by Zoe York
He was even better looking without a shirt on than Jennifer would’ve guessed. He wasn’t a gym rat, with weirdly bulging muscles all over his body, but rather, long, sleek muscles that danced over his body like trails of pleasure that Jennifer would love to follow.
But shouldn’t. Totally, absolutely shouldn’t.
Her eyes snapped to the floor instead and she kept her gaze glued there as Stetson protested, “I figured you’d want a half-naked Stetson over a muddy one. These were the only clothes I could find in the laundry room.”
Carmelita harrumphed, and Jennifer bit back her laughter. She’d only been at the Miller Farm for three days, and she already knew that this was Carmelita’s way of admitting he was right, without actually saying it out loud. She might be sweet and loving, but she also had as much pride as her adopted son.
They were quite the pair, really.
“How did you become so dirty?” Carmelita asked, clearly wanting to change the topic back to the one she cared about. “You even have mud in your hair!”
Jennifer couldn’t help it – she had to look up again. Sure enough, there were streaks of mud on him where his careless swipes with a towel had missed, along with one large chunk on his chiseled cheekbone. Jennifer’s giggles returned at the housekeeper’s outraged tone of voice.
“He fell,” Jennifer managed to choke out through her laughter.
“Yeah, I fell and slid down the side of the road into the borrow pit,” he admitted with a wry grin. “My jeans, coat, and even my shirt are covered in mud. You should see the inside of my truck!” Which was when the craziness of the situation hit him as well, and he began to laugh, deep and rusty, as if he’d long ago forgotten how to.
At first, Jennifer had been horrified as she’d watched from the safety and oh-so-wonderful dryness of the truck cab as his feet had lost traction, and he’d slid down the side of the road on his ass, landing with a splash in the water running down the ditch.
But when he’d struggled to his feet and began trying to make his way back up the short incline, she’d begun to laugh. He’d been reduced to crawling on all fours up the rain-softened ditch bank that kept giving way under his weight. By the time he’d gotten back up on the road, he was completely covered in mud from head to toe, back and front. He’d looked like some bizarre mud monster from an eight-year-old boy’s dream.
“I am happy you did not cover my clean floor in mud,” Carmelita sniffed. “Now, go put some clothes on while I find something for Jennifer to wear while I wash her clothes.” Before she left, she turned back and caught Jennifer’s eye. She was smiling, her face glowing with warmth and happiness.
It suddenly struck Jenn that there had been little reason to laugh in the Miller household for a very long time. She wondered when it was that Carmelita had last seen Stetson laugh.
Probably years.
As the housekeeper’s footsteps faded away, Jennifer began twisting her hair, squeezing out a small stream of water onto the tile floor. She shouldn’t have jumped out of the cab – standing on the side of the road and watching Stetson climb the ditch bank hadn’t exactly helped him get up to the top any faster, and had only meant that in the end, she was as soaked as he was – but it’d been instinctual. Watching him struggle from the cab of the truck would’ve been cheating.
And really, after her hike through the rain back to the Miller farmhouse in the first place, she’d gotten plenty soaked on her own. Her second bath just sealed the deal.
Lifting her head, she froze. Stetson had crossed the room to stand in front of her – he was entirely too quiet for her sanity – and she realized with a stab of panic that they were alone. Her, him, and his very delicious chest. She had a hard time tearing her eyes away from his abs. She wanted to run her fingers up his chest and…
Her face grew red and she snapped her eyes up to his. She had to keep eye contact with him.
Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…
“We’ll get your car out tomorrow,” Stetson said in his low, gravelly voice that sent shivers down her spine. Or maybe it was the cold clothes and wet hair. It was hard to tell at this point. “I might have to use a tractor,” he continued, oblivious to her internal distress. Unlike her, he didn’t seem to be the least bit affected by their proximity. Or his half-naked state of being. “I don’t know what Carmelita is making for dinner, but I’m sure there’ll be enough for an army. You okay with staying here tonight?”
