1
DOLLY
Ididn’t expect the heat to hit me so hard.
The second I stepped out of the bus, the summer sun wrapped around me like a thick, heavy blanket. The deep south heat was intense. It wasn’t anything like what I was used to with the dry heat. No, this was oppressive and humid to the point you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
Dust swirled around my shoes as I carried my bag and walked the five minutes it took to get to my uncle’s farmhouse. I rounded the corner, and his massive home loomed ahead, memories of when I was a child visiting my uncle’s place swirling in my mind.
I smiled.
I never once questioned if coming here to help Uncle Brooks was a mistake. I’d overheard my father speaking to his brother on the phone about being short of farmhands… and here I was, willing to help a family member in need.
And then I saw him.
My Uncle Brooks.
He was at the end of the long gravel driveway, his clothes covered in dust and pieces of fur, his hair and shirt soaked from sweat because he’d no doubt been working the farm all day.
He lifted a hand to his brow, wiping the sweat from it, not seeing me yet. The muscles in his arm flexed, thick and strong, catching the light in a way that made my breath catch.
He was bigger than I remembered. Broader. So muscular. His dark hair was longer now, too, the damp strands slightly curling at his nape. And God… he now sported a beard, the kind that made him look even rougher, even older.
Even better.
I was ashamed to admit I’d always had a crush on Uncle Brooks, but at first, it had only been the kind that was of admiration. He’d always been so strong, always seeming to know everything. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know.
But the last time he’d visited, when I was twenty, something had changed in me. I noticed him in a different way.
A way that was wrong.
Now, three years later, he’s all I’d been thinking about. Even when I had sex with other men, all I pictured was when Uncle Brooks came to visit and I’d found him hotter than anything else in this world.
When his head turned in my direction, his smile was instant. “Dolly.” His voice was deep carrying across the short distance, warm and gruff at the same time.
He started toward me, the heavy boots on his feet making the gravel crunch under his weight.
I swallowed, clutching the strap of my bag tighter as he got closer, until I could see the sweat sliding down the ridge of his throat. He was tan from working the fields and livestock day in and day out, a stark contrast to his damp and sweat-covered white shirt.
When I was only a couple inches before him, I inhaled deeply. The heat strengthened his scent—a combination of sweat and sun and something else that made me dizzy.
“Look at you,” he said, wiping his hand over his face once more before reaching for my bag. “All grown up, little Dolly.”
His fingers brushed mine, rough and warm, as he took my bag, sending a shiver up my arm. I tried to smile, but my lips felt numb.
“Thanks for letting me come,” I said, my voice soft, almost drowned out by the cicadas screaming in the trees.
“No, it’s all my thanks, niece, for helping your uncle on the farm.” He grinned, and it did something to me, something that had my pussy walls tightening. “You’re family darlin’. Always welcome here and not just to help.”
Family.That word sank like a stone in my stomach, reminding me exactly why the heat pooling between my thighs was wrong. This was something I shouldn’t let myself want.
But God…I wanted it bad.
* * *
That first night was relaxed.Uncle Brooks made us dinner, and we drank a beer on the porch just reminiscing about everything we’d missed out on in each other’s lives over the last few years.
Once in bed, I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling, the old quilt smelling familiar in ways I couldn’t understand.
