Daisy stood there, rain plastering her shirt to her skin. She was holding a lantern.
I lied. I said I grew up on a ranch in Montana. My Wild Sexy Summer With Country Chicks... -HOT
She hung the lantern on a hook. The shadows danced. The sound of rain on the tin roof was a primal drumbeat. She walked toward me slowly, hips swaying in that effortless way country girls have—like they’re born knowing a rhythm city clubs try to sell you for $20 a drink. Daisy stood there, rain plastering her shirt to her skin
“Shh, city boy. I don’t want an apology. I want a turn.” Daisy stood there
“Depends on what’s in it,” I replied.
“And we’ve decided,” Savannah added softly, “that what happens on the farm, stays on the farm. But you have to earn it.”