Her sandals were slipping off, but she didn’t seem to mind as her hair cascaded down her back. I watched as she went for the sharpest knife, slicing the chicken into thin little cubes with such diligence.
She was a pro at cooking, if I knew anything about it. She moved with a certain grace and confidence that I wasn’t used to feeling when in the kitchen, at the very least.
It took a great force of will to pull myself away and go back to work then, and it wouldn’t be the last time. No, though the meal that night was delicious, I couldn’t even blame an appreciation for her craft on why I began to spend more time in the house than working the farm.
Days came and went, Rosa and me talking mor
e and more. I had finished setting up my old room for her as her quarters, using many of my ma’s old things to gussy it up some and make it look more like a lady’s residence.
Though one day she came back from town after spending the grocery allowance, and I was midway through setting up a little herb garden for her. I had intended it to be a surprise, and I suppose it was, even if I wasn’t finished.
She’d remarked to me casually that she missed working with homegrown herbs rather than store bought, and hell, if there was one thing my farm was built around, it was using all the homemade materials we could muster.
“Aw shit, this was supposed to be a surprise, Rosa. You weren’t s’posed to see this until I was done,” I said, as I placed the wire onto the last fence post, making sure none of the chickens or pigs got into the future herbs to grow there.
She looked it over with such a quiet reverence, uncertain of what to make of it all. She placed the burlap sacks down on the ground as her hand went to her chest. Her dark eyes moved from me to the soil and back.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked gingerly.
The day was getting late and I’d had to work extra hard that day to find the time to work on her garden, so I’d shed my shirt and stood, bare from the waist up, my jeans hangin’ low, hard body on display. I glistened in the hot summer sun, overheated and thirsty, but I could only smile at how excited she was.
“Darn right it is, Rosa,” I said lowly, trying to contain my own enthusiasm for her in return. “With a master of the kitchen like you around, I can’t brook you usin’ sub-standard, store-bought herbs, now can I? Nope! Only the best for you,” I declared, wiping myself down with my old shirt before I tossed it over one shoulder.
Even after all week together, she’d been self-assured and confident, always smiling and pleasant as she did her work. And she was a hard worker. I’d never seen the house so clean, everything polished and looking like new.
So it was a bit strange to see her look so weak and overjoyed, tears glittering in her eyes as she looked at me.
There was a pause, where we just stared at one another, me beaming, her more conflicted, before she closed the distance.
Her long, toned legs carried her towards me, arms flung about my neck as if no one had ever shown her an ounce of kindness before.
I’m not a man prone to emotional displays, in case that weren’t clear. But to have her cryin’ before me, arms about me, well… I couldn’t help it, I wrapped my thick arms about her, pressing my bulging biceps and forearms into her back as I squeezed her in return. That smaller, daintier form up against my tough muscle and sinew, able to feel the soft femininity in her so contrasting.
“Ain’t really nothin’,” I said somewhat sheepishly. “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable and at home here, Rosa.”
But that weren’t all it was, even I was sure of that then.
But when she looked up at me with such affection, it was hard to really think anything otherwise. She was stunned by my little act of kindness and appreciation, and she was just about damn near quivering.
“I love it,” she said, her arms still about my thick neck. “It’s the nicest thing.”
Feeling her embrace me, hanging from my body and looking up at me with such appreciation only made me want her all the more. And I knew then and there I never wanted her to leave my farm. Or my life.
I let my hands stroke along her back and gazed down at her beautiful form, absolutely smitten with her.
“I’ll have it all finished by the time supper’s ready,” I said to her in a low murmur. “But don’t expect the herbs to be ready just yet,” I joked, trying to lighten the situation, because frankly… I was loving having her in my arms too much.
I was afraid she’d notice, if she kept her belly pressed up against me too much longer, but she didn’t want to pull away either.
“Of course not,” she said softly, her lips still twitching, her eyes still big and shimmering.
“Tyler,” she whispered, and my name sounded so good coming off her tongue. “This means so much to me, I can’t possibly express.”
Her words touched me, heart and soul, but I did the manly thing and tried to shrug it off, literally. Though I couldn’t help the confession that spilled forth.
“It’s partly selfish,” I said, looking back to her eyes though I desperately wanted to avoid them for fear she’d see the full truth. “I don’t want you up and leavin’ my lil’ farm any time soon, Rosa. Much prefer it if you stayed here with me for the long haul.”
“The long haul?” she repeated, and I knew it was more her being uncertain if I meant it, rather than misunderstanding the words or the saying.