It would. He was cute after all. More than cute. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Even the word handsome didn’t seem to incorporate just how hot he was. And those eyes. They looked at her sometimes as if she were just a piece of meat, and other times they burned with green flames that didn’t extinguish until she forcefully put them out. Even then they remained, dimmed but surly and unwilling to go away.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she wondered if it was the unusual late-fall heat or thoughts of Palin that had put it there. Probably a combination of both. Dropping her hands from her waist, she headed back around the front of the house.
“What are you doing?” she asked, stopping dead in her tracks.
“Cleaning.”
“Uh-huh.”
He was standing in the front yard, hosing himself down. On the porch railing near her was his shirt. Sandy gripped the wooden rail, trying to keep ahold of herself as beads of water trickled over muscles so hard she could feel them across the distance. Palin’s back was to her, and she bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. He reached up to switch hands, pouring water across him. As he moved his skin stretched and rippled, muscles on one side expanding while the others contracted.
Without warning he rolled his shoulders. Sandy groaned at the sight, thankful for the splash of water to cover up any noise she made. Gripping the wood until her knuckles turned white, Sandy fought back the chemicals and hormones running rampant through her system. They rampaged and marauded through her brain, bringi
ng to life thoughts that she shouldn’t be having.
Such as wishing it were a different type of wood in her hands.
Or that maybe he’d spray her with water, forcing her to take her shirt off in front of him.
Perhaps he’d straighten without realizing what he was doing and soak his pants. They would take ages to try on the line, and wouldn’t that just be a shame.
He started to turn around and Sandy hurriedly pulled her flannel shirt closed. Her nipples were showing through easily, she could feel it. They always betrayed her like that. If she’d been wearing her denim overalls it wouldn’t have been an issue, but she’d decided not to wear them today, opting for regular jeans that fit a little tighter.
“That water isn’t cheap,” she called out as he rubbed a hand over his head.
Never before had she thought herself to be the type attracted to men who kept their head bare of any hair, but on Palin it just worked. She’d snuck a few glances. He wasn’t actually bald; he just never let it grow. It was intriguing, and the light-brown goatee just added to his aura of untouchable sexiness.
“I thought you were on well water?” he called back, taking a sip and washing his face down.
She knew he was stalling now, giving her a glimpse of what she “was missing” as he might put it. Keeping herself calm, and trying to tell her ovaries to do the same, she grabbed his shirt and tossed it at him. “Put that on. This isn’t a public changing room.”
Palin sighed, dropping the water so he didn’t soak his shirt. He bent over to kill the hose, and then stood up straight and bent backward, stretching at the waist. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his stomach as skin stretched taut over the chiseled muscles of his abs. He had to be hewn from stone, his body was so perfectly sculpted.
That was what made him so utterly imperfect. Everything just aligned. Most of the men she saw with six packs, the muscles were slightly off-centered on each other. Not Palin. His were equally lined up. She knew because she was staring at them right now as he toweled his skin off with the shirt. Taunting her. Teasing her.
