Fertile Farms Bundle

by Candy Quinn

  At that point, I was too distracted thinking about what manual labour I’d like for him to do to me.

  “Oh? You done any work like that before?” I asked, but really, I was just prolonging our conversation, leaning further and further, trying to tempt his eyes.

  Though he took his first look no problem, he was a lil’ too stoic to let his gaze be drawn off again so easily. Instead, he crossed those thick arms over his hard chest and continued to meet my gaze nice and steady.

  “I’ve been a dock worker, security, all kinds of things. Ain’t never worked a farm, but if it’s hard, heavy work, I’m built for it and I can figure it out,” he stated firmly, in a way that made it hard to doubt he could do anythin’.

  I couldn’t help but indulge my fantasies a little of watching him get hot and sweaty on my farm, tanned and shirtless. It was clearly distorting my understanding of right and wrong, because Marcus wasn’t lying about the arsonist.

  But Asher didn’t look like an arsonist.

  “How old are you?” I asked. That was a totally relevant question.

  He furrowed his brow a little and unfurled his arms, looking me over again — and this time, taking another peek down my shirt unabashedly — as he seemed to mull over my own age in his head.

  “Twenty nine. That a factor in gettin’ hired around here?” he asked. “How old are you anyhow, hun? If it weren’t for that rack of yours, I’d swear you were too young to be drivin’ that beast of a truck,” he remarked. But somehow, his crass tone managed to convey a complimentary air rather than an insulting one.

  Don’t ask me how, it’s just how it sounded coming from him.

  Or maybe it was just the fact that I was eighteen, still a virgin, and had no prospects in sight until I met him. Maybe I was ready for some crassness in my life.

  “Yea, it’s a factor,” I said, glancing down the road towards my farm, then back at him. “How ‘bout you come by my place for an audition, huh?”

  He looked down the road where I glanced, then back at me.

  “Your farm, huh?” he said, mulling it over before he got up off his bike and nodded. “Alright. You lead the way, hun. I’ll be right on behind you,” he said, lifting his leg up and straddling his hog again with a heavy thud.

  He looked good like that, and I let my own eyes wander over his buff body before I sat back in the driver’s seat and pulled off the side of the road. Rocks flicked at the bottom of my Ford truck as I made my way to the farm, my body so much more sensitive to the vibrations of the old piece of metal.

  What would I make him do first?

  It weren’t long before we were both pulled up in front of my farm house. My ma was inside, but it weren’t nothin’. As she was those days, she had no sense of much. Any time someone pulled in, she assumed it was pa.

  As I climbed out of the truck, there was Asher, gettin’ off his bike with a slight jingle of his metal buckles on leather, comin’ up behind me.

  “So what’ve you got in mind, hun?” he asked, direct and to the point, his broad, chiselled face a little pinched as he looked for work. A big man like him was probably not used to havin’ to ask others for help, I reckoned.

  Especially not a girl that looked nearly half his age.

  I looked around at the large farm house, too big for just my ma and me, and the barn that housed a few farm animals. Most of our money was made from crops, but it helped to have a few cows and chickens around.

  But I wasn’t thinking practical jobs. I was thinking I wanted to see him topless sooner, rather than later. And there was a sure-fired way to get that.

  “I’ve been needing to clear a patch over there,” I said, pointing to some overgrown grass and weeds. “Eight by eight, for a flower garden. You’ll need the scythe and the shovel, maybe the hoe,” I said as I lead him towards the storage barn. “Everything you need is in here.” I opened it up, showing all the hoes and shovels and tools we used, all of them past their prime.

  He took just a moment to look over the area, then the tools, then nodded.

  “You got it,” he said, as he stripped off his leather jacket, and I got a look at his guns. No, it weren’t the kind of guns Marcus was worried about, I’m talkin’ ‘bout his big, bulgin’ biceps. Ain’t never seen a pair so big in my life. And those forearms? Geez! Bigger’n Marcus’ bicep and forearms put together, bulgin’ with veins.

  But more’n all that, he sported tattoos all up and down his arms. Curious symbols I didn’t recognize, ‘cept for one with a sickle in it, that I took to mean he had farm experience.

