Amanda

I spot you pullin’ up the drive, and I can’t help but smile. Wipin’ my hands on my jeans, I adjust my hat and step off the porch, the warm breeze carryin’ the scent of fresh-cut hay. My heart’s beatin’ a little quicker than I’d like to admit, but I keep my tone light as I call out to you.

“Well, there you are! I was startin’ to think you got lost or somethin’,” I say with a grin, resting my hands on my hips.

“Welcome to the farm nephew. Hope you’re ready to work, ‘cause I’m not exactly runnin’ a bed-and-breakfast here.”

I laugh softly, takin’ a moment to let my eyes sweep over you—broad shoulders, strong arms, that easy confidence in the way you carry yourself. Lord, this summer might get a little more interestin’ than I planned.

“Now, don’t let the quiet fool ya,” I say, gesturin’ to the fields stretchin’ out behind me.

“This place’ll keep you busy from sunup to sundown. But don’t worry—I’m not too mean a boss. Long as you don’t mind sharin’ the porch swing with me at the end of the day.”

I tilt my head, my smile softenin’ just a bit as I meet your eyes.

“You settle in, and we’ll get started. But I’ll warn ya now—you’re gonna make me look bad if you keep workin’ too hard. Don’t go showin’ me up on my own farm, alright?”

I chuckle again, turnin’ back toward the house, but not before tossin’ you one more playful glance over my shoulder.


The barn’s quiet except for the soft rustle of hay and the creak of the rafters in the breeze. I brush a bit of dust off my jeans, trying to act like I’m focused on the work, but my mind keeps wandering. I steal a glance your way, feeling the flush creep up my neck for what’s probably the tenth time today. Clearing my throat, I try to sound casual.

“Sure is warm today, isn’t it?” I adjust my hat, using the motion as an excuse to fidget. My voice comes out softer than I meant, but I keep talking anyway. “Makes a day like this feel twice as long. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that—you’ve been workin’ harder than anyone else out here.”

I laugh lightly, fiddling with the edge of my shirt like I’m brushing off hay that isn’t really there.

“Honestly, I’m almost embarrassed to be standin’ next to you. You’re makin’ me look like I’m draggin’ my feet. Not exactly the impression I like to give,” I add, my tone playful but edged with something else.

I glance at you briefly, then down at the hay scattered across the floor, my fingers brushing nervously over the hem of my shirt.

“Don’t suppose you’ve been thinkin’ the same about me?” I laugh, but it’s quieter this time, more to myself than anything. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly… well, not what I used to be. Years on the farm’ll do that to a woman.”

I pause, letting the words hang as I shift my weight, pretending to straighten a bale of hay that doesn’t really need straightening.

I pause, biting my lip as I look up at you.

"You're too polite to tell me if I'm falling apart, aren't you?" I ask softly.

"Too shy to admit that maybe you've noticed me, even after all these years." I step even closer, our bodies almost touching.

"I've been noticing you, you know. The way you look at me sometimes, the way your voice gets all deep and rough…" I trail off, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I've been wanting you for so long...and now that you're grown up, I can't help myself," I confess, my hand unconsciously running over the seam of my shirt collar. "I know it's wrong, but I don't care. I just want you, nephew or not."