chin in my palm, impressed by his concern and knowledge. “You know a lot about all this, huh?”
“It’s what I was born to do.”
“I don’t know what I was born to do,” I say without thinking. I straighten my back. What the hell did I say that for? This man does not need to know how much of a screwup I am.
“Here in the valley, farms are handed down from generation to generation. It’s the way it’s always been and the way it will always be.”
“Wait, do you run the farm?” I ask and jerk my thumb toward his property.
“We lost Dad about five years ago. I’ve been running the place ever since.”
I do the math and realize he had a lot of responsibility placed on him at a young age. “I’m sorry about your dad, Jay,” I say and, without thinking, put my hand on his arm. His breath shifts, becomes a bit labored as my hand lingers, and he nods slowly.
“Thanks. My brothers help, when I can drag their lazy asses out of bed,” he says like he’s working to lighten the mood, but it’s easy to tell he loves his brothers. I like that.
“What if you didn’t want to be a farmer, though? What if you wanted to do something else?” My hands flop open, palms up. “Something…different.” His brow furrows, and the muscles in his jaw tense as he turns from me. Wait, did I touch a sore spot? Insult him unknowingly? “I just mean, what if you wanted to write a book or something?” I say quickly.
“You want to write a book?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, but what if farming wasn’t for you? What if you wanted to live in the city?”
“I get that farming isn’t for you, and not everyone likes the city.”
“What’s not to like? I mean, shopping, museums, Broadway, concerts, cafes, espresso.” His expression is less than impressed. I frown at him. “You don’t like the city?”
“No.” After a long moment of silence he adds, “What is it you do, Alyson? What did you do before coming here?”
As he turns the conversation back to me, my insides tighten. “I was…sort of in between things,” I say and leave it at that. “So, what’s next?” I ask and focus on the udder.
The man beside me is smart, smart enough to realize I’ve redirected. Leaving my secrets to me, he grips the teat. “You hold your thumb and index finger here, like this,” he says, instructing me. “You don’t yank, but you pull gently. Watch how I do it.” Milk squirts into the tin bucket, and I smile, appreciating his help. He does it a few more times, and I study him carefully. “Not so bad, huh?”
“Can I try?”
My enthusiasm seems to surprise him, judging by the widening of his eyes and the raising of his brow. “Yeah?”
“Sure.”
He shifts his stool over, and I grip the bottom of mine to better position myself, but my stupid heel twists, and I fall forward and crack my knee on the barn floor and my face on Sidney’s side. She moos at me.
“Ouch,” I whine, as pain shoots through me.
Strong hands wrap around my waist and lift until I’m back on my stool. “Are you hurt?”
His gaze moves over my skinned knee, but it’s hard to think as his scent lingers before my face. The open air, fresh soap…man. I work to ignore the heat settling between my legs.
“Just my pride, not that I really have any left.” I snort. “In the twenty-four hours I’ve known you, I’ve fallen into the water, face-planted in the mud, and fallen off a milking stool three apples high. I guess you’ve now officially seen me at my worst.” A grin flirts with the corner of his mouth and arouses me in ways my body refuses to ignore. But ignore it I must. “This…this you find funny?” I roll my eyes. “Farmers have the weirdest sense of humor.”
“If this is your worst, I can’t even imagine your best,” he says, his voice low and a bit gruff.
Good lord, girl, no need to get all tingly inside because he said something nice.
“Did you just compliment me?”
“What, you’re not used to compliments?” His brow raises. “I somehow doubt that. I’m sure you get numerous compliments in the run of a day, Alyson.”
When are you going to do something with your life?