I met her gaze. “Well, when you ask nicely like that, sure.”
She grinned at me. “And make it snappy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I could have sworn I saw her blush, which added a bounce to my step. That had felt an awful lot like flirting, and while I might not know shit about farming, I knew how to make a woman melt for me.
In the barn, I slung the bag of feed over my shoulder and strode out like a hunter returning with my kill. “Where would you like me to put it?”
Shelby rolled her eyes. “I already told you. Bring it over here and open it up.”
I hefted the feed bag up and placed it at her feet. Her unimpressed look as she watched lit fires inside me. It drove me to impress her, to wipe that judgmental expression off her face and replace it with desire.
To do that, I had to show her I could hold my own on the farm. Step one toward doing that was opening up my sack. I examined the burlap sack at my feet and frowned. “How the hell do you open this? Is there like a perforated edge or something?”
Shelby shook her head at me, took something out of her pocket, and flicked open a sharp-looking blade. “There’s a perforated edge once you make one.”
She sliced through the thick burlap with ease, and I stood back to watch her with awe. Shelby was a take-charge kind of woman and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. That already made her fascinating to me, but on top of that, she looked cute as fuck doing it all. I had never expected to get turned on by a knife-wielding farmgirl, but life had a funny way of surprising people.
Shelby folded her knife closed and stowed it back in her pocket. Then she gestured at the open bag. “Now take that in the pen and load up the feeders.”
“No sweat.” I grabbed the feed bag, careful not to spill anything. She opened the gate for me, and the moment I was inside the pen, a horde of ducks swarmed me.
“What the hell?” I tried to hide the panic in my voice, but the little shits were all around my feet, making me afraid to take a step for fear I might hurt one of them. But they were pecking at my boots and my denim pantlegs, pulling on my laces, and quacking threateningly.
“Shelby, help.”
“Relax,” she said with a laugh. “My girls know it’s feeding time. They’re just hungry.”
“They’re stampeding,” I said.
Unable to move, my balance faltered. I didn’t want to step on any animals and falling over on top of them would be even worse. Unfortunately, I was in definite danger of toppling over like a chopped-down tree.
I needed to grab onto something or I would fall, so I threw the feed bag as far as I could, which wasn’t very far since it was open, and I grabbed onto the gate just behind me.
“Bad bunny!” Shelby admonished. “That feed is expensive. And that’s too much food. You’re going to make my ducks fat.”
I shot her a glare. “Aren’t fat ducks good?”
“Maybe if you’re going to eat them, but my girls lay eggs.” She shook her head at me like I was a fool. “So I want a nice, healthy duck.”
My mind briefly switched the word “duck” with “dick” and I had to suppress a groan. Then I switched “duck” to “fuck” and I needed a cold shower. Shelby drove me crazy in a way women never did. She had me thinking crazy stuff, throwing me off balance as much as the duck army had.
I thought coming out to the Kentucky countryside was supposed to be simple, but so far, it had been nothing but complications.
Somehow, I kept my expression calm, but inside, I was getting all hot and bothered. When she talked to me like that, it awoke a beast in me. I wanted to show her exactly what I could do.
I could quiet her pouty mouth with a kiss, throw her over my shoulder like a sack of duck food, and tumble into bed with her. Shelby would be shouting my name in ecstasy instead of saying it with annoyance.
She came into the pen and shouldered past me. The ducks parted for her and she picked up the bag to salvage whateverfeed was left. Then she shoved it against my chest. “Put the rest of this in the feeders, and try not to screw it up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Shelby scowled at me in response, and I wanted to take a picture and make it my phone’s wallpaper.
After the duck-feed debacle, things went more smoothly. With an extra pair of hands, we wrapped up her work for the day before noon. I could tell she wasn’t used to being finished this early.
“Come have lunch with me,” I told her.
