Page 10 of Crossroads

NINE

How is there so much to do here?

I mean . . . it’s just a farm. They just raise some animals and corn. But every second of the day, there’s some backbreaking work to be done. If I’m not helping fix the fence—which, what the hell? How do so many fences get broken anyway?—I’m busy feeding or cleaning. Or running animals to auctions.

Or picking up animals at auctions. Or helping Kelly get products ready for the farmers’ markets. It never ends.

I didn’t think it would be easy work because I’m not that naive. But it’s constant. And it’s hot as hell here too. My mother wasn’t kidding.

I was born and raised in the same state, and I can confidently say no summer has ever been this hot. It’s ten in the morning, and I’m already sweating my balls off in the balmy, humid as fuck eighty-five-degree weather.

When I’m done milking the goats—yes, they actually make me do that, and there’s not a machine here for it, so it’s my own hands that have that task—I hand the milk off to Kelly to make soap or whatever she does with it, and then I search out Jasper.

What I don’t expect to find, and I mean, not at all after what felt like an eternity searching for him, is Jasper by one of the large ponds on the property. And I don’t expect it because he’s getting undressed.

His ugly-ass work boots go first, then his socks. And then his flannel button-down shirt he decided to wear. I don’t know how the holy fuck he didn’t pass out from the heat wearing that.

He’s wearing a white tank top under his shirt that clings to his skin, showing off thick sinewy arms with taut muscles. And okay—not sure why I’m noting all the details, but hey, I can admit when another guy has a nice physique.

The dude is in good shape.

But then he lifts off the tank top and tosses it next to his shoes.

My sight is now glued to the muscles of his back.

I have what most would call a swimmer’s body—lean but plenty of defined muscles.

I’m no slouch, but Jasper—Jesus. He has muscles on top of muscles.

All bunched up and flexing with each movement.

“What are you doing?” I blurt out, but he doesn’t seem too startled—which honestly is odd. He’s so uptight, I thought him getting caught skinny-dipping in the middle of the day would really send him in a tailspin.

He just turns around to face me, his forehead crinkled like I’m an annoying pest or something. “What do you think? It’s hot as hell today.”

“Maybe you should have dressed for it being hot.”

His eyes roll, and then his hands go to the button on his jeans.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I ask, walking closer to him and keeping my voice down, though I’m not really sure why. I guess I don’t want anyone else to witness his very clear mental break here. I mean, that’s what’s happening, right?

Maybe I should ask for a witness. Go get Kelly or something. This is so not part of my job description.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks, looking irritated, yet totally calm or as sane as he’s always appeared. But he does push his jeans all the way down now, kicking them off his feet and leaving him in black boxer briefs, and that’s it.

For reasons I don’t really want to explore, it takes a lot for me to look him in the eyes and not inspect the front of his body. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” I ask, my hand sweeping between our bodies as if to show off exactly what I mean. “You’re getting undressed out in the open, on a workday.”

He looks at me. No expression whatsoever for far too long and making me feel like maybe I’m the one who lost his mind. And then he snorts loudly, his brow raising in amusement. “Am I supposed to swim fully clothed?”

My mouth opens for a second and then slams closed. I don’t really know what to say. Jasper has been hellbent on holding up the rules of this farm, and all of a sudden, he’s going swimming in the middle of the day.

“You’re swimming on the clock. Isn’t that against the rules?

” Rules he’s been pounding into my head since the day I started.

Rules that give me a headache. Don’t touch that, Emerson.

It’s expensive equipment. You don’t get to drive.

You’re not experienced enough. No texting while on the clock, Emerson.

You could get me or yourself hurt if you’re not paying attention.

The guy never fucking stops.

“It’s hot,” he says with a shrug, and I think my brain may malfunction. Because that’s it? He’s willing to break the rules because it’s hot? No shit it’s hot, but I can’t imagine Kelly is fine with him stripping off and going for a nice swim right now.

I open my mouth to argue more—I mean it’s one of my favorite pastimes in this hellscape—but then Jasper turns away from me again, pushing his briefs down and exposing the perfectly shaped ass he was apparently hiding under those briefs, and I nearly swallow my damn tongue.

No ass has ever looked that good, I don’t care who it’s attached to. The skin is smooth and paler than the rest of his skin but stretched tight over what I have to assume is firm, firm muscle. His ass is sculpted into a beautiful peach that makes my mouth water.

I don’t know what the hell is going on with me, but I don’t stop staring until he steps completely out of the briefs. He sinks into the murky pond water, only his waist and above visible now.

Then he wades further into the water, dipping his head back and getting his entire body wet, dragging the water over his head before he turns to face me.

We’re enemies. That was established from day one.

The guy hates me, and the feeling is mutual.

I’m sick of him bossing me around, but my throat is dry, and my pants feel uncomfortably tight as I stand there like a creep, just watching him in a daze.

He’s absolutely beautiful. His skin is kissed by the sun, and he has a bit of a farmer’s tan going on. But he’s mostly the same shade all over, and now I know why. Jasper—the totally uptight pain in my ass farmhand—loves to go skinny-dipping on his boss’s property.

“What’s your problem?” he asks, thankfully making me snap somewhat back to reality.

“Really? Your junk is out.” I wave toward him, feeling off-kilter and not sure what’s going on with me. Maybe I’m having a heat stroke. It really is fucking hot out here.

His eyes roll, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” He looks down pointedly. “My junk is actually underwater. And stop thinking about my junk in the first place.”

