Page 12 of Perfect

“You’re a farmer, so what? The work can’t bethathard. It’s not like you’re saving lives or anything.” I knew what I was saying was a pile of bollocks, the words even felt wrong in my mouth, but I couldn’t help myself.

He suddenly looked massive in his seat.

“Spoken like a true ignorant city girl that has no idea about the importance of agriculture.”

His city girl comment made me want to yank a clump of his hair in frustration.

“I’m not ignorant at all. I’ve done some research about farmingandYorkshire and I did well in Geography. I’m not stupid.”

He quirked an eyebrow and responded in an amused tone.

“Well fuck me genius, maybe you do have more going for you than just your looks,” he sneered. He was such a git. I suddenly felt a grudge the size of Yorkshire developing inside me.

A sigh of frustration whistled between my teeth.

“You know, you’re becoming quite predictable now. It’s boring. You don’t like me. I get it, and that’s fine,” I stated. “I suggest we stay out of each other’s way while I’m here. OK?”

His following words werenotwelcomed. I hadn’t come expecting to work, my trip was my holiday.

“Not OK, since we’re living in the same house. We’ll also probably have to work together at some point. As I said, you don’t get to sit on your cute arse all summer. As pathetic as it is, you’ll pull yourunderwhelmingweight,Harlow.”

And now he was calling me skinny. I wondered what he’d do if I threw up all over him. The thought of being forced to carry out manual labour duties in front of this guy made me feel sick.

“Sounds like heaven,” I murmured, pausing to shoot him a moody glare. “I said I know some stuff, but I’m not an experienced farmhand by a long shot,” I returned drily. What I knew about farming and working outdoors could be written on a napkin.

He sent another wink my way. “Don’t worry baby, I can teach you a thing or two. I’ll show you what real work looks like and I’m a great teacher.”

“I can’t wait,” I shot back in a tone which dripped with sarcasm.

As the vehicle started to slow down, Connor shot me a brief look up and down my body. “I think it will be quite entertaining, watching you all hot and sweaty. Dragged out of your picture-perfect comfort zone. And I, sweet little stepsister, am the perfect man to do that,” Connor drawled with assured confidence.

I gritted my teeth and did not say another word. The way he said hot and sweaty, made me think of entwined naked limbs rather than farm work.

I also hated how he said baby like I was anything but, and I despised my body's response to his gruff voice.

My legs felt weak. Thank God I was sitting down.

My eyes stared through the window, as realisation hit me like a sledgehammer.

I was here all summer with my dad, the woman who stole him from my mum, and a guy I fancied, whohatedmy guts. Great. It was going to be a blast.

Three

The farm wasnothinglike I expected and I closed the window as the stench of dung abused my nostrils.

Connor had pulled the car up in front of a large stone-built house and I unclipped my seatbelt and clambered out of the door.

A cluster of cows mooed, the sound penetrating the calmness and the horrendous farm odour intensified. It was so strong you could almost taste it.

“You’ll get used to it,” Connor assured me with a half-smile as he strode around the back of the vehicle with an animal-like grace. I shot him one of my best unimpressed looks.

I retrieved my rucksack from the backseat and turned to fully take in my surroundings. There were two large barns, both appearing to be damaged; part of the roof was missing off one, and the other had scaffolding erected around a worn breeze-blocked section. I could see the hairy bodies of cows housed there (aka the probable source of the smell). The other barn was full of haphazardly stacked hale bales that screamed health and safety breach.

Various bits of machinery cluttered the pebbled yard, all of which had seen better days. There were also a couple of old cars which were rusted through.

Narrowing my eyes against the sun, I attempted to shield my gaze with the palm of my hand.

Connor rustled around in the boot of the car. The only vehicle which looked like it had any life left in it, was a bright green tractor. It had one of those spikey attachments on the back that they use to churn up fields. I hadn’t a clue what it was called. The huge tyres were daunting; I could so imagine Connor at the wheel—shirtless and sweaty—what the heck? I swallowed. Where didthatcome from?

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