Vicki raised a brow before a full-fledged snicker broke free.
“What?”
She clutched her hands over her chest dramatically and stared into the sky. “Be still, my beating heart, for I am a-swoon with delight. My new boyfriend showed me a compost pile.”
Joel smirked. “It’s one of the ‘little things’ you’ve always wanted to experience, admit it.”
Her eyes sparkled. “It’s been on the list forevah. What other secrets you gonna share while we toil with the behind-the-scenes shit?”
“Ha ha. Watch and learn, my young Padawan.”
Joel helped her empty the heavy wheelbarrow, then took her to the pile of shavings to fill up a load. She tipped the bedding to the floor in her cleared stall, but barely got the oversized contraption back to vertical.
“I don’t suppose you have any junior-sized barrows?”
Joel shook his head.
She spread the shavings with the pitchfork, a little awkward with the length of the shaft compared to her arm reach, but she didn’t complain. Joel watched her for a minute to make sure she had it, but cleaning stalls wasn’t rocket science, so he went back to work as well.
They continued at their tasks, chatting over the stall walls. Joel had a good time working alongside her. For a novice, she did a decent job. Never complained, didn’t take breaks or try to shortcut. She put her back to the task, wrinkled-nose expression firmly in place, and got it done.
She’d gone quiet in the past ten minutes. Still bouncing, but her energy directed toward finishing. And the expression on her face when he caught a glimpse was no longer as if she were holding her breath, but more as if she was having fun.
Well, what do you know?
They finished about the same time. Joel stepped behind her as Vicki laid a hand on the sidewall of the stall and leaned in. She breathed deeply, and he laughed.
Vicki twisted. “Fucking hell, can we put a bell on you or something?”
“I must be seeing things, because I coulda swore you just sniffed the wall.”
She gave him a hesitant smile. “Okay, it doesn’t stink so bad anymore, so I was, you know, curious. How can it make that much difference we hauled the shit out and, voila, everything is roses?”
“It’s the new bedding. We replaced one scent with another.” He took the pitchfork from her and put it aside. “Admit it. It smells good now.”
“I’m not going to go that far.” Vicki shook her head. “If you bottled eau de barn, I doubt it would be a big seller.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Speaking of surprises…” Vicki held up a hand to put her work on display. “I finished, boss. What do I get?”
He tugged on her sweatshirt sleeve. “Take this off.”
Eyes going wide, Vicki grabbed the bottom and lifted it over her head without a word. As her tank top came into view, Joel decided life was damn good. This might be a reward for her, but he was going to enjoy it too.
He tilted his head toward the stall where they stored extra hay to have it conveniently on hand. The pile was running low, leaving only a few bales, which was exactly what he needed right now. He’d placed a thick horse blanket over the pokey surface. “Have a seat.”
She hesitated for a second before dropping to the bale and facing him. He reached to the top of the post where earlier he’d placed the jar of cream.
“What’s the surprise, Joel? You’re making me nervous.”
“Trust me. You’ll like it.”
Vicki muttered under her breath, but let him step behind her without any more questions. He straddled the bale, scooped up a couple fingers worth of cream and rubbed his hands together. “Pull your hair out of the way,” he ordered.
She gathered it together and hauled the long strands forward, and once again he got caught in her freckles. He slipped his hands over her neck and shoulders, distributing the cream evenly before going back and working it in, using his thumbs to add pressure.
“Oh God, a massage? Yes, of course I’ll clean your horse poop for a massage.” She groaned, tilting her neck forward. “You should have told me. I’d have done your share of the work as well.”
Good firm muscles flexed in her arms and shoulders. Real strength, not fashion-thin soft arms. “You worked hard, I don’t want you to be sore tomorrow.”
She fell silent for a bit, well, not noiseless, but no words. Plenty of sounds, though. Moans and groans and little exhalations of pleasure, and right on schedule, Joel’s hard-on arrived. He ignored it best he could. Figured he was going to spend a lot of the next month or so jerking off in the shower after he’d finished spending time with Vicki.
He traced a finger along her spine, softer now, wanting to feel her reactions. Get her accustomed to his touch. She leaned back when he lifted his hand away, as if attempting to stay in contact.
“Turn and face me.” It was asking for trouble, but what the hell. Live dangerously.
Vicki twisted on the spot, her legs tucked in front of her like she was unsure where to put them. Joel reloaded with cream before he reached for one arm. “Drape your legs over my thighs. I want to do your arms.”
She shrugged and opened her legs, arranging herself over him. Only her head went down, and they lost eye contact.
Damn. He’d embarrassed her. Still, he didn’t stop. Just smoothed his hands down her arm until she relaxed once more.
It was all about getting comfortable. In the barn, around him. Didn’t need to be explained, just experienced. Every minute now would help stop her from freaking as much when actual horses were involved.
And once he had her naked, she’d already be used to him touching her all over. At least that was the plan. If he could hold out long enough to put his grand scheme into effect.
She was halfway onto his lap, body totally open. The sweet scents of the barn, which he did find attractive, surrounded them. As he massaged her hand slowly, adding pressure to the pads of her fingers, she sighed. “You’re good.”
“One of the things I picked up over the years.”
“Hmmm. It’s nice.”
“You get to learn how as well.” Her eyes popped open. “Hey, trust me on this. Any guy you meet who you like? Give him a massage, and he’ll be hooked.”
“Yeah, because what guy doesn’t want a girl touching his naked body?”
“That too.” Joel returned her grin. “Seriously, though. It’s not always about sex.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not bull.”
Her right brow rose. “Don’t guys spend ninety percent of their time thinking about sex?”
“Only the ninety percent of the time we’re not having sex. While we’re having sex, we’re not doing much thinking at all.”
She laughed out loud before considering him closer. “You’re okay, Joel Coleman.”
“Thanks. So are you.”
She surprised him then, catching hold of his hand before he could let her go. “Your turn. Take off your shirt.”
“I didn’t mean today,” he protested.
“I don’t care. You got to touch me, I get to touch you. Only seems fair.”
Oh hell. Joel didn’t think fair should be involved in this discussion at all. Fair was going to change his hard-on from something he could ignore into something that made him crazy.
She didn’t accept no for an answer, though, scrambling to her knees and tugging at his shirtfront. “As much as I like flannel, off with it.”
Fine. He undid his buttons, enjoying the way her gaze stayed pinned to his body as he removed his outer layer.
“Damn it, Joel. A T-shirt? You cold or something?” She bounced on her knees. “Off,” she ordered again.
He stopped himself from asking if she’d done this before because there was no way that would come out right. She wasn’t shy like he’d expected, or least she wasn’t until he lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it on the bale beside them.