My thoughts took me past the chickens, which I then fed because I’d forgotten to do it before I’d started mowing.
They flapped their wings in excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Y’all are insatiable,” I told them as I went to collect the eggs. “Twenty-one. Four of you are freeloaders,” I said to the chickens, who didn’t even acknowledge me.
I’d just made it onto the back porch when Tinkerbelly, Tobias’ dog, whined too.
“Shit,” I said. “Let me put these up and I’ll come right back and feed you.”
The dog looked at me like she didn’t believe me, but I was back in a split second, a scoop of dog food in her bowl for her.
“There you go,” I cooed, rubbing her head with an affectionate hand.
She didn’t seem to notice, too busy eating her food to realize that I was even there anymore.
Rolling my eyes and standing up, I stretched out my sore muscles, and walked back into the house, only to find Tobias staring blankly at the wall.
“Tobias?”
“You do too much around here,” he said.
I snorted and walked to the fridge where my glass of cold water sat waiting for me.
“I do what needs to be done,” I told him. “And I like doing it. I got twenty-one eggs today. I think that’s my favorite part of the day.”
He gave me an irritated look.
“I don’t think you signed up for this,” he snapped. “Just look at me. I haven’t accomplished a goddamned thing in over a month.”
“At least you’re making headway in finding the woman your brother might’ve gotten pregnant,” I pointed out.
He grunted. “Narrowing it down to three ladies isn’t really much of an accomplishment.”
He gave me a look that clearly said I wasn’t helping.
“I’m a fuckin’ invalid.”
I looked at him, really looked at him, and started laughing.
“You’re still in excellent fucking shape,” I told him, walking toward him seductively, dropping an article of clothing each time I took a step. His eyes watched me rapturously. “You may not be able to do any legs for a few more weeks yet, but your arms are getting downright massive. Every single time you move your wrist, this bulging muscle in your forearm starts to pop.”
I placed my finger on the bulging muscle in question. “Every time you scratch your back, this muscle right here,” I touched a fingertip to his triceps. “Bunches and releases. It’s one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.”
He inhaled deeply, and I started to strip.
Once I was finished, I moved around his front once again, letting him see my eyes. “And your pecs,” I touched my finger to his chest, bringing it sideways to run over the top of his chest. “It’s nearly impossible to see this bulge without jumping onto your thighs and fucking you like I want to; so badly that it hurts right here.”
I picked up his hand and placed it on my now unclothed pussy. “It hurts, Tobias.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?” he rumbled. “I wasn’t the one keeping you away. You were.”
And then I found myself in his lap.
My earlier desire wasn’t a lie. I wanted him so badly that it hurt.
What I did not want to do was put any pressure whatsoever on his leg or thigh where he had multiple bullets tear through him.
“I can’t,” I moaned, moving away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
His growl was downright angry.
“If you don’t get over here, I’ll literally fucking leave.”
I snorted and walked to the shower. A cold one sounded mighty fine right now.
I’d called his bluff. I knew he wouldn’t leave. First off, he had no way to leave. Secondly, he wouldn’t get a ride from his family, because they were under strict orders from me to not enable his disobedient behavior in any way.
Turning the shower on as cold as I could stand it, I stepped in and stifled a scream as the cool water hit my overheated skin.
Although Tobias’ tractor had a cover shielding me from the sun, it wasn’t enough to stop the heat, dirt and grime from sticking to me. I had dirt caked on my arms and legs.
Who knew that bush hogging a pasture was such dirty work?
“If you don’t get out of there right now, and come over here and take care of this, I’ll walk out of this house right now and leave my crutches behind.”
My eyes opened and narrowed. “No, you will not. You have two more weeks on those puppies, and you’re not fucking it up right now just because you’re horny!”
His eyes seemed to spark fire. “I wouldn’t be in this situation right now if you hadn’t worked me all up, getting me this hard,” he squeezed the bulge in his knit shorts, “And then left me high and dry.”
Literally.
“Tommy said no sex for six weeks,” I stated. “He’s adamant that any exertion on your part could possibly strain the stitches that were put in. If you fuck this up, you might not recover fully.”
He shrugged. “At this point, I don’t fucking care.”
I threw the bar of soap at him.
“You better fucking care!” I snapped. “You can’t chase after our kid if you lose your fucking foot.”
His eyes widened, his ire taking a back seat to surprise for a few moments. “You’re saying you’re pregnant?”
I shook my head. “No. But I will be one day. How are you going to teach our kids how to run and play in the ocean, or ride a freakin’ bike, if you catch another infection in the bone like you had when you were in the hospital? That could’ve been so much worse than you think, Tobias. I’m a nurse. I’m not stupid. This shit scares the absolute hell out of me, and I don’t want to see you in any more pain.”
He was right back to angry.
“I didn’t ask you to stay.”
The next thing to go sailing at him was my travel-sized bottle of lotion that I put on once I’d dried myself off.
Why it was in the shower, I didn’t know, but it was, so I’d used it.
It hit him on the shoulder.
“Fuck, ouch, that hurt.” He rubbed his muscle, and there went the need that started to race through my veins again. “Don’t be such a b…”
I threw the cap to my razor next.
It was a tiny plastic thing, but it hit him in the cheek.
His eyes narrowed.
“I know you weren’t about to call me a bitch.”
“If the shoe fits…”
I growled at him. Literally growled.
“You’re such a douchebag lately. Do you know that?” I screeched, splashing him with water.
His eyes stayed locked on mine. Both of us so angry that our breath was heaving our chests.
“Marry me!”
Those words, out of his mouth, were enough to freeze the bottle of shampoo that’d been in my hand—the one I’d been about to send sailing straight at his head if he wasn’t careful with what he had to say next.
That’s when I started to laugh.
“You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head.
“I am as far from joking as I can be right now,” he informed me. “I’ve been an ass. I know I’ve been an ass. I hate seeing you walk in, sweaty and tired, from doing the stuff that I should be doing.”
My ire disappeared.
“I like mowing,” I told him. “And I was listening to an audio book the entire time, and really didn’t want to stop what I was doing, but I was finished. So you see me hot and sweaty, but I truly had fun. I’d never lie about that.”