Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

He nods, already ahead of me. “When does her party start?”

“Probably in the afternoon. It’ll go into the early evening.”

“Is it alright if you get there around dinnertime?”

“Sure, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Alright, I’ll let Lea know. Once you do your afternoon work, instead of going to the bunkhouse for dinner, you can take off.”

“Great! Thanks.” I pocket my phone, then realize something else. “Well, uh, actually …”

“Yes?”

I come back up to him. “I need a ride.”

He studies me for a moment. Then he cracks a smile and looks off, shaking his head. “I swear, Hoyt …”

“What?”

“You don’t fool me. You’re just trying to get me alone again.”

I scoff at that. “There’s far less elaborate ways I can do that. I could pull you into your cabin right now, like I just suggested a second ago. I could ask for your assistance with somethin’ dumb and tear off your clothes in the toolshed.”

The look in Harrison’s eyes turns hungry, likely imagining exactly the picture I’m painting.

Good. “Look, I just need a ride to my sister’s birthday party. A short ride into Spruce.”

“And you can’t ask a friend? Or your parents?”

Has he forgotten everything we’ve talked about? “My friends can suck it,” I go on quite sincerely, “and my mom and stepdad will be busy runnin’ the party, obviously.”

After another moment of misgiving, he finally gives in. “Okay. After I’m finished for the day, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks.” My eyes slide down his body, yet again thinking all about last night. “I liked gettin’ to fall asleep in your arms. I’ve … I’ve never felt that before.”

“Me neither,” he admits.

“I want to do it again. Have sex. Fall asleep in your arms. We … could maybe do it in your cabin next time …?”

I take his hand.

Harrison glances off yet again, as if to check for any onlookers or prying eyes, then yanks me against him and puts his other hand around my back, sliding down to cup my ass and give it a hearty squeeze. “Mmm,” he groans, kisses me, then says, “You’re gonna make me lose everything, you know that.”

“Lose everything?”

“My virginity, you took. My peace. My loneliness. My heart.” He gives me a look. “My mind.”

I stare into his eyes. “Ain’t that a good thing?”

“Don’t know yet,” he says—I think teasingly, not sure.

I study him. “Is this still exciting for you? Sneaking around? Being a pair of naughty boys, up to no good, doing it wherever we can do it, even if the horses watch?”

“It’s terrifying.” He shrugs. “And I guess a little fun, too.”

“A little …?”

He gazes off at the farm. “As long as the animals are tended to and we’re doing our duties, we’re not harming anyone. Still …” He separates from me. “We have to be careful.”

“Right. Spruce rumor mill. Gary catchin’ us … yadda, yadda.” I shrug. “Would it really be so bad, though? If people knew?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking that?”

“I’m just sayin’ …” I’m not really sure what I’m saying, actually. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a few folks out there already talkin’ about me. Rumors they heard. Maybe from a certain party where I might’ve gotten into a shouting match with someone … who may or may not have announced that I kissed Toby.”

“Really?”

“And who knows. Maybe some people around town whisper about you, wonderin’ why a big, kindhearted beauty like you isn’t snatched up yet, why you don’t date, why you show no interest in the single gals around town …”

“I don’t show interest in anyone,” he says.

“I want to have sex with you again. I want to be alone and just talk for hours with you. I want to fall asleep in your arms.”

“You want a lot.” He lets go of me rather suddenly, then heads to his door, leaving me on the steps.

I spread my hands. “Where are you goin’? So is that it? You’re just storming off because I mention that some people around town might be wondering about us already?”

“No. I’ve got work to do.” He glances at me over his shoulder, the door half-open. “And so do you. I’ll take you home for your sister’s party at dinnertime, but you gotta make sure everything’s tended to first.”

“Harrison.”

He slips inside and shuts the door, leaving me by myself. I give his door a scowl, then decide to leave him alone. He obviously has got his own thing going on in his head, and the last thing I want to do is make it worst by pestering him.

Hot and cold. That should be his middle name. Harrison Hot-And-Cold Kemp.

And you can just call me Hoyt Clueless-As-Fuck Nowak.

Dinnertime rolls around quicker than I expect. I already took a quick shower and changed, and it’s outside the mudroom sitting on an overturned crate by Harrison’s truck that I wait. When he finally emerges from his cabin, he’s in a pair of jeans with a loose, oversized gray t-shirt. “C’mon,” he calls out to me as he swings into his truck, and I hurriedly oblige.