“How are you going to do that?” He sipped the last of his tea and pushed the cup to one side.
“Last time I tried to tell him to keep his voice down, he laughed at me.” Libby felt ashamed as she remembered the feelings that had threatened to swamp her then.
“Why did he laugh at you? I don’t quite understand that.” Tom turned his face toward her.
“Showing off in front of his men, I guess.” Libby shrugged.
“He’s not like that, Libby. I’ve known him since he was in short pants. Sarcastic, sure but not downright nasty like that. You sure there isn’t more to it than you’re saying.”
Libby looked at Tom. Why not? He already knew she was sex-starved, so what the hell.
“He touched my face with just his fingertip and saw the reaction he had on me. I kind of freaked out and ran away from him.”
Tom looked at her, his expression serious, but she could see he was trying not to laugh at her.
“I suppose it’s kind of funny when I look back at it. God, I’d laugh too if I was looking on. See, that’s what I mean. There is this spark between us, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“But the thing is; do you want to do something about him?”
“Well, without making your ears burn, I would like to throw him in the hay and have my way with him.” She laughed, some of the tension leaving her body. “Maybe once will be enough for me to get over it.”
“Well, good luck with that.” He laughed at her honesty. “Why don’t you try it then?”
“Why, Tom, I didn’t realize you were the free sex, liberal-thinking type of guy.”
“I’m a man.” He shrugged. “Albeit an old one, but if I was Nathan, I sure wouldn’t mind if you threw me in the hay and took advantage of me. Now there’s a sweet thought to send me to sleep with tonight, girl. Let’s hope you sort it out soon, because I don’t need too much reminding of what I no longer get.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Tom.” She stood and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, planting a kiss on the grey hair on the top of his head. “Thanks for listening. It makes it seem so much less of a big deal when I can talk to someone. I haven’t had that since John died, and I do appreciate it.”
“Anytime, and I mean it.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Now, I really need to get some shut-eye before these guys drag me out of bed in the morning. It’s going to be another big day, and when they’re gone, it’s you and me docking tails on those lambs.”
“Night, Tom.” Libby leaned her elbows on the table as he rose and walked out the door. She watched him retreat down the path toward the gate and out to his quarters. Sighing quietly, she got up and locked the door. Before heading to her room, she checked on her kids to reassure herself they were okay and then walked to her lonely bed.
Chapter 7
The next day with the shearers was pretty much the same as the first, although this time when they were finished for the day, they wanted to celebrate and have a few beers with dinner. Libby was on edge all night, but there was no sign of Nathan.
“So, are you going to tell me about you and Nathan then?” Molly leaned on the fence next to Libby.
Libby pulled her gaze from the driveway, wishing for the millionth time that a set of lights would herald his arrival and feeling stupid for the need she felt when he so obviously didn’t feel the same way about her. “Nothing to tell. He’s royally peeved I have the farm and gives me as much grief as he can about it. I guess he’s hoping I’ll give up and go back to the city with my tail between my legs. Why do you ask?”
“Look, we’ve been coming here to these farms for a long time. You have the guy rattled, I can tell, and believe me, it takes a lot to rattle that man.” Molly winked at Libby and took a long drink of her beer before she nudged Libby in the ribs and walked back to the others. A warm feeling started to settle in Libby’s stomach. Was hope now mingling with the lust she felt for him? What if Molly was right and he was rattled—and not about the farm like she thought but with her now that he’d kissed her. Libby touched her lips, the memory buzzing through her blood as her body cried out in protest of the feelings that would not go away.
“Hey, Libby, how about another beer?” Tom held a bottle out to her. Pushing aside the lust and plastering a smile to her face, Libby joined the others for a celebration, country-style.
In the morning, Libby and Tom waved off the shearers with a promise to book them early for the next shearing. After seeing the kids off on the school bus, she followed Tom to the yards to start the job she was dreading the most: docking the tails and testicles of the lambs who were now running with their mothers.
Running them through the race, Tom grabbed the first lamb and showed her how to flip it onto its back and place a ring on its tail.
“You have to hold them tight and be quick about it.” He demonstrated on the wriggling animal and handed her the docking tool. Letting the lamb go, he motioned to Libby to take his place. Grabbing a handful of wiry, short wool, Libby lifted the next lamb onto the makeshift table, flipping it over.
“It’s a boy.” She grimaced in Tom’s direction.
“You can do it Lib, pull the sac up and slip the ring on it at the base. See, easy,” he said as she followed his instructions. “Now do the
