Page 13 of An Alien for the Farm

ELEANOR

Itry to busy myself with the house. I push the hot hunk of an alien from my mind and focus on what I came here for. The first thing I do is take out the things that are too broken to use. Small pieces of old furniture I can lift, and other little things. There’s a large wooden box I think used to be for storage. It sits off to the side of what I’m going to call the living room, but it’s far too large and heavy for me to even shift. I stand staring at it. I might have to break it apart little by little and take away the small pieces one by one, but just the thought of hammering on anything when my hands ache so easily makes me clench and unclench them at my side, trying to think of an alternative.

Lifting the final small broken stool, at least that’s what I think it is, I take it outdoors. The sun beams down on me immediately, making me aware of the sweat on my brow as I squint at the difference in light. The hover-truck is by my gate again and I catch Zynar standing with his brother. Together they unload a row of beams, each taking one. Both shirtless, their muscles ripple as they work. It’s like watching a show put on just for me. They talk to each other as they work and though they almost appear identical, I can tell them apart just by the hair and build. Zynar is slightly thicker, his hair an inch or two longer. This is only confirmed when he looks over his shoulder and spots me. He grins, flashing fang, and my cheeks warm. Gods, they’re both attractive, although there’s something about Zynar that makes my eyes linger on him. Setting down the stool in the pile I made, I wave. His brother pops his head up and spots me, too. He stares and I swear I hear Zynar growl. With a sharp chin to chest, the brother greets me.

I return the greeting before forcing myself to turn around and head back into the house. I can’t just stand and stare at them.

Work, Eleanor. Not gawk.

Time passes and I hear them talking as they work together bringing materials closer to the house before it goes relatively silent again. I’m busy moving things out of the way when I hear the dull thumps of Zynar on the roof. There’s a creek and then a whooshing sound like straw breaking before light suddenly pierces right through the ceiling. I squint, my eyes adjusting to the glare as the hole above me gets wider. Bits of debris fall right inside and suddenly Zynar and I are face to face.

He freezes the moment he sees me, and those intense yellow eyes seem to suck me right in.

“Ah,” I try to break the tension. “I’m being a silly goat, aren’t I? I can’t work in here while you’re fixing the roof.”

“I don’t know what a goht is, Liora, but you are anything but silly.”

God, more compliments. More than I’ve ever received in such a short space of time before. I try not to react but my skin heats anyway.

Glancing at the things New Horizons sent and then at the floor, some of the debris has already fallen on them. If it’s any indication, the whole floor will be filled with dust, dirt and straw soon.

“Right.” I bite my bottom lip, running my hands through my hair as I create a ponytail. Glancing up at Zynar, he’s still frozen there watching me. “Just wait a sec!”

Moving as quickly as I can, I get the old linen I’d aired and bring them back inside, covering everything important that I can. Hurrying into the bedroom, I rip the sheets off the bed and turn the mattress on its side. I’m huffing by the time I make it back to the hole Zynar made, my entire body aching, too.

“Okay.” I give him a thumbs up but he doesn’t seem to know what it means. Of course, he doesn’t know what it means. “You can go ahead now.” He gives me a slight bow like his brother did, chin to chest, that gaze of his tracking me as I head out of the house.

Outside, the soft wind brushes against me, rejuvenating me a little. Guess I’ll have to focus my efforts on the yard then.

Heading over to the pile of things I’d taken out, I turn to look up at the house. I expect to see his brother there with him, but Zynar is alone. He rips at the roof material, bringing up the tightly woven straws section by section. And section by section, the rotten beams holding the roof together are revealed.

I press my hands akimbo at my sides. He was right. The entire thing needs replacing. Even with my inexperienced eyes, I can see that. So much for trying to patch the thing. I watch as he continues working, a steady pile of rotten debris growing at one side of the house.

He’s efficient and fast, I can already see that. He moves with the strength of at least three men, tearing at the roof with his bare hands, no tools needed. When he glances up and catches me shamelessly watching, I have the decency to wave before forcing myself to turn around and getting on with my work.

I have no gloves, but I suppose I can do something easy. It’s not like there’s a rush to get everything done within the first week of being here. I can take my time.

With that, I sidestep the pile of crap I’d started to make unwisely in the center of the yard, and head over to the side where the main lodging is fenced in. There are wildflowers and there are weeds. Guess I can start here.

For the first few minutes, I make good progress. The variety of flowers just in my yard alone is astounding. If I had my tools, years of teaching about plants and how to grow them could help me identify the species—or at least, make my own names for them since they’re definitely not from Earth. But I could at least decide how best to cultivate them. I grin, gaze shifting around the yard. It’s like my personal Eden, each bloom offering a promise of what this land can become.

I gather the seeds of a few of the flowers and the shoots of others that are growing in the wrong place, reminding myself to pick out a good spot for a garden later. There are several with thorns though, and I weed around them. I work hard, but soon not even my hat’s good protection from the heat or the ache in my legs from stooping so long. Good god. Taking my hat off, because it doesn’t seem to be helping one bit, I set it on the ground and kneel on it instead. It’s foldable, so I don’t worry about destroying its integrity as I put my weight on the thing. Now in a slightly better position, I resume my work with renewed gusto.

I work fast, glancing up at Zynar as he works too. He’s so efficient, I wonder how much he really has to do on that roof that it will take him a few days to complete. Even as I glance over my shoulder, he’s almost done clearing the entire front side of the roof away. It pushes me to work harder and I lean into the rhythm we have. The sounds of him ripping the roof, the resulting soft crash of rotten fiber on the pile he’s making mixed with my soft grunts and the growing pile of weeds at my side. I’m so into it that I make one terrible mistake.

“Ah!” It’s the sudden pain that makes me stop. I don’t even truly realize what’s happened at first. Not until pure red blood runs down my hand as I lift it, wincing as I see a thick thorn at the end of a deep wound in the center of my palm.

I cut myself.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit.” I clutch my hand, trying to keep the blood from dripping everywhere. Do I even have a first aid kit in those supplies? I’m staring at the wound, applying pressure to my wrist and trying to think fast when a shadow suddenly looms over me. I’d have thought it was the clouds if that sweet, intoxicating scent didn’t waft into my nose a second later.

Before I can move, Zynar is at my back. He kneels immediately, his thick thighs closing me in as he comes in close behind me. The unexpected closeness makes me freeze. Tingles erupt in my belly, the pain in my hand fading to the background as the heat of his chest presses into my back and the warmth of his crotch spreads across my behind. Sudden images of us, naked, in this same position flash through my mind. I’m now frozen in pure horror at where my mind has immediately gone.

Zynar reaches around me with both arms, closing me in even tighter in his embrace as he gently takes my injured hand between his large ones. I’m utterly engulfed in his personal space, cocooned by hard muscle and the dizzying aroma of his masculine scent.

“Let me see, sweet Liora,” he rumbles, the vibrations traveling through where our bodies are flush together. I catch myself trying not to lean back against his warmth as he carefully examines the thorn embedded in my hand.

This close, I can feel the power thrumming through his frame, like a great tautly-controlled force of nature. I’m almost overwhelmed by the sheer physicality of him surrounding me so utterly. Arousal stirs low in my belly even though there’s a meager fight within me to resist it.

---