If they were going into that field, the fencing needed to be extra secure.
Yesterday, I’d noticed Jasper fiddling with the fence while he was in the goat pen. It looked like he’d been stretching—yoga, maybe—but had stopped to mess with the fence near the gate.
If I told myself I wasn’t spying on him, maybe I’d believe it eventually.
But I could see him. I’d seen him hauling stuff all over the yard. And as usual, he was in a T-shirt and those damned cutoffs that—even from across the way—showed off skin I swore was shiny from the sun and sweat.
Yesterday, he dumped a thermos of water over his head, and I would’ve sworn he looked right at me when he did it. No way could he have seen me from the opening in the upper part of the barn, but it felt like he wanted me to see him.
Like he could see straight into the part of me that had been dormant for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like to need someone.
Either way, I’d see Jasper today, but strictly for fencing purposes.
It was my own fault, really. He’d asked me to show him what he needed, and I hadn’t done that properly. There’d be no sitting on porch swings stargazing. No intimate dinners.
Absolutely nothing that looked like a Daddy taking care of his little.
Except…I kinda wanted to know what it felt like to be the one who fixed his sippy cup. Maybe rinsing his hair in the bath, or a few other body parts, would be fun too. And I had a hunch that watching him play with toys or joining him might bring me the kind of mental break I hadn’t had in years. I’d bet money Jasper’s giggle was sunshine in a cup.
Fence check.
That’s it.
Absolutely no Daddy or little shenanigans.Unless he asks with his manners.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Jasper said with a startled yelp.
I hadn’t meant to sneak up on him, but when I’d seen him silhouetted in the barn door, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. He’d had his back to me, long legs on full display in his ever-present cutoffs. He’d leaned against a shovel, taking a break from mucking stalls, backlit by the afternoon sun. He’d looked like a statue at rest. I didn’t know shit about art, but I knew enough to tell Jasper was made to be someone’s muse.
He waited for me to say something—probably an apology for making him jump. I should’ve, but my brain hadn’t come back online. Jasper’s eyes stayed expectant, but all I could do was stare.
“Did you need something?” he asked, laughter dancing at the edges of his voice.
Shit. What was my excuse supposed to be?
“Yeah. I did need something.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is? We can play charades if you want. I’m good at all sorts of games.”
His twinkling eyes made it clear I wasn’t fooling him in the slightest.
“I, uh…I wanted that berry recipe. It was really good.”
“The berry recipe? You came all the way over here for that?”
“Yeah, why are you making it weird?” I asked defensively. “The berry recipe. Are you one of those people who never shares recipes? I’ve got a great-aunt like that. Everyone thinks it’s weird.”
“I don’t mind sharing,” he said. “I just thought you hated cooking.”
Shit. I had told him that.
“It’s… It’s for my mom. She really likes berries.”
“Are you not sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. She definitely likes berries.”
“Then she should toss them in a bowl, squirt a little honey over the top, and let them sit for a while.”
