Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

The sun is on its way down, which tells me it’s been a handful of hours since I arrived. And a while more since I’ve been out here in this heat trying to socialize and act like I belong here at all.

And still no Harrison. Where the hell are you?

Finally, I realize I can’t stand another second of it. I can’t even enjoy this tasty-ass hotdog in my hand, which I only assume is tasty, since I haven’t taken a single bite. I set it down, then quietly excuse myself from the others. I step off the deck and stand at the side of the house with my phone. I thumb through my contacts.

His name stares me in the face.

I close my eyes, take a breath, then send a text:

ME

Hey.

I know. It’s a profoundly moving first text after not speaking for over a week. Gives him a lot to work with.

He texts back rather quickly:

HARRISON

Hey. What are you up to?

I frown.

What am I up to?

That response seems more casual than I expected.

Annoyingly casual.

Infuriatingly casual, in fact.

I jab my fingers to the screen and reply:

ME

Wondering where ur ass is, thats what.

I smirk triumphantly, satisfied with my text.

His response comes in the form of a voice behind me: “My ass is right here.”

I spin around so fast, I drop my phone on the ground. He’s in a tank top, half-tucked into a tight pair of jeans that remind me of how exquisite it feels to be trapped between his muscular thighs, with a backwards cap on to complete his look—and an irritatingly dashing smile that makes his eyes sparkle in the evening sun.

Not that I’m in a mood to be charmed by his smile.

Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. “Where the hell—?” I start to ask.

“Just arrived. Had some business to take care of on the farm.” He pockets his own phone, picks mine up off the ground, weighs it in his hand, then gives me a look. “Dying of boredom already?”

I lean against the side of the house and shrug. “Not really. It’s pretty fun, actually. Hung out with Lance most of the time so far.”

There’s a flicker of surprise across his face. “Lance?”

“Yep. Did you tell him about us, by the way? Either he’s got a sixth sense about secrets, or someone spilled a bean or two.”

He hesitates, then says, “He basically forced it outta me.”

Thought so.

His eyes dance down my body, taking me in. I can sense his racing heart from where I stand. And all his troubled thoughts. I can take a stab at a few of them, too.

I decide to open the door first. “How’ve things been out there on the farm? Does Peepers miss me?”

His eyes meet mine. “I’m sure she does.”

“How ‘bout Wilbur, Charlotte, Baconator, and Lord Big Butt?”

His face wrinkles up. “Baconator? Lord Big Butt??”

“I gave some of ‘em my own names. Call it a favor to my sister, who thinks it’s the greatest cruelty to not name all the animals.”

“They are all named.”

I gasp. “How come I never learned them all??”

“Guess you never asked, and yes,” he says, taking another step toward me, “all the pigs missed you, too. Especially Lord Big Butt, whichever one that is.”

I take a step toward him. “Anyone … else … miss me?”

We stop in front of each other.

His eyes burrow into me, as if desperate to convey something.

All I really want to do right now is climb him, prove to him how wrong he was in pushing me out of his figurative bed, and turn his lips puffy red from how aggressively I’d kiss them.

In a soft voice, he says, “You know I missed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” He gazes at my lips, then flicks his eyes away. “It wasn’t ever a question whether I had feelings for you, Hoyt. It was just a question of what was best for you. Of what is best for you.”

“You should let me worry about that,” I tell him.

He looks at me. “So was it best? To leave? To see what life was like off of Gary Strong’s acreage?”

“It’s just been a week. Maybe too soon to tell.”

He sucks on his tongue in thought. Then he starts patting my phone absently against his chest as he studies me. “How’s life at the Strong Fitness Zone, then? You like your new job there?”

I consider it honestly. “It’s … tons of fun, actually. I’ve been put to a lot of use since they hired me on the spot.”

“I knew they would. You’re not the same cocky kid you were when you showed up on Gary’s doorstep. I’m proud of you,” he tells me, meeting my eyes again. “Really proud.”

I chuckle. “Been getting that a lot lately. Everyone’s so ‘proud’ of me.” I smirk. “I kinda came out to my friends, by the way.”