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Chickens, literal feathered and clucking chickens—not the primed-for-roasting-at-375-degrees kind—were not at all what my Monday needed. But apparently the universe had noted my foul mood and sent fowl.
Finn was broad with acres of biceps and muscular forearms poking out of rolled-up, plaid shirtsleeves. Oz hadn’t been wrong at all. This was easily one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. He looked like something out of an antique farming ad, from his build right down to his dusty boots. “Uh…” I made an inarticulate sound at odds with my years of education. And as I scraped my jaw off the floor, his deep scowl overshadowed his attractiveness. Hot chicken farmer was hot angry chicken farmer, and it was all directed at me. “What are you doing to my chickens?”
And Harrison Fletcher’s attractiveness didn’t have a single thing to do with my decision. Yes, I’d seen the rainbows on their door, but that didn’t necessarily indicate anything about Fletcher personally. Not that I cared. I’d bring the guy a thank-you and be on my way back to reminding myself that sexy, rich, and older was not my type. Not even a little bit.
Hot chicken farmers had no place in my mental real estate. I had a biography section to arrange. Not to mention, I had Mom’s handiwork in the children’s area to admire and Oz to supervise. There was absolutely no point in remembering how Finn’s muscles had flexed as he’d hefted the boxes of chickens and strode away, his rear a view worthy of a denim ad campaign.
“Did you forget a bird?” The horror of that idea had me opening the door wide and ushering him in.
“Okay.” He smiled back, and everything else faded away, the cutouts decorating the end cap, the rows of books, even the dimming late afternoon sun. Finn’s smile was like his laugh, easy and genuine, and as our eyes met, a low, potent ball of energy gathered in my gut. And maybe Finn felt it too because his voice turned huskier. “You like books like this too? I would have figured you for more literary tastes.”
“No pleasures should be guilty.” Finn’s smile turned a lot more mischievous, and that energy inside me turned to heat. I didn’t agree, of course, but I did have a certain admiration for free-spirited hedonists.
Finn stopped by a muddy fenced-in area on the side of the barn that housed the largest pig I’d ever seen and what looked to be over a dozen wriggling piglets, some pink, but also some spotted gray like the mother. They didn’t bear a lot of resemblance to the pigs in the picture books Mom had delighted in reading to me as a child. In contrast to the mother, who was almost larger than my first Manhattan apartment, each piglet was smaller than a loaf of bread.
“I usually only make things for family and friends,” I hedged. “How does one get to be a friend?”
He’d rolled up his sleeves, and I kept getting distracted by his magnificent forearms. Big, built guys were not my usual flavor at all, but Finn was like a loaded burger after years of poached fish, a craving I couldn’t seem to shut off.
“That’s nine inches?” My head tilted as I considered one of the lines he’d drawn. “Huh.” “Has porn warped your sense of proportions?” Finn’s laugh was mischievous
“Some things feel…private. It’s not that I’m ashamed. I’m…” “Buttoned up tight. And all I’m saying is you could undo a collar button or two. Life might be more fun.”
“What’s next?” Harrison was so serious that I wasn’t sure whether he meant us or the shelf project, but I couldn’t resist messing with him a little. “Screwing,” I deadpanned. Predictably, Harrison made a sputtering noise. “Pardon?” “With a drill, Harry.” I held up the trusty cordless I’d retrieved. “With a drill.”
Finn was waiting for me. It was sweet of him to act like I was anything other than a sure thing, for him to let me pretend to be in charge of this attraction between us. We both knew better. He was in the driver’s seat, and I was merely along for the ride down unfamiliar country roads. I still didn’t want—or rather couldn’t have—a relationship. But a kiss?
He kissed like we had all the time in the world, like a Sunday brunch with bottomless mimosas and no deadlines.
Finally, right when death by waiting seemed like a serious prospect, he swept his tongue into my mouth, hot and insistent, and I was most assuredly staying alive for more.
“Oh.” Her mouth fell open before she started laughing. “Sorry. Forgot you had…company tonight. For woodworking.” “Really, Rachel?” Finn groaned as he gently untangled our bodies.
“You’re saying I was your reward?” That thought made a warm buzz spread across my chest. “Yeah, I’m surprised too, trust me.” Finn laughed, but there was something else there too, an edge to his voice that I wasn’t sure I liked.
“Nothing that dramatic. But it was early one morning, sunrise coming up, that season’s chicks flapping around, light catching the farm stand barn just so. And it hit me that I hadn’t really seen anything in months. I’d been so deep in my head that I was missing my chance to see clearly in the present. I couldn’t keep living in the murky future.”
It wasn’t simply that I wanted Harrison in my bed. I wanted to see him live, wanted to see his face when we unleashed the ducklings, wanted to see who he could be if he dared to let himself hope for something beyond simply existing.
“They’re not pets. I don’t romanticize what they are. They’re bred for a purpose, and the way I see it, it’s my responsibility to give them the best life I can, to respect their place in the food chain, to educate others on what ethical meat production looks like. I do the best I can, same as all the farmers before me, and then at the end of the day, I make my peace with it.”
“Give me the tour,” I demanded when he finally let me up for air. “You want a tour?” Eyes glassy and lips damp, Finn looked as dazed as I felt. I liked being the one to befuddle him for a change. “Start with the bedroom.”
I liked kissing him and getting him naked, which wasn’t surprising, but I truly enjoyed hanging out fully clothed with him too, and that was something of a surprise.
We’d both spent a long, hot day in the July sun, and I didn’t know about Finn, but the things I had in mind as stress relief for him went better with a little advanced thinking.
“If you’re in this thing with me, if what you feel for me is real, then be here. Be here now. Regardless of what the test results say. Be all in, not one foot out the door.”
