Page 19 of In the Dust

It would be nice to look cute today, but it’s pointless when you’re working on a farm. So, I opt for a pair of light washed jeans and a soft t-shirt.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and I take that as my cue to head downstairs. When I reach the kitchen, I find a freshly showered Colton leaning against the counter holding out a mug for me.

We’ve got to stop meeting like this.“Who showers before working on the farm?” I tease.

At least he’s wearing a shirt this time, I lie to myself.

He responds with a shake of his head.

“I got your note.” I smirk as I grab the warm coffee cup from his extended hand.

“Had to carry you upstairs while your dad carried Pretty Boy to the couch. Guess y’all couldn't make the drive home.”

Wait, Brad slept here?

“Good morning,” Brad mumbles as he walks into the kitchen.

I look to Brad and study his face. He is undeniably handsome, but doesn’t hold a match to Colton’s sculpted, masculine features. It’s like he was handcrafted from marble by God himself.

“You should probably head to your rental, get some rest. I’ll stop by after dinner,” I offer.

Brad walks to me, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek. “Not necessary. I’m working the farm with you today, remember?” He looks at me sideways.

Nope, not at all. “Uh, yeah, that’s right.” I take a sip of my coffee, noting the perfect amount of honey. “But you don’t have any clothes. Or boots, for that matter.”

“Your grandpa is letting him borrow an old pair of boots and clothes,” Colton chimes in, not bothering to hide his grin.

“Yes, Burl said he would help me out.” He rubs his face. “I guess I’ll go get changed. Where’s the bathroom?”

I decide against letting him use mine; I’ll show him my room later. “Down the hall, to the left.”

As Brad leaves the kitchen, I turn my head slowly towards the man that’s bound to cause trouble. Colton lets out a deep laugh he’s been holding in. I smack his arm as I let out my own giggle. “You better be nice to him.”

Colton feigns shock. “Now, Dixie May, why would you ever think I would be anything less than a true southern gentleman?”

* * *

“Put your back into it, Brad!”Colton shouts as they shovel out the dirty bedding from neighboring stalls.

I swiftly turn my body away so neither of them can catch me laughing. Brad is visibly struggling with the whole manual labor thing. Not that he’s out of shape; he works out three times a week. He’s just used to sitting in an air-conditioned office all day. Plus, farm fit is a different kind of strength.

“Water,” Brad pants, out of breath. “I need water.”

I motion behind me. “There’s a hose over by the door.”

He pauses for a moment, thinking I’m joking. “No thanks. I’ll take bottled.”

“Hose or nothing, City Boy,” Colton butts in. “While you’re at it, grab that orange bucket from the first stall on the right and go feed the chickens. Seems more your pace.”

Brad shoots him a wicked look. Storming off, he mumbles something under his breath that I can’t quite make out, except for the word ‘asshole’.

“Cut him some slack, Colton,” I plead.

“Not today, Dixie. He said he could do it, so let him prove it,” he declares while placing his shovel against the wall, removing his gloves and then his sweat filled t-shirt.

Lord, give me strength.

I take our moment alone to quickly bring up a burning question from last night. “So … you never answered my question.”

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