"Tease," I grumbled, but did as he asked.
Then he reached right between them. "Feel this?" He wiggled his hand, clearly holding something I couldn't see, but the visual was too much.
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. "Don't play with it, Luke."
"Fuck off," he laughed. "Seriously. Reach down here and grab this. I'm showing you how to..." He laughed. "Um, let's go with raise the swather."
"Mower," I said, preferring that name, but I reached down.
He was holding a lever, and guided my hand to it. "Up for up, and down for down. Now look behind you and pull on that. Not gently, either. Like a hate fuck."
"You..." But I obeyed, and the whole mower lifted up. Pushing it down set it back on the grass. "How high am I supposed to run this?"
"High enough that it's not hitting dirt," he explained. "You want to mow close, but not scalp it. Same as any lawn, just a bigger mower. Now, this?" He leaned across me to tap another lever. "That's the PTO. Toward the back is on, and toward the front is off. If you kill the tractor, turn it off, or it won't start. Emergency feature so you don't take off a leg. For mowing, you want to just go all the way up." Then he patted another lever on the dash. "This is the gas. Not the forward, but the RPMs. If it's bogging down, give 'er more. You want it to sound about like this, but when you start cutting, it'll add friction."
I groaned. "Luke! This is not sex ed!"
"So, is it true that men suck dick better than women?"
The question was not at all what I expected. "What?"
"That's the rumor," he said. "Just wondering if it's bullshit."
"Depends on the woman," I told him. "Or the man. If they're into it, does it really matter?"
"Dunno. Growing up, guys always joked that having a man suck your dick had to be better because girls don't know how to handle that stuff. Figured it was teen boy bullshit."
"Kinda depends on the gag reflex," I said. "And no, I don't have one. So..." I looked down at where his hand was still on my knee. "You ready to let me have my first time?"
"Stick to the fence, but the swather's wider than the tractor. Look behind you, and if you take out a section, text me. If you get stuck, text me. Otherwise, just mow the grass, Cy. You'll probably still be going by the time I'm back."
"What if I get lonely?" I teased.
He hopped back to the ground but his grin was still there. "Text me," he yelled. "Just try not to hit anything, and text me for anything else."
Then he tipped his hat and started marching back toward the barn. Yes, I turned to look. That cowboy filled out a pair of Wranglers in the best way. But as soon as he was on the other side, I started messing with all the levers and got it running. The mower shook like a bitch, but when I got it moving forward, I knew I had this. Luke was right, it really was just a very big riding mower.
Settling in for a few hours of this, I adjusted the hat on my head, made sure my line was straight, then turned around to check that everything was working properly. That was when I realized I wasn't alone. There, leaning against the fence, Luke was nodding at me proudly. I thought he'd left, but he was making sure I had this.
All I knew was that I now had a thing for Violet's boyfriend, and this was going to end up awkward. Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Iwoke up to a text from Cy telling me he was mowing the grass. It took me a minute to realize he meant cutting the hay. They really weren't the same thing. I sent him a message back, making sure he was ok, but didn't get a response. Not surprising, since I knew the tractor was a loud, shaking mess. He wouldn't hear his phone ring or feel the vibration. Instead, I got up, had a shower, and then decided to make myself look presentable. I was just putting on my false lashes when my phone chirped. Expecting it to be Cy, I swiped at the screen, but the text was from Ashton instead.
Magenta: How are things down there? Holding up?
Violet: Hey you! We're cutting hay!
Magenta: Nice! Guess this means you're back in the crop business. Things with Luke ok? Cy?
Violet: Is it going to piss you off if I say those two are getting along?
Magenta: Really? Calling.
A second later, my phone rang in my hands. I answered it, set it to speaker, then placed it on the corner of my dresser. "Scared you, huh?" I teased.
"What do you mean they're getting along?" he asked.