He emphasizes the word junk each time he says it, like he finds it an amusing choice of words. “I’m not thinking about it,” I say defensively, and I’m not. Not really. I mean, I didn’t even get to see it. Not that I wanted to see it or anything, but that’s beside the point.

“What’s wrong with you. Are you having a stroke?” he asks, mirroring my thoughts from earlier, which makes me pissy and even more defensive.

“You’ve been on my ass since day one about doing my job and only my job while I’m here. And here you are, just swimming away on a workday. Like it’s perfectly fine for you to get naked and swim around.”

“You’re really focused on the naked part,” he says, sounding far too amused. I don’t want him to be amused. I want him pissed off.

I purse my lips, irritated that he has me frazzled for once.

It’s supposed to be the other way around.

“Look, I’ve been behaving this past week.

” For the most part. “I haven’t mentioned your family since you told me not to.

I’ve done what you told me to. Hell, I didn’t even go in to town on my day off to ask Lucy out on a date like I had planned. ”

There’s the pissed off look—that scowl that makes my dick even harder. It’s not a sexual thing. It’s not. It’s just—adrenaline. I love seeing him worked up, his nostrils flaring and the veins in his neck pulled tight. He looks like a feral animal right now. “It’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

I smirk, unable to pull my eyes off him. Every muscle that’s visible right now is taut—pulled tight with aggression. “Very caveman of you. You don’t own her.”

I watch as his neck muscles tighten even more. His teeth are gritted, and his Adam’s apple bobs along his throat. “Stay away from her.”

This leaves me feeling much, much more grounded. This I can handle. Thinking he looks beautiful in the water? That—yeah, I can’t explain that. Nor can I really explain why I haven’t asked Lucy out.

I’m a sexual guy. I love sex. Have since I discovered it when I was probably way too young to be having sex, but still.

Love it. And I haven’t had sex since the day my mom kicked me out of my home.

It’s clear Lucy is interested in me. I could very likely talk her into bed at least once before she realizes what a prick I am and that she should stay far away.

But I haven’t had any desire to actually do that.

Making Jasper think I might? Fun. Actually doing it? Not even on my radar. I don’t really know what that’s about either. Sex is sex. Getting laid is just that. No big deal. But for some unknown reason, I know I won’t actually cross that line.

“Relax,” I say, when I realize how tense he still is. “Why are you breaking the rules today?” I try to change the subject, bored with the whole Lucy thing. Honestly, it’s just too easy anyway.

“I’m not,” he says, still seething. I wait for him to continue, and finally, he does. “Kelly couldn’t care less about me going for a swim as long as the work gets done. Which it always does.”

“You won’t even let me text, and yet you can go for a swim?”

“Yup.” He’s infuriating. The way he says it so simply without any explanation makes me want to scream. “You can go swimming too. If you want.”

My whole body runs hot with his words, and I feel unsteady on my feet, swaying for a second. Is he really suggesting I strip down and join him. My eyes lock on his, and I swear for the briefest of moments, I see a flicker of something that shocks me to my core. Lust. Want. For me.

But he quickly buries it, his scowl back on full display when I say, “I thought you weren’t gay.”

“What the hell?” His voice rises a whole octave. “I didn’t . . . I’m not,” he sputters, his cheeks turning pink for reasons other than the sun beating down on us. “I just said you can go swimming. How the hell is that gay?”

“You’re naked,” I say, my eyes dragging over his impressive torso. I note the spattering of blond hair between his pecs and defined abs I’ve had only the briefest of glances at before. His abs muscles with rivulets of water sliding down them. And my mouth is watering again.

Maybe I should go drink some water and get out of this heat. Something is definitely wrong with me at the moment.

“I’m swimming. Of course I’m naked. I’m not swimming in clothes. That’s uncomfortable. You’re the one making it weird,” he says, determined and strong in his conviction.

I look at the water surrounding his trim waist and then flick my eyes up to his. “That water is filthy. I’m not going in there.”

“Seriously?” he asks, his annoyance clear. “Is it really about the water? Or are you just shy?”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “As someone who isn’t afraid to show his junk,”—my eyes lock on his—“I think you know the answer to that.”

I notice his tongue dart out, absently running along his bottom lip, and goddammit, my heart starts racing as I watch the quick motion. “Can you swim?”

“Yes. I just don’t swim where I can’t see into the water.”

Not to mention, I seem to have a sort of predicament in my jeans at the moment. One he would definitely realize if I decided to say fuck it and jump in with him. One I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be thrilled about.

I mean, maybe I saw lust in his eyes, and maybe I didn’t. I don’t really want to find out. Pushing his buttons is fun, but getting the shit beat out of me by some closeted country boy is not ideal.

Not that he’s actually closeted. I can’t figure him out, but there’s something under the surface. Maybe something he doesn’t even see. It’s not my job to help him figure it out, and honestly, I may be in the same boat, judging by my body’s reaction to his.

“How long is this going to take?”

Jasper starts to swim around the water, his arm muscles flexing with each sure stroke. “If you’re really that anxious to get back to work, I’ll meet you in the barn in like five.”

He looks peaceful as he swims, and I find myself watching him before nodding my head—though not sure why since he’s definitely not watching me—and I head to the main barn to keep my mind busy.

Trying to occupy it with work instead of thinking about all that bare skin being kissed by the sun right now.

I really, really hate how much I’m regretting my decision to not go swimming with him.

But it’s not like anything would have happened anyway, right? We hate each other. That’s the way it should be. He probably would have wound up punching me in the face or something, so I shouldn’t regret the decision at all. It was the smart move. The safe move.

Though, those two particular things have never really been my thing before.