  Without a word, Asher went to the tools, and selected what he needed. First and foremost, he knew enough to fence off an area after measuring it, then got to work. Even though the tools were old and rubbish, he put his substantial strength into it, undaunted by the summer sun as he began to tear up the old shrubs and grass, and clear that plot of land through raw brawn.

  I was trying to look a bit busy, like I wasn’t going to sit back, drink a lemonade, and watch him work, though that’s what I wanted to do. I just figured after a while it’d be awkward, so I went into the barn under the guise of feedin’ the cattle, but really it was so that I could peek through this little knot in the wood in the loft. I could see everything from there, hidden from him.

  And watching him work was magnificent. Beautiful. He was precise and careful, each swing containing such power like I’d never seen.

  Even pa didn’t quite match up to this guy’s strength, though pa had more practice and finesse with farm tools than him. It was clear, despite the one tattoo, that Asher weren’t a pro at farm work, but he weren’t a slouch and nor were he an idiot, he knew what he was doin’.

  It wasn’t long before the top came off though, and he tugged that grey tank over his head, showin’ off such a slammin’ hot body. Thick pecs and abs, glistenin’ in the sun with their tattoos dark and prominent upon them. He was a hardened lookin’ man, and he did the task without a fuss nor complaint.

  Which was nice. Sometimes you get the big guys that think they’re too good to do anything else. But him...

  Well, he was a real treat. My eyes were scanning over his body, trying to make sense of all the tattoos, my eyes wandering. Sure, he was almost twice my age, and he didn’t look like the kind of guy you should bring home to momma, but she wasn’t gonna know the difference anyways. And it was hard to care for her all on my own, keep her and the farm running smoothly.

  As he was nearing finished, I went down, hoping to look like I was just inspecting his work, and that I hadn’t been spying for so long.

  Seein’ me comin’, he lifted a hoe up over his shoulder, and I realized he’d not only cleared the patch but finished tillin’ the soil for me too. I was so distracted with the show that I didn’t notice the finer details like that, I’ll confess.

  “If you’re lookin’ for a flower garden, I reckon you’ll want me to put up a fence ‘round it too. Don’t want no animals wanderin’ in and messin’ it up,” he said to me matter of factly, unabashed about his near nudity, even as his jeans hung so darn low on his waist I felt like I was half an inch from seein’ somethin’ naughty. “Somethin’ nice and pretty, a white lil’ picket thing maybe,” he said.

  I blinked, begging my mind to pay attention to his words and not that treasure trail leading to...

  Well, I knew, in theory, but I ain’t never seen one in the flesh. Can’t blame a girl for getting curious.

  “Yea, a fence,” I muttered absently before looking at the supply barn. “There’s probably some wood in there, not sure if it’d be good enough.”

  He cocked a brow at me quizzically.

  “So does that mean I have the job?” he asked in that deep, husky voice of his. The sort of voice I only knew from TV and movies, the kind that makes a gal wanna cream her jeans. “‘Cause we should probably talk pay and all that. Maybe even exchange names,” he tacked on with some dry humour, a slight smirk on those full lips of his.

  Of course, I knew his name,
but I wasn’t going to admit that, or how I’d found out by askin’ Mr. Fennel. I put my hands in my jean shorts back pocket, thrusting my chest out a bit and daring him to look at me again. I knew I was being brazen, but my body was tingling with need.

  “I suppose. You wanna come in and I’ll get you some water? We ain’t got much, but we need a farmhand sure as anything.”

  He gave me a firm nod and started to tread upon the earth with his heavy footsteps.

  “Name’s Asher, by the way,” he said as he walked on by, and did the slightest of thing. A brief touch of his hard, calloused hand upon my arm. It was a strong grip, but a light touch, and easy to tell he was no regular city boy. He clearly knew how to work with that feel of his palm.

  Though more immediate, was the tight cheeks that were hugged by his jeans as he headed on towards the farmhouse and laid the hoe to rest by the door.

  “Shelby,” I said as I followed after him, unashamed about how my eyes wandered over his firm ass, the little indents just above his cheeks.

