James ended the call and stuck the phone into his pocket. He followed the crowd and, like the rest of the people, worshiped at the foot of the shiny green combine. He realized that his jaw was hanging open and snapped it shut. The older man next to him elbowed him in the ribs.
“Beaut, ain’t she?”
“She certainly is,” James said, glancing at the short, balding farmer. “You from around here?”
The man nodded, never taking his eyes off the piece of farm equipment. “I’m a Doud. My people helped settle this area. I can tell by your accent, though, you’re a Yank.”
“Yes, sir. I’m from Kansas. Been down here wandering your beautiful country for the last two months. I was hoping to find a bit of work. Do you know of anyone around here hiring cheap farm labor?”
Mr. Doud shook his head before finally tearing his gaze away from the piece of equipment to eye James. “You don’t look much like a farmer.”
James didn’t know what to say to that. “Yeah, I know, but I grew up spending summers on a farm and I’ve always loved the work.” He had an extended stay visitor visa, which allowed him to stay in the country for up to twelve months, but it didn’t allow him to work. Jamie prayed he could find some sort of manual labor that could be paid in cash.
“Only one around here that would be able to do any hiring would be Lochie McBride. He always needs help, but he’s too stubborn to hire any. You could give it a go, though.”
* * * *
With his head tipped back toward the blazing sun, Lachlan took off his Akubra hat and wiped his brow with the ever-present rag from his pocket. He resettled his hat as he regarded the blue heeler at his feet. “Going to be another scorcher today.”
The heeler jumped into the back of the ute as Lachlan climbed in. He headed toward the far paddock in hopes that he could start harvesting in the next couple of days. Without help, he’d be working sunup to sundown as it was. Lachlan cursed as he thought of one more harvest alone. He should’ve been used to it by now. He’d been on his own for going on ten years. Thinking about his dad had him cursing again. “Dammit.” Stop feeling bloody sorry for yourself. As he drove along the graveled road, he looked from side to side. As far as his eyes could see, the once colorful flowers were turning brown. It never ceased to amaze him how sad the flowers appeared when they were ready to be harvested. It was almost as if they hung their heads in shame at their vanishing beauty. Despite the lack of rain throughout most of the season, it seemed he’d grown a damn good crop. The thought of trying to harvest alone ate at him. He’d tried hiring help a time or two over the years, but he simply couldn’t stand laziness. His dad had been hard on him growing up, but he’d made Lochie into one hell of a farmer.
He’d heard from everyone around him that he’d become a selfish bastard and he was starting to believe it. How had he let himself get to this point? He was lonely. So what. A lot of people in the world were lonely. Didn’t mean he had to take his mood out on everyone around him.
As he drove, the suffocating air inside the ute prompted him to shrug out of his shirt, leaving him in only a navy blue singlet. He wiped his face and chest with the shirt before tossing it into the back. He reached over his shoulder to rub Blue’s ear. “You like me, don’t you?”
Blue licked his ear in reply.
Lochie rounded the bend and spotted a man standing in the middle of the road. “What the…?” He slowed and stopped several yards from the bloke. The large pack at the traveler’s feet told him the guy was a tourist. “Looking for work, no doubt,” he said under his breath as he turned off the engine. The stranger started toward him and smiled. Lochie’s breath hitched. “Bloody hell.”
He’d never seen a more gorgeous specimen than the one who stood in front of his battered ute. The guy was young but not too young, with black hair just long enough to curl in shiny ringlets around his face. He had the face of a god, with piercing blue eyes surrounded by long, black lashes. When Lochie took in the rest of the stranger, he had to bite back an appreciative moan. He’d always preferred a lean sinewy body to the more buffed, like his own. Lochie was brought out of his lustful haze when the guy waved and spoke.
“Hi. I’m sorry I was standing in the middle of the road. Didn’t figure a whole lot of traffic came through here.” The stranger walked to the driver’s door. He put his hand through the open window toward Lochie. “Name’s James Pattrick. Someone told me I might be able to find a bit of work at the farm down the road.”
This close, the guy was even more breathtaking. Lochie inhaled and reached for James’ hand. “Lachlan McBride. If you’ve come searching for work, I’d be the one to talk to.” He motioned toward the field of sunflowers. “You ever harvested before?” He hesitantly released James’ hand.
James rested his arms on the open window sill and gazed over his shoulder at the crop. “Not sunflowers. I’ve spent a lot of time on my granddad’s farm in western Kansas, though. I’ve helped with other crops. The last time Granddad planted sunflowers I was in college and couldn’t get away for the summer. He planted them more for soil conditioning, though.”
James smiled and Lochie noticed the twin dimples in his cheeks. Heaven help me. The man’s a wet dream. Lochie wasn’t sure if he should scare the kid off for his own good or take hold and keep him forever. “How long do you plan on staying in Oz? My crop still needs another week or so, but I have plenty of work to keep us both busy until then, if you have the time.”
Those dimples flashed again. “I promised my dad I’d be home in four months. He says it’s time I grew up and got a respectable job.” James shrugged and Lochie couldn’t help but notice the clearly defined muscles under his tight T-shirt. “Dad has his heart set on me joining his law practice.”
Lochie narrowed his eyes. “You a lawyer? Don’t really have a use for them out here.” Too bad.
Chuckling, James shook his head. “Don’t really have much use for them myself either, which is why I’m not back in Kansas City right now.” James looked over his shoulder at the field of sunflowers. “The happiest times of my life were spent on my granddad’s farm. Just believing at the end of the day I’d actually accomplished something.” James stared at his hands. “Just working with my hands and knowing that I didn’t hurt anyone in the process. That’s the kind of life I’d like to live.”
Staring at the tan, long-fingered hands in front of him, Lochie almost moaned again. The smooth skin would soon be blistered if Lochie hired him. But he knew just what the kid was saying. He’d been an engineer before he’d quit his job in Sydney to take over the family property after his father’s death. “You know how to drive a combine?” He looked from James’ hands to his face. He was pleased to see another smile.
“Yes, sir.”
“Pay’s not much. Room and board. A little left over to go into town on Saturday night. Off Sundays.”
James started bouncing. “Sounds good, sir.”
“Name’s Lachlan but you can call me boss or Lochie.” Lochie reached over and opened the passenger door. “Get your pack and we’ll give it a burl.”
James looked at him kind of funny and bounced over to get his backpack. Once he tossed the pack into the back of the ute, he climbed onto the passenger seat. James bit his lip and glanced at Lochie. “What’s a ‘burl’?”
Lochie laughed for the first time in what felt like ages. He reached over and ruffled James’ soft black curls. “It means we’ll try it, kid.”
Smiling, James nodded. “Not a kid, though. Be twenty-seven on my next birthday.” He cleared his throat. “You?”
“Forty-one, so you’re still a kid to me.” He softened the remark with a grin.
* * * *
James followed Lochie up the porch steps while trying his best not to stare at the muscular ass in front of him. “I’ve been staying in hostels, when I can find them, but I’ve spent quite a few nights sleeping on park benches, so an actual bed will feel like heaven.”
Lochie opened the screen door. “You
low on money?”
Lochie let the screen door slap shut. “Follow me.”
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About the Author
An avid reader for years, one day Carol Lynne decided to write her own brand of erotic romance. Carol juggles between being a full-time mother and a full-time writer. These days, you can usually find Carol either cleaning jelly out of the carpet or nestled in her favorite chair writing steamy love scenes.
Email: carol@carol-lynne.net
Carol loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.pride-publishing.com.
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