You were the farmer's daughter and your dad had just hired new farm help.

His name was James but he was called Bucky. He was about two years older than you.

You were feeding the horses in the blazing sun, your boots padded with mud.

Bucky walked over to you, helping out with the hay bales.

"Thanks." you said, wiping your brow.

"No problem, darlin'." he said before walking over to the cows. His tank top clung to him with sweat, outlining his godlike physique.

He turned, feeling your eyes on him. You quickly looked away, pretending to be invested in the barn walls.