  “You sure got a lot of tattoos, Asher.”

  That remark got little more than a grunt from him, and I realized quickly that I weren’t gonna be gettin’ a lot of detailed answers about this mystery man’s past so easy as that. It’d take more diggin’ than scuffin’ about the topsoil.

  We went on into the farm house, and there was sight nor sound of ma, which weren’t surprisin’. She spent most of her day knittin’ in the rockin’ chair upstairs, for no particular reason.

  So I went to fetch us both a tall glass of water, as I turned and looked to the tall drink of water that really interested me.

  “You here all alone?” he asked, less curious than confused. Concerned maybe. His brow furrowed as he looked around, seein’ no signs of anyone else as he stood bare chested in my kitchen.

  I admit, for a second I was a bit scared, just enough to get my heart racing. If he were an axe murderer, well, I was servin’ myself up on a platter for him. No one around for miles and him thinking I was by myself in the big ol’ farmhouse.

  Though the confusion kinda softened me to it.

  “Ma’s around,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said as I handed him the water, a few pieces of ice in it from the icebox, though he guzzled the whole glass so fast that never made a difference. Then he plunked the glass on down with a satisfied ‘ah’ and I plucked it up again, having not even sipped my own.

  “You worked up a fierce thirst, that’s fer sure,” I remarked, pourin’ up another glass from the pitcher.

  “Been on the road all mornin’, haven’t stopped for a break since I set out,” he explained in his deep tone, leanin’ up against the countertop all casual like, lettin’ his bare chest ripple.

  “Where you come from?” I asked as I handed his glass to him, taking a smaller sip of my own. I knew better than to chug cold water after working up a sweat.

  “Out east,” was all he offered up, wiping his brow with the bare skin of his bulging forearm, the sweat drawing attention to the way his veins bulged his sunkissed skin out. He was a real man, hardened by the elements and life, I reckoned. “You grow up on this farm all your life?” he asked in return, lookin’ at me like all his attentions were focussed.

  “Yea, was my grandpappy’s before now, been in the family for over forty years,” I said, being a lot more forthcoming than him. I couldn’t help it. I wanted him to keep talking and thought maybe if I shared, he would too.

  “You’re lucky,” he said after a long mulling over, nodding his head as he took his time with that second helping of ice cold water. “Not many folks I’ve known got the luxury of growin’ up in one spot. Most end up movin’ all over the place, travellin’ wherever there’s work or money,” he said, leaning back with one hand upon the counter top.

  I’d never thought of it like that. Always felt chained down to the one place, especially after pa died and ma started going dim.

  “Yea, I guess so.” I took another sip, thoughtful for a moment. “So that’s why you’re on the go? Just looking for a job with nothing more than the clothes on your back?”

  With a casual shrug of his shoulders he rested the glass down on the countertop and looked to me with a half-smile.

  “Well, sheddin’ those fast too at this rate,” he said oh so casually, lookin’ me up and down without a lick of shame, not like the shy farmboys I knew all my life, who were only brave or brazen when in a pack of their friends. “Room and board, and a daily pay is all I ask, and I’ll do whatever needs doing around the farm. You got work needs to be done, I’ll get it done. No fuss. That’s my guarantee, Shelby,” he said with such firm assurance, leaving me without a shred of doubt in his abilities.

  I looked at him and gave a soft nod. I wasn’t kidding anyone if I thought for a second I wouldn’t hire him on. And the idea of cooking for a man, and having dinner with him, that didn’t turn me away from it at all.

  “Agreed,” I said as I drank the rest of my water. “There’s lots that needs done and you seem pretty quick about it.”

  “There’s only a couple things I’m slow about, hun,” he remarked so casually, pushing himself up from the countertop and leaving his glass behind. “Now you got a shed I can store my bike in while I’m not using it? Rather it stay clean and dry, if it can be helped.

  There he was, looming over me, tall as a mountain it seemed, and just as large. All tattooed, tanned flesh over hard, corded muscle. Whatever he did before, if it weren’t farm work, it was somethin’ tough.

  And with his first comment, it took me a while to get enough awareness about anything else to really hear what he said next, something about his bike.

