“He didn’t say he was coming.” I slipped to Jacob’s side, waving at the workforce coming to aid us. “He’s not exactly dressed for this kind of work. He won’t last ten bales.”
Jacob gave me a strained smile. “You sound more and more like me every day.” With a soft chuckle, he added, “You’re getting possessive of the land, thinking others can’t care for it as well as you, wanting to protect it.”
I eyed him. “Is that why you didn’t want me working with you?”
His gaze slid to the horizon and the endless heavens above. “One of the reasons.”
I desperately wanted to ask what the other reasons where. But I couldn’t handle more bitter honesty tonight.
Jacob sucked in a breath and strode forward, welcoming the new labourers.
And I followed him, patching up my broken pieces, being the brave little actress I was born to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jacob
* * * * * *
“SO YOU’VE BEEN keeping Hope busy, I take it?”
I looked up from stabbing the roast chicken Grandpa John had made. Hope’s dad sat amongst my family for dinner, thinking he belonged but definitely didn’t.
Last night, we hadn’t finished bucking hay until well after midnight. The pizzas Mom had delivered to the barn kept us going until the last trailer load, then we’d all crashed into our respective beds, with Graham in the hotel he’d booked under an alias (no way was he sleeping in my mom’s house).
I’d been jealous of the relieved groans upon finishing. The achy muscles and tired waves goodbye.
That should’ve been me.
I wanted the bruises and blisters.
I wanted the sweat and blissful sensation of a cold shower after such hot, hard work. Instead, Mom and Grandpa John had ganged up on me, threatening to tie me to the TV for a week of forced rehabilitation if I didn’t drive the tractor while they had the fun job.
It unmanned me.
It made me feel lacking and argumentative and unneeded.
I hated that they’d known about my injury all along.
Couple that with the stress of telling Hope I couldn’t be what she wanted me to be…yeah, I hadn’t slept.
Then again, I hadn’t slept since I kissed her.
“Busy in what way?” I asked coldly. “We’ve both been very busy.” I meant to sound indifferent, but the sentence reeked of a challenge. As if I’d hinted Hope and I had been busy doing other things.
Goddammit.
I couldn’t trust myself anymore.
I couldn’t even speak without second-guessing everything I said.
Hope’s face heated beside her father as she gave me a small shake of her head. “I’ve been helping Jacob do some chores, that’s all.”
“That’s not all,” Mom cut in. “She’s been working so hard. Look at those biceps. If I didn’t know she came from Hollywood, I would’ve said she’d always been a farmer’s girl.”
Graham narrowed his eyes. “I said the same thing to her last night.” He gave me a glare. “As long as she’s a girl who farms and isn’t a farmer’s girl, it’s great.”
Hope shrank deeper into her seat.
I knew what Graham was hinting at.
And God, the temptation to claim she was mine, to announce we’d made out like animals danced on my tongue.
But I was no longer that guy. I’d done my utmost to be civil to her yesterday and I refused to continue making her life difficult.
Our fights only drew painful emotion from me when all I wanted was to treat her just like any hired help—safe and distant.
She wasn’t mine.
She would never be mine.
That was the way I wanted it.
The way I needed it.
With a quick glance at Hope, I said, “She’s whatever she wants to be.”
Hope flinched, her gaze welling with all the agony I’d painted her with yesterday. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her. In a way, she’d hurt herself. Not once did I encourage her crush on me. I’d done the opposite. I’d been cruel and short-tempered, and really, this mess was her fault.
However, it didn’t stop the fact that I’d been in hell ever since our kiss.
Literal, physical hell.
Fighting myself, my heart, my body’s need for connection. Her taste still tainted my tongue. Her breathy moans. Her eager fingers. Her sweet tongue.
I could barely function.
I obsessed over her.
I broke because of her.
She’d shown me how easy it would be to fall. Way, way too easy to allow my heart to kill me.
The week we’d worked side by side in silence, I’d beaten myself up for the way I’d treated her. I’d relived every fight and replayed our kiss over and over and over until all I could think about was her.
And that was the worst thing I could ever do.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I couldn’t stop the hunger.
It drove me insane, and I lost myself to it.
I’d known I couldn’t tolerate one drop of affection without breaking, and I’d been right. A single dose of togetherness and I was willing to cut open my chest and tell Hope to take whatever she goddamn wanted because it was all useless anyway.