My brows lowered as we passed between two brown poles. A chain-link fence lay on the ground, and off to the left was a small wooden sign that read WINSTEAD: PRIVATE PROPERTY. A large cornfield greeted us, but the stalks were dry and yellow, appearing as if they were days away from withering up and dying. Beyond them, several large horses grazed behind a wooden fence that was missing many of its middle panels. Cows roamed over most of the property to the left, fat and happy looking.
As we drew closer, an old barn came into view—a scary old barn, like the one in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, complete with the creepy rooster compass thing swiveling on the roof. Several yards beyond the barn was a two-story home. The white walls were gray, and even from the truck, I could tell there was more paint peeling than there was on the house. Blue tarp covered several sections of the roof, and a chimney looked like it was half crumbling. Red dusty bricks were stacked along the side of the house, as if someone had started to repair the chimney but grew bored and gave up. There was also a cemetery of broken-down cars behind the barn, a sea of rusted-out trucks and sedans.
Shock rippled through me as I sat up a bit straighter. This was Jase’s farm? For some reason, I pictured something a little more . . . up to date?
Cam parked the truck a few feet back from the barn and killed the engine. He glanced over at me, following my stare to the house. Unlocking his seat belt, he sighed. “His parents had a really hard time a few years back and they’re just now getting on their feet. Jase tries to help with the farm and stuff, but as you can see . . .”
The farm needed more help than Jase could provide.
I blinked. “It’s . . . charming.”
Cam laughed. “That’s nice of you to say.”
My fingers tightened around the cup in defense. “It is.”
“Uh-huh.” He flipped his baseball cap around, shielding his eyes. Tufts of black hair poked out of the back rim.
I started to speak, but movement I saw out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.
Racing out from the side of the barn, a little boy seated in a miniature John Deere tractor hooted and hollered. His chubby arms were bone straight as his hands gripped the steering wheel. A mop of curly brown hair shone under the bright August sun. Pushing the tractor from behind was Jase, and even though I could barely hear him, I was sure that he was making engine noises. They bounced along the uneven gravel and ground. Jase laughed as his little brother shouted, “Faster! Go faster!”
Jase appeased his brother, pushing the tractor so it zigged and zagged to a stop in front of the truck as Jack squealed, clenching the steering wheel. Plumes of dust flew into the air.
And then Jase straightened.
Oh wow-wee.
My mouth dropped open. Nothing in this world could’ve made me look away from the splendor before me.
Jase was shirtless and his skin glistened with sweat. I wasn’t sure what ethnicity he had in his family background. There had to be something Spanish or Mediterranean, because he had a natural tan skin tone that remained that way all year-round.
As he walked around the tractor, his muscles did fascinating things—rippling and tightening. His pecs were perfectly formed and his shoulders were broad. He had the kind of muscles one got from lifting bales of hay. Boy was ripped. His stomach muscles tensed with each step. He had a very distinctive six-pack. Totally touchable. His jeans hung indecently low—low enough that I wondered if he had on anything underneath the faded denim.
It was the first time I ever saw the full extent of his tattoo. Ever since I’d known him, I’d caught glimpses of it peeking out from the collar on his left shoulder and from under a shirtsleeve. I never even knew what it was until now.
The tat was massive—an endless knot shaded in deep black, starting at the base of his neck, looping and twisting over his left shoulder and halfway down his arm. At the bottom, two loops opposite each other reminded me of snakes curling up and facing each other.
It was a perfect fit for him.
A flush spread across my cheeks and traveled down my throat as I dragged my gaze back up, mouth dry as the desert.
Sinewy muscles in his arms flexed as he lifted Jack out of the driver’s seat, holding him into the air above his head. He spun around in a circle, laughing deeply as Jack shrieked and flailed.
Ovaries go boom.
As Cam opened the driver’s door, Jase sat Jack down on the ground and yelled at my brother, but I had no idea what he said. He straightened again, dropping his hands onto his hips. His eyes squinted as he stared into the truck.
Jase was absolutely gorgeous. You couldn’t say that about a lot of people in real life. Maybe celebrities or rock stars, but it was rare to see someone as stunning as he was.
His hair, the color of rich russet, was a mess of waves falling into his face. His cheekbones were broad and well defined. Lips were full and could be quite expressive. A hint of stubble shaded the strong curve of his jaw. He didn’t have dimples like Cam or me, but when he did smile, he had one of the biggest, most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen on a guy.
He wasn’t smiling right now.