She couldn’t speak. Words were a thing, and they should totally be used, but she couldn’t remember how.
Her eyes locked on to his lips. They looked soft. She focused on the small wrinkles and the line of his upper lip that rose and fell. His mouth reminded her of the outline of the distant mountain range outside.
The chunk of mud on his cheek was driving her crazy. She wanted to reach up and pluck it off but she didn’t dare cross that line. Well, cross it again.
And spend the night under the same roof as this gorgeous man? Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She was pretty sure it was going to be a sleepless night of staring at the ceiling for her.
Finally, she managed to nod her head. She was quite proud of herself for being able to do that, really.
“Good. I’m gonna go take a shower – I’m sure I missed some mud somewhere. Carmelita won’t let me near the table like this,” he said and walked away, the W’s on the back pockets of his jeans bouncing up and down hypnotically as he went.
She could be the one to wash the mud from his hair and cheek. She could run her fingers through his hair and across his chiseled cheekbone…
I wonder how literal he was being when he said the jeans were the only clothing in the laundry room.
She felt her face warm in spite of the cold rainwater that still covered her.
Chapter 25
Stetson
Stetson pulled back the chair for Jennifer, and then sat down kitty-corner from her, the light from the elk horn chandelier overhead dancing in her dark locks. A platter of steaming steak strips, a plate of homemade tortillas, and all of the fixin’s were spread out in front of them. A batch of homemade salsa, just made yesterday, was sitting proudly between them. Carmelita had been sure to inform them of its freshness, before disappearing.
“Is she coming back?” Jennifer asked as he began to dish up the taco ingredients. She was looking around, as if expecting Carmelita to jump out from behind the china hutch or something. Stetson’s mouth quirked up at the corners at the idea.
“She usually eats dinner with me, but tonight, she said she had some errands to run.” Stetson was pretty damn sure the “errand” she had to run was, “Hide from Jennifer and Stetson so they could fall in love,” but he was not about to tell Jennifer that. Carmelita had never pulled this disappearing act when he’d brought Michelle home, that was for damn sure. There had been a few times when Carmelita had practically guarded the homestead, trying to run Michelle off before she even dared to come down the gravel driveway.
Stetson only hoped that Carma had packed up some of this spread to take back to her cottage, so she didn’t have to cook dinner twice tonight. That didn’t seem awfully fair, especially after how he’d treated her the last couple of days. He winced at the recollection.
“Are you okay?” Jennifer’s soft voice broke into his thoughts, and he jerked, sending her a smile before he even really registered her words.
“Oh yeah, just…thinking about what a long day this has been.” Which was about as close to the truth as he was willing to admit. Before Jennifer could bring everything up all over again and really rub in how wrong he’d been, he hurried on. “I’ve been meaning to ask you – you said that you quit the nursing profession because of Paul? Or was it Greg?”
“Paul. Greg is my boss at the bank.”
“Right. Because Paul cheated on you with other nurses.”
She bobbed her head as she took a bite of the taco, her eyes drifting shut as she made a sound of pure pleasure. The sound sent a
bolt of lust straight to Stetson’s dick, and he shifted in his chair, trying to remember how to breathe. And talk. They were talking. About something.
Her tongue darted out, snagging an errant piece of cilantro off her lip, and Stetson almost let out a groan of his own. She was going to be the death of him.
“Well, you…he…it’s just…”
Finally, her eyes opened and she looked over at him, her brow creased with confusion. “Yes?” she asked. She probably thought he was having a stroke.
A stroke caused by lust. Was that a thing? It totally seemed like it was a thing.
He shifted again in his suddenly uncomfortable chair. “Why switch professions?” he got out in a rush. He cleared his throat and continued on. “I understand not wanting to work with Paul anymore. But why not just go work for a different doctor’s office? Or hospital? Why become an accountant? It seems pretty drastic.” Of course, Stetson was born a farmer, raised a farmer, and someday, would die a farmer. The idea of letting someone else dictate which profession he worked in seemed…bizarre to him.
