Page 6 of The Farmer
Dear Lord, this is how horror movies begin. A woman alone in the house, with no idea of the monsters lurking in the shadows. One by one, they step into the light, and she has nowhere to go, no way to defend herself. Just like that scene from that slasher film I watched last weekend—the one that gave me nightmares for days.
If that’s the case, then the least I can do is continue searching for Parker. After all, if there are any monsters out there, they’d have to get through him first. The thought of his intimidating presence makes me feel slightly better, even if I can’t see him right now.
Swallowing back my fear, I open the door and step onto the porch, the wood cold under my bare feet.
My breath fogs the air, and the temperature drops fast. I wrap my arms around myself and take a few hesitant steps toward the edge.
“Parker, are you still out here?” I try again, louder now. Thank God I can’t see beyond five meters, so if there really are monsters out here and I’m about to become their next meal, I won’t know until they’re right in front of me. Maybe they’ll cut off my scream as they chomp bits and pieces of my?—
A shape looms suddenly to my right, and I freeze, the scream trapped in my throat.
My lungs go tight. My eyes sting from the wind and the rain and the not knowing. My knees almost buckle, and I know I’m gonna be one of those characters in the movie who dies because they can’t move.
“Paris? What are you doing out here?”
Relief washes over me in waves as I realize it’s just him. I let out a strangled laugh—half relief, half nerves, like my body doesn’t know whether to cry or kiss the ground Parker walks on.
“Jesus,” I breathe, hand to my chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”
His forehead scrunches. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute.” I breathe through my mouth. “No, I don’t know.”
Lightning flashes behind him, painting his face in sharp white light, and I see a streak of dark red, smeared across his sleeve, fresh and wet and jarring in the storm light.
I gasp. “You’re bleeding.”
My hands reach for his arm, searching for the source.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly. “It’s not mine.”
I blink up at him. “What?”
He nods toward the field. “There was a bird. Dead. It must’ve hit the wire. I didn’t see it until I’d already grabbed the fence rail.”
My fingers hover near the dark stain, but I don’t touch him this time.
Because that’s when I realize how close we are. His chest rises just inches from mine, heat radiating off his soaked shirt, that scent of rain and earth and something inherently him curling in my lungs.
I look up, and suddenly everything narrows to his mouth. The hard shape of it. The faint, hairline scar just above his top lip.His lashes are wet, his beard glistening with rain, and all I can think of is how badly I want to feel his mouth on mine.
It’s reckless. It’s impulsive. It’s not me.
I’m the girl who overthinks everything, who maps out the safest route, who never moves until she’s sure the ground won’t collapse beneath her.
But right now, the only thing I’m sure of is him.
Desire licks softly in my belly, and the way he looks at me calls to the baser instincts in me.
My hands move before my brain catches up, curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling myself up on my toes. When my mouth finds his, the world falls completely silent.
Oh my God.
The kiss is full and hot and breathless, and it steals the air from my lungs. Parker gets over his shock in no time. One arm wraps tight around my waist, and the other pushes up into my hair, tilting my head so he can go deeper into the hot recesses of my mouth.
I let him, and I’m no longer the same person.
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