Instead of scolding me, she’d apologised profusely for jumping to conclusions and ruining our moment. There were no awkward warnings not to get involved with her son. No ‘you’re both too young’ conversation or request for me to leave.
She’d been so understanding and sad at the same time. Sad because she knew what I knew.
Jacob was never going to forgive me for what I’d done.
I might as well leave because whatever friendship we’d managed to conjure was now dead.
She smiled, lack of sleep and age-old grief shadowing pretty blue eyes. “Morning, Hope. Much planned today?”
“Not sure.” I shrugged. “I think Jacob said we’re baling the back paddock. Something about hundreds of bales that need storing before the dew settles.”
“Ah, you’re in for a late one then. Take a pair of thick gloves. You’ll need them.” Heading toward the kitchen, she added, “We’ll all help you load them onto the trailer and into the barn. You can’t be expected to lift so many bales on your own, and Jacob definitely isn’t lifting any. Not with his bad back.”
“Wait? You know about that?”
She tapped her nose. “I always know.”
I snickered. “I had a feeling you would. I did tell him to tell you.”
“Good luck telling him to do anything.”
I sighed. “I’m beginning to understand that.”
“You’ll win him round again, you’ll see.” She poured water into the kettle. “He can’t hold a grudge forever.”
“You sure about that?”
We shared a smile before she shrugged. “Not really. But if anyone can get into Jacob’s head, you can.”
What about getting into his heart?
“Guess I’ll see you later?” I asked, my pulse already racing at seeing her son and spending yet another stressful day with him.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She blew me a kiss as I headed to the door as if this was my house, and she was my family, and this was the life I’d always lived.
Something was inherently odd that I was so at home here with dirt under my nails while fighting with a farm boy. Odd that I didn’t miss my old life, raised by nannies and daughter of a famous actor.
Odd that I’d left that world so easily.
Yet to leave this one…it killed me just thinking about.
* * * * *
“You shouldn’t be lifting that.”
Jacob ignored me, his shirtless back rippling with tanned sinew and muscle as he hauled a perfectly formed hay bale from earth to trailer.
Tugging my overly big gloves back into position, I moved to stand in front of him. “I know you’re mad at me, but your back, Jake. You can’t lift—”
“I’m not mad.” He swiped his forearm over his chin, removing a stray piece of hay. “I’m furious. And don’t call me Jake.”
I blinked. “Furious at me?”
“No. At me.” He sighed heavily. “I should never have kissed you last week.”
I froze.
We hadn’t brought up that subject.
It was totally off-limits, despite working ten-hour shifts together every day. I’d respected his coldness and desire to forget it ever happened, and honestly, I’d been too afraid to bring it up in case he asked me to leave.
I’d loved kissing him. I’d loved touching him. I desperately wanted more. But if he asked me to go…God.
Glancing toward the horizon where the sun made its lazy way to bed in a wash of pink and gold, I forced myself to be brave. He’d brought it up. We had to talk about it sometime or later.
Avoiding looking at the way sweat trickled down his stomach or the tense way his shoulders bunched, I whispered, “Kissing you was one of the best things I’ve ever done.”
He flinched. “Yet it was one of my worst.”
Ouch.
I rubbed at the hole he’d punctured in my chest. Pacing away, I kicked at some hay that the baler had missed. We’d worked eleven hours straight, turning two huge fields from rowed grass into perfect square bales wrapped up with twine.
We needed to get those bales into storage before the evening dew settled. We didn’t have time to discuss our lack of a love story.
“I’m sorry, Hope. That wasn’t fair.” Jacob slouched against the rim of the large trailer. “What I meant was…I let our fight turn into something it shouldn’t. That’s all.”
“Our fight was about how we felt about each other. It made sense it would lead to something like that.”
His head whipped up, eyes dark. “How we felt about each other?”
“Oh, come on. I like you, Jacob. You must know that by now.”
His jaw clenched. “Doesn’t change anything.”
“It could.” My throat threatened to close. “If you wanted it to.”
“I don’t.”
I nodded, unable to find the strength to reply.
We stood in painful silence for the longest heartbeat before he kicked off from the trailer and came toward me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Hope. I’ve been going over how to tell you this without coming across as a heartless asshole, but…” He swallowed before forcing himself to continue. “I know you think I’m just being stubborn when I say I’m not looking for a friend. But…the honest to God truth is I’m not.”