"Just about," I said. "At this point, I only need to check where you store your hay, I can come back and finish the rest of the paperwork another day."
He nodded his head, once, and his hair fell into his eyes before he brushed it away.
"Come on," he said, and turned away again to lead me towards yet another large metal building. He actually spoke to me! It wasn't exactly a declaration of undying love, but it was more than he'd volunteered the entire time I'd been on the farm.
Inside, the building was dark and low, with haybales stacked above my head in long, maze-like rows. I always felt like I was in a corn maze when I inspected haybales.
"What do you need to do here?" he asked.
"I need to walk through and check for mold or rot on the hay. It won't kill your inspection if I find one or two problematic bales, as long as there is no evidence you intended to feed them to the sheep."
He snorted again. That seemed to be his preferred method of communication, at least with me.
As we walked through the rows of bales of hay lit by a collection of dusty florescent bulbs, everything seemed to be in order. This part of the inspection was pretty perfunctory, there was no way for one lone official to check every bite of hay that would be fed to sheep on a farm or ranch of any size.
I tried to keep my mind on the job, but, occasionally, when one of us would turn to peer at a bale, my shoulder would brush Clint's, or his hand would ghost across my elbow or back as he pointed something out to me. Every time we touched, even through layers of our clothing, I'd shiver.
Turning a corner, a snake, startled by our appearance, slithered from one bale across the passage to disappear underneath another stack. At the same moment, I leaped away from it and crashed into Clint, my heart beating quickly. I may, in fact, have squealed a little.
Clint gripped my arms in his powerful hands and held me still, my back pressed against his chest.
"Calm down," he said. "Easy. It's just here for the mice. You can't have hay without mice."
I could feel my arms trembling in his grasp, although I didn't know whether that was from fear or the feeling of his calloused fingers against my skin. He kept one arm gripped firmly, but stroked the other as though I were a nervous horse, which, I suppose, wasn't too unreasonable.
I laughed a little bit, shakily.
"You know, every time I see a snake when I'm on a visit, I tell myself that the next time, I won't make a fool of myself, and then, the next time happens," I said, "and I end up in a strange man's arms with my clipboard on the floor."
Oh, have mercy. I could actually feel him chuckle. I didn't know what turned me on more, feeling the vibration of his amusement against my back, or knowing that I had made him laugh. I had to get away from him immediately, or 'making a fool of myself' would be just the beginning. Could I get fired for sexually harassing a rancher?
I twisted away from his stroking hand before I actually caught fire from his touch and tried to pull away from his other hand, but apparently keeping me where I was was no more difficult than lifting a hay bale or restraining a sheep, both of which I'd seen him do with ease.
"Please let me go. I'm really fine," I said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah! Really, quite fine. Just a snake. Never been better."
He let me go, but he looked me in the eyes for the first time, and he smiled at me. His eyes were so blue, surprising with his dark hair. He smiled almost in slow motion, a lopsided grin that finally stayed put as he looked me over, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops and relaxing for the first time since I'd met him. He didn't look angry or wary, he seemed to simply savor his amusement at my unprofessional behavior.
"Never?" he asked. "Never, ever?"
Ten minutes ago, I wouldn't have believed he could tease anyone. If I'd known that a shriek and a stumble were all it took to get him to actually talk, I would have developed a sudden-onset fear of sheep three hours back. It would have been difficult, as there's not much that's less terrifying than a bored ewe, but I suppose I could have been intimidated by the sheer number.
Damn. I was already babbling inside, already aching for him to touch me again. I bent down to get my clipboard, and when I stood back up, I might have been crazy, but I'm pretty sure I saw him check out my ass. His eyes jerked towards the ceiling when I could see his face, at least, and if that wasn't the reaction of a man caught taking a peek, I don't know what is.
It's a pretty good ass. I might check it out too, if it weren't mine. There are better posteriors out there - I was three feet away from a man with a sterling example - but mine is high and firm and pleasantly round.
Damn, I've really got to keep it together. This is so unprofessional, but I'm somehow finding it difficult to care with his eyes on me.
I turned quickly and march away, using my pen to point at haybales absentmindedly. When I reached the exit, I wheeled around and came close to running into him again, I didn't realize he was so close. Once I'd turned, I could smell him, the spicy s
cent of his sweat and aftershave mixing together.
"Right!" I said, "Okay! I think we can be done here for today. Everything looks really good. Really tidy. I don't think you're hiding anything. Not that you would, of course. Why would you hide anything?"
Get it together, I told myself. You're babbling like an idiot. I paused to get my thoughts together.