“Hmmm…” She licked her fingers on her right hand, cleaning off the juice from the tasty tacos. She was not helping with his sanity levels, that was for damn sure.
“You know, it’s funny because in retrospect, that’s such a good point. Honestly, I was pretty young, and was only a peon in the medical world. I was pulling 18-hour days and overnight shifts and wasn’t getting paid much, in comparison to the workload, but I’d had this idea that I just had to push through, Paul would become a doctor, and then I could afford to go to school to become an RN. That would have meant a significant pay increase for me. Instead, I’d worked my fingers to the bone, all to support a guy who actually thought I’d buy the excuse that he was teaching Lizzie ‘mouth to mouth resuscitation’ when I found them in bed together. Do I look that stupid to you?” She let out a snort of laughter that had Stetson grinning, despite the seriousness of the topic. He had a sudden urge to rearrange the guy’s face, and he hadn’t even met him.
For Paul’s sake, he had to hope he never would.
“Anyway, looking back on it…nursing was never my passion. I thought I’d grow to love it over time because I enjoy helping people, but blood and guts and poop? Not exactly the stuff dreams are made of.”
“Poop?” he repeated in disbelief.
“People shit themselves all the time,” Jennifer said with a shrug.
Stetson choked as he looked down at the remains of his taco on his plate. Brown and red, with bits of green…
“Probably not appropriate dinner conversation,” she said with a weak smile, which had Stetson busting up.
So much laughter. Did everyone laugh this much? Or did this only happen around Jennifer Kendall? Was she some sort of laughter fairy, sprinkling joy everywhere she went?
She can’t be trusted. She’s here to steal your farm away from you.
But for the first time, he absolutely knew that wasn’t true. Sitting here across the table from her, listening to her talk about shit and Paul and blood, there was something completely trustworthy about her. It rather terrified him, actually – to believe someone wholeheartedly, especially someone he’d thought only days before was nothing short of the devil incarnate. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t trust her. Shouldn’t believe her. Should hold her at arm’s length.
There were a lot of shoulda, coulda, woulda’s in the world, but this time, Stetson was willing to trust his gut.
At least for now.
Chapter 26
Jennifer
Jennifer stole a sideways glance at the stupidly handsome farmer to her left, wondering why she’d just told him all of that. He probably thought she deserved to get her heart broken by Paul. After all, she was the enemy, right?
But as his dimples flashed in the elk horn chandelier lighting – who decorates with elk horns?! – she realized that he truly did seem to have started to believe her. He wasn’t holding back. He wasn’t waiting for her to let her guard down so he could tear her to shreds.
He actually believed her.
She was in shock, to be honest. She wasn’t used to men believing her. That had started with Paul, of course, but Greg didn’t help matters, either. Believing her because she said so?
It was a heady feeling.
They stood up to begin clearing off the table, and Jennifer cast about for something to say. “I’ve been meaning to ask – why did you inherit the Miller Farm? I don’t know much about farms, but even I know that the oldest son usually inherits. Did your brothers just not want to farm? Do they do something else?”
Stetson scraped the bits and pieces off the plates and into the trash, then stacked the dishes neatly in the sink. Carmelita had him well trained.
“Nope, they both own farms of their own, actually. My dad helped with the financing for both of them, putting his name on their deeds and co-signing on their loans so Goldfork Credit Union would take them seriously.”
“They borrowed money from a different bank?!” Jennifer said with a pretended huff of indignation. Stetson opened up his mouth to apologize or defend the decision or something, but she shot him a huge grin. “I’m just kidding. I always wondered why you guys borrowed from Intermountain, considering the nearest branch is in Boise.”
Stetson snagged a beer out of the fridge – a dark, bitter-looking thing – and held one up for her. She shook her head. “Wine?” he asked, sticking his head back in the fridge. “I have a riesling in here somewhere.”
