Everywhere You Need Me

Chapter 1

One

Patrick

“Sheep! Come get your hay!” Walking out of the small barn, I separate the hay out and toss it across the yard. Where the hell are they this morning?

Scratching my head, I search around the yard as my dog comes running my way. Wagging his tail, Mr. Wiggles sniffs out the treats in my pocket, leaving a wet spot on my jeans.

“Morning, boy. You know where the sheep are?”

His slobbery tongue laps over my hand and I sigh, patting him on the head.

I don’t know how I got here. I was never supposed to be a farmer, and sheep always terrified me as a kid.

My old neighbor had a few and their loud crying kept me up all night.

He had a large ram who would charge at anyone who was nearby, and occasionally he got in our yard to eat from my mom’s flower beds.

The bad experiences made me resent all barn animals for a long time and now here I am at age twenty-six running a farm for someone else.

My older brother got into a motorcycle accident and ended up in an induced coma and needing several emergency surgeries.

No telling when he’ll be well enough to come back home.

I’ve only been here a little over a week and I’m already losing my damn mind.

I’m constantly finding hay in places where hay shouldn’t be and accidently washing my pants with corn in my pockets.

Now I’ve lost the damn sheep for a second time this week and I’m over here feeling like Little Bo damn Peep. Great, now that silly nursery rhyme will be in my head all damn day.

“Baaa.” A noise from nearby has me turning around. Twenty sheep and my brother’s Great Pyrenees are rushing my way when a four-wheeler runs up behind them. “Go,” the mystery man shouts, pushing on the gas. “Get the hell off my property.”

He glares my way as the sheep squeeze through the wire fencing, entering my brother’s pasture. They nibble at the hay and lap inside the bucket of mineral lick.

“You need to have better control of your animals.” The engine of the four-wheeler shuts off and the man steps onto the ground, lifting his hat enough off his head for me to see his honey-brown eyes and furrowed brows.

Loose strands of dark hair fall around his face and his fingers rub over his short, neatly trimmed beard.

Holy fucking dream boat. The heat must be getting to me and affecting my brain because no way is he real.

“Did you hear me?” He speaks again, confirming he’s more than a mirage created by my exhaustion.

Swallowing down the thickness in my throat, I struggle to find my words but only unintelligible sounds exit my mouth.

His eyes squint and he plucks the top wire of the fence I put up a few days ago. “Your fence isn’t even on. No wonder your animals got out.”

“They aren’t my animals,” I finally say, my words almost tangling together.

He narrows in on me and shoves one of his hands in the pocket of his form-fitting jeans.

Fuck, I sure wouldn’t mind having those tree-trunk thighs pressed to the back of mine.

It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten laid, and it shows.

Where did this man even come from? He’s straight out of one of those small-town romance novels, and a part of me wishes he’d come over here to ask if he could plow me with his tractor.

Then again, maybe I’m mixing up romance stories with porn.

Note to self: be sure to search for farm porn later, specifically with hot Hispanic men in cowboy hats dressed in Wranglers.

“Who the hell do they belong to, then?” His words bring me out of my stupor.

Tugging on the front of my shirt, I stare around as if searching for the answer behind me. “It’s uh, my brother’s farm. I’m watching over it for him.”

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he snaps. “If they keep getting into my yard, I won’t have any more grass left. Get that fence fixed.”

My shoes dig into the dirt and sweat gathers between my brows. “I will, I promise. I’m really sorry.”

“I bet you are. I come out here every summer to enjoy some peace and quiet. That’s hard to do when your sheep are chewing up my yard, baaing non-stop and rubbing against the siding of my house.”

Not going to lie, I’m tempted to go over there later and rub myself over something too.

“It won’t happen again. You have my word,” I say, sounding more convincing than I feel.

I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, and for all I know, I set the fence up wrong.

All I have is the internet to assist me, and so far the results have been hit or miss, right along with the Wi-Fi connection.

“Is that supposed to be reassuring? Because it’s not. If you don’t know how to handle things here yourself, then hire a damn ranch hand.”

