Jennifer was laughing as she burst through the front door of the farmhouse, shaking and stamping the water off onto the entryway tile. Carmelita came hurrying in to see what the commotion was all about, and stuttered to a halt when she spotted Jennifer.
“Did you get your car out of the mud?” she asked, her eyebrows wrinkling with concern as she took in Jenn’s appearance.
Which even Jennifer had to admit was a bit on the dirty side. Still unable to control her giggles as she shucked the oversized raincoat off her shoulders, Jennifer looked at the housekeeper.
“Nope, it’s still stuck,” she said cheerfully.
“Where is Stetson?”
“He went ‘round the back of the house. He said you’d be mad if he came through the front door.” Jennifer barely got the words out before another round of laughter overtook her.
Carmelita was completely confused.
“What is so funny about going out in the rain? And why would I care what door he comes in?”
“Because of the mess,” Stetson said, emerging from the back of the house.
Carmelita turned and Jennifer’s laughter stopped abruptly. Stetson was wearing just a pair of jeans, slung low on his hips. Jennifer’s mouth instantly went dry.
“Why are you half naked?” Carmelita demanded. “Nobody wants to see you like that.”
Speak for yourself, lady.
He was even better looking without a shirt on than Jennifer would’ve guessed. He wasn’t a gym rat, with weirdly bulging muscles all over his body, but rather, long, sleek muscles that danced over his body like trails of pleasure that Jennifer would love to follow.
But shouldn’t. Totally, absolutely shouldn’t.
Her eyes snapped to the floor instead and she kept her gaze glued there as Stetson protested, “I figured you’d want a half-naked Stetson over a muddy one.”
Carmelita harrumphed, and Jennifer bit back her laughter. She’d only been at the Miller Farm for three days, and she already knew that this was Carmelita’s way of admitting he was right, without actually saying it out loud. She might be sweet and loving, but she also had as much pride as her adopted son.
They were quite the pair, really.
“How did you become so dirty?” Carmelita asked, clearly wanting to change the topic back to the one she cared about. “You even have mud in your hair!”
Jennifer couldn’t help it – she had to look up again. Sure enough, there were streaks of mud on him where his careless swipes with a towel had missed, along with one large chunk on his chiseled cheekbone. Jennifer’s giggles returned at the housekeeper’s outraged tone of voice.
“He fell,” Jennifer managed to choke out through her laughter.
“Yeah, I fell and slid down the side of the road into the borrow pit,” he admitted with a wry grin. “My jeans, coat, and even my shirt are covered in mud. You should see the inside of my truck!” Which was when the craziness of the situation hit him as well, and he began to laugh, deep and rusty, as if he’d long ago forgotten how to.
At first, Jennifer had been horrified as she’d watched from the safety and oh-so-wonderful dryness of the truck cab as his feet had lost traction, and he’d slid down the side of the road on his ass, landing with a splash in the water running down the ditch.
But when he’d struggled to his feet and began trying to make his way back up the short incline, she’d begun to laugh. He’d been reduced to crawling on all fours up the rain-softened ditch bank that kept giving way under his weight. By the time he’d gotten back up on the road, he was completely covered in mud from head to toe, back and front. He’d looked like some bizarre mud monster from an eight-year-old boy’s dream.
“I am happy you did not cover my clean floor in mud,” Carmelita sniffed. “Now, go put some clothes on while I find something for Jennifer to wear while I wash her clothes.” Before she left, she turned back and caught Jennifer’s eye. She was smiling, her face glowing with warmth and happiness.
It suddenly struck Jenn that there had been little reason to laugh in the Miller household for a very long time. She wondered when it was that Carmelita had last seen Stetson laugh.
Probably years.
As the housekeeper’s footsteps faded away, Jennifer began twisting her hair, squeezing out a small stream of water onto the tile floor. She shouldn’t have jumped out of the cab – standing on the side of the road and watching Stetson climb the ditch bank hadn’t exactly helped him get up to the top any faster, and had only meant that in the end, she was as soaked as he was – but it’d been instinctual. Watching him struggle from the cab of the truck would’ve been cheating.
And really, after her hike through the rain back to the Miller farmhouse in the first place, she’d gotten plenty soaked on her own. Her second bath just sealed the deal.
Lifting her head, she froze. Stetson had crossed the room to stand in front of her – he was entirely too quiet for her sanity – and she realized with a stab of panic that they were alone. Her, him, and his very delicious chest. She had a hard time tearing her eyes away from his abs. She wanted to run her fingers up his chest and…
Her face grew red and she snapped her eyes up to his. She had to keep eye contact with him.
Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…
“We’ll get your car out tomorrow,” Stetson said in his low, gravelly voice that sent shivers down her spine. Or maybe it was the cold clothes and wet hair. It was hard to tell at this point. “I might have to use a tractor,” he continued, oblivious to her internal distress. Unlike her, he didn’t seem to be the least bit affected by their proximity. Or his half-naked state of being. “I don’t know what Carmelita is making for dinner, but I’m sure there’ll be enough for an army. You okay with staying here tonight?”
She couldn’t speak. Words were a thing, and they should totally be used, but she couldn’t remember how.
Her eyes locked on to his lips. They looked soft. She focused on the small wrinkles and the line of his upper lip that rose and fell. His mouth reminded her of the outline of the distant mountain range outside.
The chunk of mud on his cheek was driving her crazy. She wanted to reach up and pluck it off but she didn’t dare cross that line. Well, cross it again.
And spend the night under the same roof as this gorgeous man? Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She was pretty sure it was going to be a sleepless night of staring at the ceiling for her.
Finally, she managed to nod her head. She was quite proud of herself for being able to do that, really.
“Good. I’m gonna go take a shower – I’m sure I missed some mud somewhere. Carmelita won’t let me near the table like this,” he said and walked away, the W’s on the back pockets of his jeans bouncing up and down hypnotically as he went.
She could be the one to wash the mud from his hair and cheek. She could run her fingers through his hair and across his chiseled cheekbone…
I wonder how literal he was being when he said the jeans were the only clothing in the laundry room.
She felt her face warm in spite of the cold rainwater that still covered her.