The Burbs and the Bees - Cathryn Fox Page 0,21

over Jay as we walk. His face and arms are tanned, and this morning he’s dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans that ride low on his hips. His dark hair is tangled, probably finger combed, and he has that whole just-crawled-out-of-bed look about him. It works for him. Big time. Yeah, my new next-door neighbor probably has all the farmers’ daughters lining up to ride on his big tractor.

Stop thinking about his equipment.

“You, ah, yesterday you said you’d send him over to milk Sidney,” I say, my voice coming out a little huskier than I would have liked. I sniff to pretend it’s allergies making me hoarse. Although my nose is a bit stuffy.

He shrugs, but concern flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away. “I was up, and Ty makes lousy coffee. After yesterday, I figured you’d need a strong cup.”

“Or a dozen,” I say as I relish another sip.

“Yeah,” he says and rubs the back of his neck. He looks out over the orchard like he’s a million miles away with a million things on his mind.

“Do you think you could ask Cluck to, well, hold off his clucking until like, maybe eight o’clock?”

Jay reaches into his pants and produces a key. “He crows, he doesn’t cluck, and sadly, no.”

“Well, Christmas dinner is soon enough, I guess.” His head rears back, and his jaw drops. “Come on, you must realize I’m kidding,” I say, grinning at his astounded expression. “I mean, Thanksgiving is much sooner.”

This time he laughs out loud, and the hinges on the barn door creak as he opens it. “We don’t eat the roosters; we eat the chickens.” As soon as the word chicken leaves his mouth, two come racing around the barn. I watch them go and shake my head.

“And now I’m a vegetarian.”

Jay hands me the key to the homestead. “Here’s your key back.”

I stare at it for a moment. “I’ve given it some thought, and maybe you should hold on to it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say. “In case I lock myself out or some other emergency.” Oh, you know, like finding myself in bed, alone, lonely, wanting to feel the farmer’s strong hands on my body. As my mind wanders, Jay angles his head, and my brain screams abort.

We step into the market. “Supplies are kept in the back of the kitchen area.” My gaze drops to Jay’s cute backside as he walks through the market and pulls out two buckets and a cloth from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen.

I make a move toward him and set aside my empty coffee mug, and a board groans beneath me. I press on it a few times, and it springs back. “This seems dangerous.”

“The place has been closed up until last week when I restocked. Lots of repairs to be done every summer. This barn is over a hundred years old.”

“I can fix this,” I say.

“You’ve done floor repairs before?” he asks, skepticism all over his face.

“Well, no, but—”

“Google?”

“Yes.”

Jay warms a cloth and we head toward the barn. Sidney is mooing and happy to see us when we arrive. Jay positions two stools beside the cow and places one of the buckets under her udder.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a little quieter. I lower myself onto the milking stool beside him, and our knees bump. A jolt of electricity buzzes through me, and I jerk my leg back fast to break the connection. If Jay noticed my physical reaction to our touching, he’s ignoring it, and for that I’m grateful. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I’m here to work the farm, not my neighbor. No matter how delightful the latter sounds.

Good Lord.

“First, we clean her,” he says, his voice an octave lower, a soft whisper that slides down my spine and spreads warmth through me. His fingers brush mine as he takes the cloth from me, but all I can focus on are his big hands and how gentle he’s being with Sidney. He touches her carefully, and my God, there is seriously something wrong with me, because all of a sudden, I’m jealous of a damn cow. “Easy, Sidney,” he says in a voice that could make my panties disappear when she begins to move.

I lower my voice to match his and ask, “Is she okay? She seems agitated.”

She’s not the only one.

“No, she’s fine. She likes this. Milking takes the pressure off and releases endorphins.”

I lean forward, plant my elbows on my knees, and put my

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