by Ali Parker
"You can set your stuff down there, for the moment." Momma was bustling toward the visitor, as bile rose in my throat. I was overreacting. I always did.
I have to know. Wiping my hands on the dishtowel, I turned around and steeling myself to remain calm and show nothing, no matter what.
There he stood, over six feet tall and sculpted, like a statue of a Greek hero in marble. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin that boasted a sprinkling of freckles over a straight nose. His chest pressed against his t-shirt and the boyish smile on his face for sure melted my panties. I couldn’t find words to speak if I had to. The damn house could catch on fire and I would stand there and burn – frozen in time.
Jeremy Thompson.
No, no, no. Anyone but him. I turned to face the sink and started to rewash dishes that had already been washed. It was a bad dream. No, a nightmare. The mother of all nightmares. I glanced over my shoulder, unable to help myself. A yelp left me and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
He stood right behind me, my shoulder brushing by his chest as I turned again. The smile on his wickedly hot mouth drew my attention away.
"Hey there, Chrissy." His voice was deep and smooth, so much more of a man than a boy.
It had been the summer when I’d turned thirteen, the first summer Jeremy had helped with the baling. Back then he'd lived down the road so he hadn't needed to stay on the farm at night, but he'd spent most of his days in their fields.
I had spent too many hours in the shadows watching the sweat roll off his shirtless body and down into the confines of his tight wrangler jeans. It became more than a crush as I got older. More a yearning to know what it felt like to be his, to belong to him – physically.
Unfortunately, he had never seemed even slightly interested in me. The reality of that point along brought me back to my senses. I narrowed my eyes and gave him a curt nod, before returning to the dishes.
"We were just finishing up, but there's plenty of food left on the stove if you want to help yourself." Mother pulled a clean plate out of the cabinet and handed it to him while I pretended to be enthralled with cleaning up from dinner.
I wish I had worn something else. Jeans and a shirt or overalls. Anything but this damn yellow dress. It was pretty, but almost see through. I needed to change. I had grown into a woman and had the curves to prove it. Not that anyone noticed. Useless waist of fat.
"Don't mind if I do, ma'am," Jeremy said and my stomach tightened.
Damn his deep velvet voice. Why does he have to bring his seductive bedroom voice around here to violate innocent ears? He knows what he’s doing. Pompous ass.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him fix up his plate. It towered with green beans, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy and a mountain of mashed potatoes. It was hardly fair that he was more attractive now than five years ago. He used to be fine, but now he was sexy, blistering hot.
“I guess we’ll call you the cleanup crew?” I muttered, glancing at him as he chuckled.
“Yeah. I’m happy to clean up when you guys are done. I swear I eat more now than when we were kids.” He chuckled as my mother popped my butt with a towel.
“Leave the boy alone. I’ll cook more if he wants more to eat.”
“Yeah, leave the boy alone. He’s still growing.” Jeremy winked at me and I turned, hoping like hell he didn’t notice the dark shade of red I was certainly turning. Why was I such a wuss in front of this boy? We were nothing to each other.
"When you're done eating, I'll show you where you can put your stuff. We're a little short on space, so you'll be sleeping on the trundle bed in Christina's room." My mother moved up beside me and took the towel out of my hand.
"What?" I yelled, dropping a pan back into the water where it clattered against the dishes in the sink and splashed my dress with water. "My room?"
"With the door open, of course." Daddy walked back in and took a seat. "Jeremy Thompson is a respectable boy. You ain't the type to disrespect my house and disregard my rules, are you boy?"
Jeremy swallowed nervously but shook his head. "No sir."
"Daddy, I need my space." I moved to the table and tried to wipe at my dress. If it was see through before, it was transparent due to the water now.
I glanced at Jeremy who seemed stuck between trying to convince my father that he wasn’t a total scoundrel and getting a good luck at my dress just in case my panties were on display.
