“Jane, look up!” I wave both arms over my head.
When Jane looks up and sees me, her face breaks open into that heartbreakingly perfect wide smile of hers. She waves back. Every part of me feels relief, right down to my toes. Oddly, my chest stops hurting. I cup my hands over the sides of my mouth to amplify my voice while I help her find her way out. “Go straight ahead! Then turn left, and left again! Good, now right! Right, and go straight until you get to the second left. Now look to your right and you’ll see the exit!”
I bound down the stairs of the lookout tower, water in hand. Jane waltzes out of the exit to the maze, soaked in sweat but smiling. I’m not buying it. “Here,” I say, handing her a bottle of water. “I forgot how hot it can get in there. Drink this.”
“Sorry for getting lost,” she says, gulping down her water.
I scoff. “I’m the idiot who forgot to give you a map.”
She shakes her head while taking another sip. The tiny droplet of sweat dripping down her neck dares me to watch where it goes as it travels over the cords in her neck, pooling for a moment in the dip at the base of her neck between her collarbones.
In my mind, I see myself wrapping my fist around that knot of material at her bellybutton to tug her closer and then covering that tiny pool of sweat with my mouth, tasting it with my tongue, lapping it up, and swallowing.
“No,” she says. “You did give me a map and I lost it. Must have fallen out of my pocket while I was working.”
Only half kidding, I say, “I’ll have it tattooed on you so you don’t lose it again.”
She laughs. “But then what will I do next year when you cut a whole different pattern into the cornfield?”
Before I can stop myself, I reply, “I’ll keep it the same if it means you’ll come back.”
She looks at me incredulously. “I mean, of course, I’m coming back. I love this job already. It’s a great workout.”
Want to hug her. Want to kiss all the sweat off her forehead. Pull her into the shower so we can lather up together, rinse off while we kiss, grope and playfully grapple, then toss her onto my bed and get all kinds of dirty in other ways.
I’m wandering into dangerous territory. My dirty, selfish thoughts are starting to drown out the ethical, logical thoughts.
And I don’t care.
Chapter Five
Jane
Nothing about what Helen said has changed my opinion of Henry.
Honestly, I was relieved this morning when she told me about his supposed crimes. He’s not a sex offender. Sadly, sex offender is always my first thought when someone tells me to avoid a person. I’m relieved he’s not a drug dealer or a habitual gambler or an alcohol abuser who starts fights. All of these possibilities had played through my head as I slept last night.
But Henry has committed no crimes. Uncle Howie didn’t necessarily commit any crimes either, even if he was wildly irresponsible.
With half the workday completed, and Henry having behaved like the perfect professional in every way, I feel even more confident about my decision to work for him.
When I’ve finally convinced him that I’m neither overheated nor in any danger of sunstroke or dehydration by drinking half the bottle of water he’s brought to me, he hands over a bag from the local diner.
“Lunch,” he says.
I look around the place. “OK, where do we sit?”
He squints and realizes he hasn’t provided any sort of seating anywhere at this place. “Huh,” he says. “Big Daddy might be able to hold the both of us.”
I look over at the giant 600-pound pumpkin that marks the entrance to the pumpkin patch. I’ve no doubt it could hold the weight of both of us, but it looks like an awfully snug arrangement for the boss and his employee.
Not that I don’t want to get cozy. I don’t think he’ll try anything, but I might just try to jump his bones.
Maybe it’s the unusually warm fall day. Or the fact that he noticed I was lost in the maze and went to the trouble to help me out without me even calling out for help. Or maybe just because he looks so freaking hot in that sweaty Henley shirt. But I’m feeling urges to do things.
My body knows how long it’s been, and it knows how much I like to tamp down my needs to put Sarah first. But now, being away from her, combined with being close to the hottest, kindest, friendliest person I’ve met in a long time, my needs are starting to rattle their cage.
“Follow me,” he says. “Nice and shady in here.”
I follow him into the barn that he’s converted into the gift shop. Gladly, I think. I will gladly follow those Levi’s everywhere.
The way his easy walk shows off his ass—the man moseys, actually moseys—makes all the parts below my navel ache. The waffle-knit shirt clings to him in all the right places, from his broad shoulders to his slightly dad-bod waist. The sweat-soaked areas around his armpits, stomach, and upper back only add to the whole attraction; he’s a hard-working man. I’ve never been with a man who did physical labor outside of the gym.
Thoughts creep in about how much I would love to tug off that sweaty shirt to see what’s underneath. I wouldn’t even care if his tummy was slightly soft; it would only remind me of the way he chowed down on those funnel cakes, and the memory is sexy as hell.
“How about here? It’s not much, but we can sit on the straw bales,” he suggests.
I agree