“Sure!” she said. “A glass of riesling would be nice.” She shouldn’t be drinking wine with a client, but she also shouldn’t be eating dinner with them or flirting with them or spending the night at their house, so she figured one more “shouldn’t” wouldn’t hurt her at this point.
He popped the cork on the bottle and filled a glass for her – a huge goblet, actually – and she took it hesitantly. If she drank all of this, she’d be slobbering drunk by the end of it.
She’d have to take it slow. Small sips. At least she wasn’t driving tonight, right?
“My grandfather had a dispute with Goldfork Credit Union back in the day,” Stetson said, jerking Jennifer back to their conversation she’d mostly forgotten they’d been having. Picking up his beer with his bandaged hand, he led the way to the living room. “He vowed to never bank there again. I do believe that the offending charge was a quarter.” He shot her a self-deprecating grin. “I like to think that I came by my stubbornness naturally.”
She let out a loud chuckle as they settled into a plush, welcoming couch. A brick fireplace with a thick wooden beam serving as the mantle was in front of them, but because it was July, Carmelita had put a decorative candle holder in the hearth instead of stacking up logs. Stetson caught her studying the intricate metalwork of the candle holder, and pushed himself off the couch. “I always mean to do this but never actually do. It’s nicer to look at than a TV any ol’ day of the week.” He pulled a lighter out of a vase on the mantle and set about lighting the candles. The flickering glow instantly added a warmth to the room…or maybe it was the wine. She always had been a lightweight.
For some reason, she took another sip of the wine, because in that moment, it totally seemed like a good idea.
“By the time my brothers were ready to borrow for their farms,” Stetson continued, settling back down on the couch next to her, “my grandfather had passed away and my brothers wanted to do business locally, instead of driving back and forth to Boise for every little thing. I just stuck with Intermountain because…well, I don’t know. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”
“So your brothers bought their own farms, and you inherited this one?”
Stetson rearranged the pillows behind him for a moment, fussing with their placement, his internal debate stamped clearly on his face. She wondered how much he’d eventually choose to tell her, and how much he’d hold back. “I can’t pretend my brothers were happy about this,” he said finally, staring into the flickering white globe ca
ndles. “They weren’t. It caused a lot of problems, actually. Wyatt – he’s the oldest – and I…we never got along. But after I inherited the farm, lock, stock, and barrel, things didn’t exactly become better between us.” He took a long sip of his beer. “If he knew you were here…if he knew what was going on with the bank payment…” He let out a bitter laugh. “You think I have a bad temper? You should meet Wyatt. He makes a jumping cactus look as welcoming as a cold beer on a hot day in comparison.”
“If you ever want to see the true strength of a family, just start discussing who inherits what after a death,” Jennifer said with a small grin. “Banking is pretty boring for the most part, but I once saw a fistfight break out between an uncle and niece over who got to keep the fully restored two-door 1966 Chevy Nova.”
“Niece?” Stetson repeated with a startled laugh.
“Yup. And she had a pretty good right hook, actually. Laid her uncle out in the foyer of the bank. I was just glad that I was calling the police to report a fight, not a bank robbery.”
“I think you’re taking that ‘Be grateful for everything’ mantra a little too far,” Stetson said dryly.
Jennifer shrugged. “It’s not hard to be an optimist when life generally goes my way.”
“You mean, when your boyfriend uses you for years to pay for his schooling, and then cheats on you once he’s actually made it as a doctor? That kind of good luck?”
“I didn’t say everything in my life goes my way,” she protested, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. He made her sound so Pollyanna. She wasn’t; she just chose to look on the bright side of life.
“What about that time you got assigned to audit a jackass of a farmer who made your life miserable, and then you got your car stuck in a muddy ditch while trying to leave his sorry ass behind?”
“Hmmm…I think you’re right,” Jennifer said, pretending to be serious for a moment. “I mean, have you met that guy? A real turd in the punchbowl.”
