“Was he successful?” Jake asks.
The storm cloud erupts over my head again. “Successful how?”
“Keeping your family out of the mines.”
I need to stop being so mean to this guy. He means well, and he’ll be here all damn summer. It’s not his fault I’m attracted to him and I’m trying to avoid any and all attraction because I’m currently of the mindset that men are a disease.
I flatten my lips because that’s the closest I’ll get to a smile under the circumstances. “One of my family’s proudest achievements. It took him a good decade to get it going and get the cycle of the trees down, but he was eventually able to quit the mines. He and Nonna had to work real hard at it, though. And with all their kids, it wasn’t easy. But they were dedicated, and they made it work.”
“What an amazing story,” Jake says, like he’s actually impressed or something. Do his eyes have to glow like that under the brim of that fresh-looking straw Stetson? Does his butt have to perfectly fill out his jeans? Do his shoulders have to make that pocket tee look like it’s tailored? And skin me alive, I swear there’s a little ink peeking out of his shirt sleeve and collar. Rob didn’t have tattoos. I love tattoos.
I’m fucked.
Like he smells my indecent thoughts, we bump into each other after dropping branches in the hitch. That cruelly delicious man smell wafts off him again.
And there’s that casual dimpled smile—again. “My bad, boss.”
Those dimples should be illegal in the lower forty-eight, a hazard to society. Absolutely unforgivable.
His butt and shoulders? Despicable. The ink? Criminal.
This summer might be impossible.
I make a wager with myself: survive the next week without touching the employees and you can order yourself a fun new vibrator. One of those clit and g-spot ones I got served ads for back when I had consistent internet access. Next time I go into Paint, I’m smashing that order button. Well, next Saturday. I do not already deserve one tomorrow.
That’ll be incentive enough to behave. I haven’t gotten a new vibe in years. This will be fun.
And anyway, this should be easy. This guy from the sports bar, this alleged cowboy who showed up here in a fucking pocket tee and jeans and boots and a goddamn straw hat, the guy who looks as amazing as he smells, is a bumbling fool who thinks women can’t run a farm. He probably thinks I’m just a nice decoration.
So, Rob 2.0.
“Straighten your hair, Darcy.”
“You’re wearing that? They’ll never take you seriously at work.”
“Try not to talk about redneck or book stuff at the event tonight, okay?”
Nope. Not doing that again.
I will have no need to touch the guy from the sports bar. Excuse me, the cowboy single dad from the sports bar.
God, I forgot about the single dad part.Assumedsingle.
Despite my inner turmoil, I’m pleased with how well the crew works together. Becca’s willing to work farmers markets with me, and Jake and Caleb are going to live in the cabin. Caleb will go home on the weekends to be closer to his family, but Jake will be here all the time.
It’s a relief to know someone else will be on the property to hear me scream if wild dogs or a murderer come after me. And dimples aside, I can handle the temptation. He’s just another mediocre man, and the last thing I need is to waste any further time with mediocrity.
EIGHT
JAKE
“Alright, man. It’s been good.”
I stick my head into my roommate, Stephen’s, doorway. He’s got open boxes all over the floor but sits at his desk playingWorld of Warcraftlike always. He barely looks over at me. “You leaving?”
“Not fully. Just starting to take my stuff out to the farm.” I hold up the large duffel bag in my hand.
“Oh.”