It was ridiculous. If I was going to stay far away from Jeremy during his stay for the summer, then I needed a private retreat. It wouldn't work if the one person I needed to hide away from was sharing my damn bedroom.
"Don't be selfish, Christina. I don't know what's got your tail up, but this is how it's gonna be, like it or lump it." My father lifted his brow and that was it. Final say.
I'd tell you what's got my tail up, old man, if you wouldn't think about tanning my hide for admitting to impure thoughts. I growled and walked back to the sink, starting to wash the last two bowls remaining. I succeeded in cracking one bowl, nearly losing a fork down the disposal, and pretty much soaking the rest of my dress by the time it was over.
Great, so this is the kind of summer I have to look forward to. Aren't I a lucky girl?
Jeremy moved in beside me, pressing his shoulder to the back of mine and smiling as I looked toward him. "I got one more for you."
I narrowed my eyes again and side-stepped. He might be comfortable being close to someone, but I wasn’t. Being close was for family and lovers and he was neither. "Gee, thanks a lot. Let me get right on that."
“When you’re done… I have something else you might want to think about getting on.” He smirked and I scoffed.
“Not in a million years.” I turned back to the sink as heat tore through the center of me. I would be naked in a New York minute if I believed he wanted me.
“Don’t like motorcycles?” He tilted his head, his face showing clear confusion.
I ignored him, feeling like a fucking idiot all of a sudden. Of course he was talking about a bike, and here I figured he was referring to his cock. Silly me.
Daddy stood up and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as I turned and pressed my back to the sink. He no longer smoked a pack a day, but he couldn't give the habit up entirely. He currently smoked once a day, after dinner, and headed for the door to have his nightly treat.
"Christina, go show him where he'll be sleeping," he said, gesturing towards Jeremy. "Make him feel welcomed."
"As welcomed as an outhouse breeze," I mumbled softly. Jeremy glanced at me, his face tightening.
"Grab your stuff, cowboy," I said, my tone deadpan. Walking down the hall, I turned and slipped into the room on the left, flipping on the light and waiting for the sexy bastard to come in. All those years of wishing that Jeremy Thompson was in my room and now I would rather brush my teeth with superglue than have him sleeping in the same room with me.
I paused at the door, letting him go through as I swept my arm outward to indicate the room. "Welcome to your palatial estate, my lord. Don't touch my things."
I turned away and headed through the front room and out on the porch, leaving the Thompson twit to deal with his own stuff.
Why did it have to be Jeremy? Sure, all the Thompson brothers were annoying in some way or another, but Jeremy was the worst.
He'd once been the best of them, her favorite person in the world. Until she'd revealed her feelings and he'd laughed.
He laughed. Did he even remember doing it? He didn’t seem like the same pompous ass she grew up with, but there would be no giving him the benefit of the doubt. Probably a game he was playing. Well, I wasn’t interested.
I glanced up at the stars and tried to breathe through my anger thanks to his rejection years before still eating at me. It was alright though. Anger was safe. Anger meant I didn't have to feel what was hiding underneath. Embarrassment and rejection and shame.
The screen door bounced against the hinges and I
looked up. There he was with his dark blue eyes and messy hair. Damn if his jeans didn’t fit him perfectly too. That bulge Margie mentioned seemed bigger than when we were kids. I glanced back up at the sky, not wanting him to think for a minute that I thought anything of him.
"What crawled up your ass and died, Chrissy?"
There's that name again. "My name is Christina, and I'll thank you to use it."
"But we always called you Chrissy.”
"Yeah, 'Pissy Chrissy. I remember it fondly. Now if you would kindly fuck off-"
"Whoa," he said, moving in closer. He sat down beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of it causing me to stay still as I tried to ignore him. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't deserve this kind of treatment."
"You don't?" I couldn’t quite keep the sneer from taking over my face. He doesn't even remember what he did. Talk about an asshole!
"Look," he said, his grip on her shoulder tightening. "If we're gonna be bunking together, we're gonna have to get along."