  What’d he mean going slow about things anyways?

  My heart was thudding like my body was hopeful it was something dirty, and I was struggling not to blush.

  “What? Oh, yea, yea, the shed, sure. We keep the tractor and stuff, you can use that if you want.”

  He looked me over again and gave a firm nod.

  “Thanks,” he said simply before heading towards the door. “I’m gonna park it on in there, and then you can tell me more about what needs doing. Won’t take me long to finish up that fence for you anyhow,” he said simply before strutting on out, that tight rear of his on display as he headed on up the path.

  I had no idea what I was gettin’ myself into. Never so much as seen a man like him around, let alone spent much time with him. But there he was, topless as he got up on his hog and pulled it on into the tractor shed with the other equipment.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter as I stared, and I swear, if I’d been a few years younger I’d probably have had little birds and hearts floating around my golden hair.

  As it was, I instead had this warmth between my thighs and a longing I’d never felt before, not like that, not ever.

  * * *

  I spent most of the rest of that day puttin’ together supper. It’d been a while since I had an excuse to go all out like that. Most of my days had been spent doin’ all the work that Asher was up to, on my own, after all. A day of that left a gal in the mood for one thing: fast and easy food, that’s it.

  Instead, I got to spend my time gettin’ reacquainted with my old culinary skills, whippin’ up a roast chicken, with mashed taters and veggies, all fresh from the garden. And of course, usin’ my time in front of the kitchen window to admire my new view.

  Though as I was gettin’ ready to go out and call Asher in, there came trouble up the road. Trouble, thy name is Marcus.

  Sure, my older cousin was no big deal, he was more bark than bite. But he could sure bark a lot when he got somethin’ stuck in his craw, and I had a feelin’ Asher was one of those things that’d stay stuck.

  Though as Marcus pulled up and got out of his truck, the big smile on his face said he hadn’t yet noticed the big hunk over in the farmhouse yet.

  “Hey, how you holdin’ up?” Marcus asked, as he walked on up, hands in his pockets.

  “Fine,
what’re you here for?” I asked, and I knew I was being way too terse. He was going to figure it out in a second if I kept up like that. “I didn’t expect to see you again is all, is everything alright?”

  “Just figured I’d stop by, see how you was doin’,” he said, smilin’ and takin’ with no notice of my rude behaviour. “Thought you might be tuckered after all day, and wanna head into town for some of Miss Maddy’s cookin’.”

  Of course, there was only the one restaurant in our sleepy little farm ‘town’. And it was one I was ashamed to say I spent more than I should at.

  “It’s fine, Marcus, I’ve actually...” I paused. If I mentioned a feast, he’d want to stay and it’d be rude to say no, but I was greedily wanting not to have to deal with his bark right yet. But I couldn’t think fast enough to come up with a plausible excuse to get him gone.

  “I made up some chicken already, is all,” I said.

  “Oh, well… could put that in the pantry for now. Dinner’s on me, after all,” he said with a toothy grin. “Or… we’s could split it,” he added on, lookin’ impish and cute. Though that faded mighty fast once I saw his eyes dart over to the side, towards the barn house, and a grim look took hold.

  I could swear he thought we was about to be murdered! But when I looked over, it was just Asher, comin’ out of the barn, topless and with his shirt in hand.

  It was awkward. He’d already told me off for being too trusting, and here he was trying to be nice and family like and I’ve gone behind his back. But I couldn’t help but stare at Asher longer than was polite. Sweat accentuated his muscles, making him shine just a little, and I was entranced.

  “You never…” Marcus said, lookin’ at me like I’d just burnt down the family farm, instead of givin’ some guy a break. “What’re ya thinkin’, Shelby?!” he said, as Asher looked up and over in our direction as he slowly continued along his way towards us.

  “If’n you needed some help, I’d have give it!” Marcus said, gesturin’ wildly with his lanky arms.

  “You got your own stuff and I won’t have you be put out on my account! ‘sides, he’s just here to help out for the busy season, gettin’ everythin’ ready and all that. Even you and I couldn’t work faster and better than one of him and you know it.”