If only ranch hands didn’t cost an arm and leg.

Not everyone can afford to have such luxuries, and by the sound of his tone, money isn’t an issue for him.

Must be nice to be walking around with money to burn.

Perhaps he can throw some my way and solve both our problems. “Yeah, sure. Okay. You have a nice rest of your day.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Grinding his teeth, he shoves his hat lower on his head and hops back on his four-wheeler, throwing a leg over each side of the large seat.

He lifts his hips before lowering them back down, releasing a low grunt, and my cock stirs in my pants.

Never have I been so jealous of a seat before.

The loud engine roars as he presses a button on the handlebar, and before he leaves, he points to the fence.

“Make sure no metal is touching it and wires aren't crossed before turning it on again. It’s probably grounded out somewhere,” he shouts before reversing the four-wheeler and heading in the opposite direction.

His round ass bounces on the back seat the faster he drives.

Holy corn on a cob, I need to get a grip.

I’ve noticed the white two-story house before, but figured it was vacant due to never seeing anyone coming or going.

The property has zero animals on it, and the land around the house is a lot bigger than my brother’s.

What does he use it for? Crops maybe? All I can make out from this distance is a large red barn.

Maybe he used to have cattle or horses and sold them all.

Wiping my dripping forehead with the back of my hand, I squeeze past two sheep and walk toward the white fencing.

Bending low to the ground, I examine each line going across the white posts, but stop moving when I spot two wires wrapped around each other and a metal wire sticking out of the ground touching another one.

I turn off the fence, and after fixing the wires and removing the metal, I turn it back on.

Grabbing the fence fault detector from my back pocket, I shove the metal stick into the ground and release it before setting the hook on the top of the box on all three of the lines.

Six out of eight lights blink, and I squeal a little in excitement when everything is working how it should.

My new neighbor knew a lot more about electric fencing than I expected he would.

I wonder what other farm-related pointers he could give me, and would any of them lead to us being naked in his barn at the same time?

The images of our sweaty bodies moving together while he bends me over a bale of hay has me acting without thinking clearly and I place my hand on the stick in the ground at the same time as touching my fingers to the other end, shocking the fuck out of myself.

Jumping back, I release both pieces, feeling unsteady from the vibration shaking me on the inside.

My friends are always telling me my dirty-ass mind will eventually get me into trouble—they weren’t wrong.

I’ll be feeling that voltage running through me all day, when I’d much rather be struggling to walk back to the house due to taking my neighbor’s cock in my ass.

Now that’s the kind of pain I’d gladly welcome any time.

Him being an asshole should have turned me off, but all it did was have me wishing I was the seat he was bouncing up and down on.

Then again I have always been attracted to the wrong type of men.

Assholes are my damn kryptonite and now I can add scary, mysterious to the list.

Shaking my arms in front of me, I try to bring the feeling back into my hands before picking up the fence fault detector the right way and walking back to the house.

Glancing down at my hay-covered clothes, I dust myself off and kick my boots off at the welcome mat. It’s definitely seen better days, caked in dirt and missing letters from the word “welcome.”

My dog follows me inside and rushes toward his food bowl, wagging his tail after nearly knocking me over.

“Yes, boy. I know. I’m hungry too.”

The wooden floor is cold on my feet, reaching right through my socks as I walk toward the kitchen.

Shrugging my jacket off onto the nearest chair, I empty my pockets on the counter and rummage through the cabinets.

I’m still learning what’s where and that my brother isn’t the most organized man in the world.

Let’s be real, the man’s a fucking slob, and the amount of time I’ve been here has been nowhere near enough to get everything to my liking.

Sighing loudly, I rub my noisy stomach while bringing down several cans of soup.

I swear there’s at least a year’s supply in here, ranging from chicken to vegetable and beef.

He’s the only person I’ve ever known to mix their food with their cups.

I guess it makes it easy on the days you want to drink your dinner.

I need to take a trip into town and grab some groceries.

The kind that don’t scream out doomsday hoarder.