Page 15 of Stalked By the Farmer

I pull up outside Conner's farm, dust swirling around my boots as I stomp up to his front door. He opens it before I can even knock, as if he's been waiting for me. Waiting and dreading this confrontation in equal measure.

I don't beat around the bush. "You paid off the farm. All of it."

He nods, eyes intent on mine. "Yes," he answers simply.

"Why?" I ask faintly.

"Because I'm your friend," he answers me as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

And my heart does this weird thing where it soars and drops all it once. Conner does still consider us friends. He cares about me, but his words make it painfully clear that'sallhe considers us.

I shake my head, my mind still reeling. "But how did you even know? I haven't been around lately."

My cheeks flame as what I left unspoken—since the kiss at the fair—hangs between us.

He shuffles his feet and looks down sheepishly. "I may have overheard your folks talking at the market one day."

"Oh," I say simply, still stunned.

"I've missed you, Misty," he finally says, and my heart warms.

"I've missed you too," I confess.

"You wanna come in for a cup of cider? Fresh off the press?"

I smile. He knows this time of year, apple cider is my go-to, and Conner seriously makes the best.

"Sure."

While I'm not sure things will ever be exactly the same between us again, this time I vow that I won't let my feelings get in the way of our friendship again.

I've missed Conner, and if this is the only way I can have him, I'll take it.

CHAPTERNINE

Conner

The sun beatsdown on my back as I haul bales of hay into the loft. Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging them, but the physical ache is a welcome distraction.

After admitting to Misty I'd do anything to help her family, the relief of being close to her again wars with the anxiety twisting my gut. What if she guesses the truth—that I want more than friendship? That I'm obsessed with the curve of her smile, the sway of her hips as she walks away?

I groan, dropping a bale. The thud echoes in the vast, empty space.

This is madness. I've lusted after Misty since we were kids, playing in the creek on hot summer days, her laughter ringing out as I chased her through the shallow water. Now, twelve years later, nothing's changed.

Except she's even more beautiful. And even more out of my league.

I wipe my brow and glance out the loft doors. My farmhouse sits silent under the blazing sun, taunting me with her absence. I imagine a life with Misty living here, her returning home, kicking off her boots in the entryway, padding through the house in those little shorts she wears...

"Dammit." I slam a fist into the hay bale. Pain shoots through my knuckles but it's not enough. I want to pound my fists bloody, punish myself for these twisted thoughts.

Misty is my best friend, the one good thing left in my life, and here I am objectifying her like some sex-crazed creep.

I suck in a sharp breath, heart pounding.No. I won't ruin this. I'll bury these feelings deep, lock them away in the darkest corner of my being. Misty will never know.

Our friendship is worth the pain. It has to be. At least she's seeing me as a friend again.

With shaking hands, I grab another bale. The ache in my chest dulls to a steady throb as I lose myself in the rhythm of the work, each drop of sweat a reminder of my vow.

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