Page 4 of Mountain Man’s Flirty Farmgirl (Wildwood Valley Harvest #1)

BLADE

“ D id you make a wish?”

Sienna’s question jerked me out of a very vivid fantasy of her naked on top of me, riding my hard cock. It had felt like a safe enough fantasy. We were both on our backs, staring up at the sky, after all. But her question shone a spotlight on me, making me feel like I’d been busted.

“A wish?” I asked.

“On the first star you saw. Or maybe you have everything you could ever want.”

There was one thing I wanted that I hadn’t had yet.

She was lying just a few feet away from me.

I could reach out my arm and touch her shoulder.

A few scoots to the right, and I’d be touching her breast. Yeah, that idea might have run through my mind at least a half dozen times in the past half hour or so.

“I don’t wish on stars,” I said. “I don’t believe in any of that stuff.”

That made me sound like an asshole. Whatever. It was the truth. And besides, I was an asshole.

“You’ve never made a wish?” she asked. “Not even when you blow out your birthday candles?”

“Nope.”

My dad would’ve kicked my ass if I’d tried wishing on something. But Sienna didn’t need to hear my bummer of a life story. There was an innocence about her that I just did not want to corrupt. I wanted her to continue to believe in sunshine and rainbows if it made her happy.

Whatever made Sienna happy. Suddenly, that was all that mattered to me.

“So, what exactly are you wishing for?” I asked, hoping to shift the subject away from my stargazing habits.

“Crops. My folks are struggling. They may have to sell the property if things don’t pick up soon.”

She exhaled. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve been traveling around to different farmers markets since the spring, just trying to bring in some revenue.”

I examined the dots in the sky above us, tracing their patterns like it was a puzzle I was solving. Connect the dots. We played that game a few times when I was a kid. At school, not at home. There were no games in my childhood home.

“It’s the only home I’ve ever known,” Sienna said.

It took me a second to realize she was still talking about her family farm. My thoughts had drifted to my own childhood home, so I was confused for a second, but I quickly figured it out.

“So, you’re wishing for crops to grow?”

“Or for big sales this week,” she said. “Last week was a bust. I was in a small town…” She sighed.

“I guess they didn’t advertise the event at all.

A few people showed up, and nobody was buying.

I ended up practically giving away some items by the time it came to an end. They were going bad anyway.”

“That sucks,” I said. “We’re a pretty small town too, though.”

“Yeah, but I’m already seeing more people today than I did all last week put together. Someone did a good job advertising.”

I had no idea who that “someone” would be. Maybe Bobbi, who owned the inn and the pancake restaurant next to it.

I glanced over at Sienna, lit faintly by the moonlight, her arms folded behind her head and her long legs stretched out in front of her. She looked peaceful. Comfortable. Like she belonged in this exact moment.

“So,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You’ve lived on that farm your whole life?”

She nodded. “Every single year since I was born. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

I stayed quiet, but something about that hit harder than I expected. I didn’t like it. Didn’t like the twist in my gut. Like maybe I was hoping she’d say she was looking for somewhere new. Like maybe I wanted her to stay in Wildwood Valley.

That was absurd. I didn’t even know her.

But maybe I did.

“I mean, I’ve traveled,” she said. “I’ve been outside my hometown. Nothing big. No trips to Europe or anything. But I’ve been all around Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama. Even hit Georgia a few times. But I always go home. Always.”

“You ever think about not going back?”

She turned her head toward me. “Sometimes. Lately more than ever. But it’s hard to imagine. That land…it’s more than just property. It’s my whole identity.”

“Must be nice,” I said, my tone more bitter than I meant it to be. “To have something like that.”

She nodded. “It is. But it’s not always easy.

We didn’t have money growing up, so we all pitched in.

I was out in the fields before I was tall enough to reach the bottom branch of a peach tree.

And once I could run a stand at the market, I did that too.

Early mornings, late nights. No sleepovers.

No football games. No homecoming dances. ”

She laughed a little, but there wasn’t much humor in it.

“I’ve missed out on a lot,” she said. “Still missing out, honestly.”

I looked at her again, her expression open and thoughtful. “That’s hard to believe.”

She smiled, then looked up at the stars. “You ever feel like you’re just a little too safe? Like you played everything right, but still ended up with an incomplete life?”

I didn’t answer. Because yeah, I did.

“I’ve never done anything reckless,” she said. “Nothing wild or crazy or off-script. And sometimes I wonder what it’d feel like to let go.”

She turned to me again, her gaze settling on mine. Something unspoken passed between us.

“Blade, there’s something I want to tell you.”

I braced myself.

“I’ve never… I mean, I’m still…” Her cheeks flushed, even in the dim light. “I’ve never had sex. I’m still a virgin.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I was surprised, yeah, but not shocked. There was something about her—a sweetness, an innocence. Not naivety, exactly. She just seemed untouched by a lot of the world’s ugliness.

She looked away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe because I don’t want to be anymore. Maybe because I think I want it to be you.”

My heart thundered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said quickly. “I just… I feel safe with you. And if I’m going to let go of that part of myself—if I’m going to step outside my comfort zone—I want it to be here. Now. With you.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing over mine. Then she took my hand. That one touch sent a jolt straight through me. All the restraint I’d been clinging to started to unravel.

I looked at her—really looked—and saw everything I hadn’t known I wanted until this moment. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, eyes locked on mine. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

I leaned in, my mouth brushing hers, my hands cupping her face like she was the most precious thing I’d ever held.

And under the stars, with the mountain breeze whispering through the trees, I kissed her like a man starved.

Because I was. And she was the first taste of something I never wanted to let go.