Page 34 of An Alien for the Farm

His chest is against my back and I can smell his scent again. That sweet smell that’s like honey mixed in with perfume. Personal space, anyone? My chest heaves as I suddenly find it hard to breathe in his proximity. Pressed against my back, he’s still holding on to the scythe, his arm curled around me where his hold on the weapon is just by where I’m still gripping it.

“You’re here,” I stutter. “ I…thought you weren’t going to come.”

“I am true to my word.” His gaze shifts to the grass I’ve already cut then back to me. A frown on his brow. “You shouldn’t be out here doing this.”

I frown slightly, too, trying not to highlight the fact he’s pressed against me like this. But mostly a bit annoyed. Annoyed at myself because there’s a miniature me in the center of my chest doing the cabbage patch dance. He’s here, and it shouldn’t make me this happy. I’m practically suddenly glowing. “You don’t think I’m capable?”

“Ah, Little Bird. I think you’re more than capable.” Did he just lean in? His voice is lower. Deeper. I can feel his breath on my neck and it’s sending shivers down my spine. “But just because you can do it, doesn’t mean I should let you. That’s what you have me for.”

I blink several times, forcing a lump that’s rising in my throat away.

“Come now, you’re gathering grass-feed, correct? I will do that. I had planned to clear this field today, anyway.”

“You’d planned?” I whisper, trying not to focus on the depth of his voice or the fact he’s still pressed against my back! The hard planes of his chest feel like velvety walls I could just melt against and I’m suddenly reminded of what I did last night. How I’d imagined him while my fingers moved against me. I swallow hard again.

Zynar leans in, his purr near my ear. “I am tardy, Liora. Varek’s fault. I would have walked if it wouldn’t have taken longer.”

I blow a disbelieving laugh through my nose. “Walked? All the way from the town?”

He makes another purr, and I swear he comes even closer even though he’s already pressed against my back. I can’t move. And despite my reservations, I don’t want to move. Fuck me. I’m cooked, aren’t I?

“You were waiting for me, were you not?” I’m glad when he doesn’t wait for me to answer because my cheeks flame at the fact that he’s right. “I won’t disappoint you like that again.”

I clear my throat. “Yes, well. Let me just finish this here. Then we can discuss what you want to do today.”

I try to lift the scythe but it feels even heavier now. I realize it’s because Zynar’s still gripping it.

“Like this,” he purrs, his arm tightening around me. With the slightest insistence from his arm, he shows me how to swing the tool without exerting as much effort as I was. Or maybe it’s because he’s lifting the brunt of the weight. I do learn one thing, though. Apparently, I was swinging it at the wrong angle. Figures. I’m five foot five and this thing is taller than I am.

A few more swathes of grass cut and his arm relaxes. The sharp end of the tool rests on the ground before us and he eases up. I finally get to turn to look at him and when I do, Zynar’s standing there with one arm suspiciously behind his back.

I still can’t believe he’s actually here. I’d convinced myself this was all a joke. That he couldn’t possibly have really meant he was coming here to work, for free basically. And now that he’s here…well, that little cloud of despondency is seeping away to be replaced by anticipation. And I really shouldn’t be anticipating anything.

When he suddenly pulls something colorful from behind his back, my eyes widen, the handle of the scythe falling from my fingers.

Zynar holds the bouquet of flowers in one fist, his yellow gaze searching, unsure.

“It wasn’t entirely Varek’s fault why I’m late. I tried to find the rarest blooms that wouldn’t die in a sol.” His gaze shifts to the bouquet. They’re huge flowers, each one about the size of both my fists combined. And the variety, good god. There are some with tiger stripes. Some that seem to change color depending on how the light shifts over them. And some that…

“My goodness, is that one…singing?” I step closer, my heart in my throat, an ache I never knew I had rising to the fore.

Zynar’s gaze is locked on my face, as if he’s noting my every reaction. “Yes. The wind goes through tiny channels in the petals, producing sound. I was hoping you would enjoy that one the most.”

I could cry. I actually could. Flowers. He brought me flowers. An alien buying me flowers. How did he…how did he even know I liked them?

“You saw me saving the flowers,” I whisper. “When I was weeding the yard. You noticed.” That lump in my throat. Those tears. They threaten. They threaten simply because he noticed. But most of all, they swell in my eyes because of memories I forced myself to forget but never really could.

When I look at him, I can feel the tears blurring my vision. I fight them away. “You didn’t think it was stupid? Me saving the flowers? A silly preoccupation? A worthless hobby?”

His brows furrow slightly, those yellow eyes still searching mine and even though they’re slitted, pupils not round like mine, I can still see the depth of emotion in them.

“Whoever said such things to you, Liora?”

I sniffle, my gaze dropping to the flowers still in his grasp as a sad sort of smile stretches my lips. “A cocky, foolish man who never knew a damn thing.”

Zynar studies me for a few seconds, watching as I stretch one hand to brush a finger over one of the petals.

“Your love of blooms is admirable,” he finally says. “Why would caring for such delicate things be silly? They bring beauty to these fields. Peace.” He gestures to the rolling plains spread out around us. “And they will bring beauty to your home.”

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