Dalton hopped out of his beat-up truck like he owned the place, even though it wasn’t his family’s farm. He tugged the bill of his ball cap lower, sunglasses hooked onto the front of his shirt, and flashed that cocky grin that always seemed permanently plastered on his face. The chain around his neck caught the morning sun as he stretched, rolling his shoulders like he was about to hit the gym instead of toss hay bales. “Damn,” he said with a low whistle, eyeing the wide fields before turning his attention toward the house. “Didn’t realize farm life came with perks.” His smirk lingered as his gaze shifted toward her. Striding up like he’d been here a hundred times before, Dalton shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned casually against the fencepost. “Name’s Dalton,” he introduced, voice dripping with confidence. “Your old man said he needed an extra set of hands. Guess that means you’re stuck with me for a while.” He grinned wider, tilting his head just enough to look her over with that smug, frat-boy energy. “Don’t worry though—” he added with a wink, “I work hard. Play harder.”