"You look," I said, slapping his hand away. "I'm not interested in getting along, and I'm not interested in bunking together. So you can just get that thought out of your head right now!"
"Your Pa said--"
"I don't give two farts for what my dad said. I'm sleeping alone."
I got up and burst into the house, stomping down the hallway to my room and hating myself the whole time I was doing it. I grabbed his heavy duffel bag and dragged it down the hall to the spare room where my three cousins were staying. There was a pull-out sofa bed and an old army surplus cot. It wasn’t going to kill him to sleep on the floor. He had tons of padding. Those muscles needed to be used for something besides taking up space.
"What are you doing?" Jeremy asked, coming up the hall.
"He's in here with you guys," I said, dropping the duffel as my cousins watched with three identical confused expressions. "And if ya'll tell my dad, I'll tell him about last summer when you stole his truck and took Jeannie and Sally Sue out necking by the lake."
Jeremy walked into the room, his hands on his hips. "What's gonna stop me from telling your dad?"
I turned and pinned him with a stare that had his eye go wide. "You can tell him, and he can make me let you sleep in my room, but you better sleep with one eye open because I'll be taking my revenge."
Willy whistled, as Hank started a slow clap, but I didn’t pay those fool a bit of attention. I turned on my heel and headed back to my room, cursing myself the whole way. I almost had Jeremy Thompson in my room and now I’ve ruined it and for what?
He jogged along the hallway and pulled me to a stop, spinning me around. "I don't know what game you're playing at--"
"None. I wouldn't bother to play a game with you. It wouldn't be fair, because you'd never be able to win. You'd have no more chance than a June bug in the chicken coop."
I picked up his blanket from inside my room and chucked it at him before slamming the door. His laugh was sardonic, but still somehow delightful. I stifled a groan at just having him near and walked away, falling on my bed as he had to have the last word.
“We’ll see, Christina. We’ll see.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I ignored him as best I could for three days straight. I played sick, hiding in my room, asking momma to bring me meals there, and saying that I’d caught some summer flu bug.
On the fourth day my mom had met her limit. She walked in with a thermometer and shoved it into my mouth. "Okay, young lady, this has gone on long enough. Your temperature is fine, I haven't heard you cough, and whatever bug you got sure ain't interfered with your appetite. So it's time to stop ducking work and get out in the fields."
I sighed and got up. “Mom, why is Jeremy here?”
“Is this what that’s all about? We have a good looking boy at the house and you’re losing your mind? You should have dated more in high school, girl. You can’t let him get to you. That’s what boys want to do. Put on your pants and get your ass out in the fields. If you want to matter to him, do what smart women do. Make him think that he doesn’t matter.” She popped my butt and walked out.
I pulled on a pair of old jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt while coaching myself. I could do this. Grabbing my ancient ball cap, I tucked my long blond hair up into it just to keep it out of the way. There was no reason to try and look feminine. We would all be sweaty and exhausted by the end of the day.
I walked out into the kitchen and gave my mother a look.
“Don’t look at me like that. You better put that boy’s stuff back in your room too. Don’t think your daddy is going to be happy with you being rude to the Thompson boy. I don’t care how you feel about him. You’ll follow our rules. You got it?”
I had never heard her be so stern. I nodded and headed out to the east field where I knew the guys were working today. I would let him back in the room, but I wasn’t saying anything to him. No matter what he said.
Except he hadn't said anything to me yet. He'd slept on the floor in the spare room and hadn't complained to my daddy obviously. Some part of me was a little disappointed that he hadn't fought a little harder to stay in my room?
You did threaten him, you idiot. Uggh, I so don't need this right now. I'm supposed to be focusing on college, not on an irritating, and irritatingly handsome, houseguest.
I came over the short hill that overlooked the east field and saw the group of men hard at work. Daddy drove the tractor to mow down the grass, as the young men followed behind him to arrange the cuttings into rows for curing. The next step would be turning the cut grass until it dried. That part was the worst. It always made me so damn itchy.
