I felt like an idiot when I cut my hand. I knew I should have been wearing gloves when I was working on the fence, but I was in a hurry.
Determined to... Oh my God, this is embarrassing. But I guess I wanted to show Jasper I could handle farm work on my own.
And then I cut the hell out of my finger, and he had to take care of me, all while looking at me like I’m the world’s most incompetent idiot. And to top it all off, we had to run into the girl of his dreams at the pharmacy.
The way he looked at her . . .
I need to get a grip.
I don’t care how Jasper looks at his future little wifey. I don’t. Just because we made each other come, doesn’t mean I own him. They’re going to make perfect little babies someday, and I’ll be off living my life, traveling and experiencing shit that has nothing to do with money or social status.
This is just a brief moment in time. Something I’ll look back on asthat one summer.
But at dinner the other night, when he brought me back from getting the shot—something shifted again. Something I can’t really explain. Sitting at the dinner table with Jasper, my aunt, my uncle, and my cousin—reliving farm-wound war stories. Shit. I don’t even want to think about it.
It’s nothing I’ve experienced before, and I realize it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual family dinner. I felt loved and cared for. And honestly, the emotions are just eating at me.
It’s gross. And I don’t know how to deal.
My finger has healed because it really wasn’t that bad at all. And even just two days later, I’ve lost the bandage, and there’s barely even a scar. But it’s one hundred degrees at six in the evening, and the day is catching up with me.
I’m wearing gloves and a hot-ass flannel shirt on over my T-shirt and sweating my ass off. I don’t know where Jasper wandered off to, but all I know is I’m hot, sweaty, and dirty, and the pond is looking pretty nice right about now.
I miss swimming.
But I wasn’t kidding that the thought of not being able to see the bottom of the pond freaks me the hell out. But I look around and see a whole lot of nothing, then look back at the glistening water.
Fuck it.
I can do this.
Just long enough to cool down, so I can finish up the rest of the chores before dinner. I kick off the borrowed boots I’ve been wearing and then take off the hot flannel, tossing them to the side.
Then I quickly strip out of the rest of my clothes, putting them all in a pile and walking to the edge of the pond. How does Jasper do this? It is kind of pretty though. The water not totally still, but calm.
I better get in before Kelly shows up. I don’t really need the trauma of my aunt getting an eyeful.
I walk forward, feeling the mud under my feet and the warm water licking at my toes. Okay, it’s not too bad. The mud is actually pretty soft. I walk further into the water. It’s warmed from the sun, but a hell of a lot cooler than it is outside, cooling my heated skin as I walk in until I’m waist deep.
It creeps me out, thinking about all the creatures that could be lurking around in the water that I can’t see, but I can’t lie that it feels good too. I sink in further, leaning my head back and soaking up the sun on my face as I dip my hair in the water.
It’s getting longer, but there’s no time for a haircut, and the water feels nice, soaking the strands.
“What the hell are you doing?” I jump and splash, nearly drowning myself before I gain control and look over to where Jasper is standing, looking pretty amused with himself, his arms folded over his chest.
“Going for a swim?” I don’t know why it came out as a question. He’s not really my boss, and I don’t answer to him just because Kelly asked him to show me around the first day I was here.
“That so?” There’s a playfulness to his question, amusement on his handsome face. And I just stare in shock as he removes his boots and then his flannel shirt.
My heart hammers in my chest as I watch him undress. I lick my dry lips when he shoves out of his underwear and jeans. I didn’t get a good look at his dick in the motel, obviously, since we never got out of our jeans, but I can see it now.
Half hard and already long and thick before he walks confidently into the water, wading over to me. “Thought you didn’t swim where you couldn’t see the bottom.”
I swim out a little further, and he follows me. Neither of us can touch here, and we tread water only inches apart. “I don’t.”
“So what changed your mind?” He seems relaxed for him. Almost calm. Far from the shitty mood he was in the other day when I cut my finger.
“It’s hot,” I answer honestly but leave out the part about how peaceful he looked when I saw him swimming. Maybe I wanted to feel that too. We’re not as different as I first thought.
