Page 14 of Until Easton

"Are you sure shoveling manure is how you want to spend the rest of your day?" Becca asks with a cocked head and raised brow.

Truth is, I am willing to shovel shit. Hell, anything, if it means being with Becca. I find myself craving to be in her presence. "Positive," I say. Becca smiles, and fuck if I don't feel like I need to keep her smiling like that forever.

"I'm pretty sure we can find you a pair of boots to replace those pricey-looking shoes on your feet. You also might want to change your clothes, as well. I wouldn't want you to get a stain on that white shirt." Becca assesses the rest of my attire.

I pull the shirt over my head. "Problem solved." Becca's eyes fall to my shirtless chest. She's checking me out. It's not the first time she's done it since I've arrived, either. Becca has stolen just as many glances at me as I have her. I clear my throat, and her eyes dart back to my face.

"Put me to work."

6

BECCA

My shift at the salon doesn't start until this afternoon, so I decide to finish installing the carpet in the hall upstairs. I know grandpa said he'd take care of it or get David or Steve to finish the job, but they have their hands full repairing the fence line on the east side of the property. I woke up early this morning to let the horses out of the barn to find a coyote out in the pasture. Luckily, I saw it before it had a chance to spook them. Turns out the storm that rolled through a few nights ago blew down about one hundred feet of fencing. Repairing it will take up most of Steve and David's day.

With the carpet securely in place, I pick up the first strip of baseboard and hold it against the wall, then grab hold of the nail gun lying on the floor to my right. After a few pulls of the trigger, the compressor kicks in, filling the hall with a loud humming noise. I don't know how much time passes but between the noise of the compressor and the sharp sound of the nail gun, I don't realize I have an audience until suddenly the compressor goes silent, and a throat clears from behind me, making me jump. Sitting back on my haunches, I look over my shoulder to see I'm face-level with a pair of thighs. Thighs that are covered in gray sweatpants. I don't have to look up to know who it is, but I do anyway. I let my eyes make the slow trek up. It's hard to ignore the very prominent outline of what I know is an impressive appendage. I pretend to ignore the sexy way those gray sweatpants hang so low on his hips, or the way they show off just enough skin to tell me he is most likely not wearing underwear, and continue up past a set of drool-worthy abs until I finally stop on Easton's face and settle my gaze on a pair of steel-gray eyes. For a split second, I feel rather proud of myself for schooling my features and not letting my attention linger on any particular part of his anatomy. That is, until those lush lips of his tilt up into a smirk. One that says he knows exactly what I'm thinking. God, he's more beautiful in person. Photographs don't do Easton Evans justice.

"Can I help you?" I ask. I've spent the past twenty-four hours trying to ignore the reactions of my body and my brain since Easton showed up. Not only was I pleasantly surprised at how nice he's been, but he also shocked the hell out of me yesterday when he offered to help shovel shit not an hour after he arrived at the ranch. Easton Evans is not at all what I expected. That, paired with my strange reaction to him, is throwing me for a loop.

"It's not even nine o'clock in the morning, Red. What's with all the noise?"

My skin prickles at the husky tone of his sleep-filled voice, and I pray he didn't notice the way my body just shivered. "Well, you'll have to excuse the noise. There are about a million and one things that need to be done around here every day, and none of those things would get done if I waited for you to finally get out of bed."

"Do you treat all guests who stay here like this?"

I can tell by how Easton asks that he's joking, but I still feel the need to clarify the way things are. "You're not exactly a guest, so those rules don't apply." I give him a sugary sweet smile before climbing to my feet. And it's at that moment my leg shows me it fell asleep after being down on the floor for too long, causing me to lose my balance.

"Careful," Easton murmurs, clamping his large hand around my bicep to steady me. And the moment his touch makes contact with my skin, there is a sudden tap of electricity that shoots through my body. It's the same tap I felt yesterday. On a gasp, I freeze, and my eyes once again connect with Easton's. By the look on his face, I'd say he felt it too.

Ignoring the heated look Easton is currently boring into me, I break away from his hold and take a step back. I don't miss the way his fingers twitch as if he's desperately holding himself back from touching me again, and that does something weird to my senses. In fact, everything about Easton throws me off-kilter.

"I can save the rest of this for later." I nod toward the floor where my tools lie. "It's Blue's wash day, and she doesn't like anyone to give her a bath but me."

"Blue?" Easton asks.

"Blue is one of our horses."

Easton runs his hand through his inky hair. "I can help, you know. I mean, it's the least I could do for you letting me stay here." He shrugs.

I give him a skeptical look. "You want to help me give my horse a bath? You didn't get enough yesterday?"

"Yeah, why the hell not? I don't mind helping out. I don't have a problem earning my keep." Easton shrugs again like it's no big deal. Rockstar Easton Evans wants to get down and dirty with the rest of us.

I mirror his shrug. "Sure, if you think you can hang."

"Oh, Red." Easton chuckles. "I can hang. Trust me." Something tells me there's more behind that statement of his. "Give me ten, and I'll meet you downstairs."

As promised, Easton appears on the front porch where I've been waiting. When he steps up beside me, I take in the gray t-shirt, faded jeans, and brown leather boots he's sporting, giving him a nod of approval.

"Glad to see I passed inspection." He smirks.

I roll my eyes and hand over a cup of hot coffee.

"Thanks." He brings the mug to his mouth.

"You're welcome. I was making one for myself and was feeling charitable. I wasn't sure how you take it, so I just put a dash of sugar and creamer; the way I like it."

Nothing else is said for a few minutes. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Easton takes in the view while taking long slow sips from his mug.