I headed down the hill and made my way up behind the tractor, pitching in when I reached the group. I had only worked for a few minutes before my father stopped the tractor and hopped down.
"Nice of you to show up," he said, but softened his words with a smile. "Now I got an errand for you."
"I just got here," I whined. Still, an errand probably wouldn't itch as much as this...
"Your graceful cousin Hank over there managed to spill the entire water supply when he tripped over the damn thing and didn't realize all the water was draining out of it."
Eddie laughed at his younger brother, who had the decency to look sheepish. "Hank's so clumsy, he could fall up a tree."
Willy laughed and slapped his older brother on the back. "Good one, bro."
I chuckled, unable to help myself. I glanced toward Jeremy who hadn’t stopped working yet. His jeans were dark with sweat and his shirt was long gone. Of course.
I turned my attention back to my father as he pointed at the blue water cooler bottle. There was only an inch of water or so left in the bottom. He usually brought out a big water cooler bottle that held five gallons into the field each day for the workers to fill their cups with. It was barely 10 am and it was already 90 degrees. Staying hydrated was crucial.
"Go fill that up and bring it back."
"Yes, sir." I tried to keep my emotions under wraps seeing that he hadn’t busted me for kicking Jeremy out. The cooler was heavy, weighing a little over forty pounds, and when it was full it wasn't going to be fun to carry back the quarter mile to the field.
Oh well, I've done it before. Plenty of times. And it has a convenient handle. Thank the Lord for small favors.
I grunted softly as I picked up the bottle and headed back to the house.
"I'm gonna go in for a minute too," Jeremy said behind me.
I slowed my steps, listening, but not quite understanding why he would help me. Maybe he wasn’t going to. Maybe the asshole just wanted to walk to the house beside me, refusing to help. That sounded more his style, especially since I had been nothing but a peach to him.
"I need to grab my...uh...sunblock."
The other boy’s laughed loudly. "Sun block?"
"It's too dang hot out here to wear a shirt," Jeremy retorted.
"And...?" Eddie drawled.
"And
I don't want skin cancer, asshole. I'll be right back."
Jeremy jogged, catching up to me as my heart began beating painfully against my ribs. Panic overwhelmed me and I picked up my pace, forgetting all about the heavy-ass cooler on my shoulder.
"Slow down, wouldja? Give an old man a break. My muscles are all stiff from sleeping on a hard floor every night."
"Good," I whispered under my breath, but didn’t slow down.
"Thanks," he said when he pulled up beside me. He smiled as if trying to make amends, but it did nothing but send tingles down to my girl parts and piss me off more. Damn body would betray me every time where he was concerned.
Why do I still want him so damn bad? He rejected me and made me look like a fool in front of half the school. I need to let this go. Hot is one thing, but being a total jerk isn’t going to fly.
Funny how I couldn’t seem to quite convince myself that he was still the jerk he was in high school.
"Glad to see you're feeling better," Jeremy said. "I was worried that you'd come down with something serious."
I ignored him and shifted the cooler to the other shoulder, blocking my view of him.
I was sick alright. With blufferitis thanks to that damn bulge in your pants and that sexy smile on your perfect face.
"Are you really not gonna talk to me all this time? Cuz if you keep this up, I'm gonna start filling in your half of the conversation too. And I'm gonna use a silly voice for you. You’re not gonna like it."
I wanted to smile, but I held it back. Barely.
"Okay, you asked for it." He coughed, then stated in his normal voice, "Christina, I'm glad you're not sick anymore."
His voice rose several octaves and he took on a strange, rollicking intonation contour. "Why thank you, Mr. Thompson. I'm feeling much better actually."
That was it. I tucked my head down as best I could and stopped, letting the cooler cover me for a minute. I dropped the smile and lowered the cooler, handing it to him. I half expected him to tell me to fuck off, but he simply took it and started walking to the house, using his antics to try and break my silence.