“Look what the cat dragged in.” Jean snickers.

If it weren’t for this weather, maybe you’d be wearing something… a little less revealing. Farm work is never easy if you’re standing out in the sun with jeans and a long sleeved shirt.

You’re carrying a basket full of apples from your orchard, hair drawn up in a ponytail that’s slung down to your shoulders from plucking apples all morning. Your tank top’s sleeve is drooped to your elbow and, to Jean’s luck, your shorts have ridden up.

That bastard. Your eyes are up here.

He whistles, leaning against the wooden exterior of the stable as his horse whinnies from the inside. “You look as pretty as a summer’s evening, might have to scoop you up on out of here myself.” Jean purrs, clicking his tongue at you.