Gigi knew it was too hot when she woke up sweating. On one hand, sleeping naked was its own relief, because all it took was a strong breeze to cool her off; on the other, most breezes tended to end eventually, and that just left her to get hot and sticky all over again.

On the third hand—was there a third hand?—living out in the middle of nowhere meant she just had to live with the heat and wait impatiently for summer to go away. Grumbling, she rolled out of the empty bed and onto the floor, falling on her ass; she gave a soft gasp and a not-so-soft bit of profanity, knowing she could get away with it while she was alone.

“Sweet shit, but it’s hot.” The blonde scratched her shoulder and used the bed sheet to wipe her neck dry. It just wasn’t fair—it was halfway through September already! Autumn meant fresh apples and peaches and sweet corn, and it especially meant cooler mornings.

Through the opened bedroom window, Gigi could hear the familiar purr of a tractor’s engine. She’d expected him to be out already—the sun was well and up by that time—but she hurried over to the window anyhow. A Field Marshall tractor, painted green, was rolling up towards the old, Victorian house sitting atop a little hill.

The little farmstead where they lived was a solitary, small place surrounded by Georgia pines on all sides, save for a solitary dirt road that cut through the wilderness in the direction of town—once a month, Daddy would climb into his old pickup and head there for supplies, but he’d be home again before dark. It was a simple, solitary life but Gigi liked her solitary life, and wouldn’t have traded it for the world. She was just a homebody, at heart.

Gigi stood up on her toes in the window and waved at the driver. It made her happy when he raised his hand and waved back. After hurriedly making the bed, tucking sheets and blankets into place, she quickly descended the stairs to the first floor and walked out onto the porch as Daddy shut down the tractor engine. The sun was already hot on her skin as she stretched her arms high over her golden head and rose onto her tiptoes, giving him a show of taut muscles and sun-kissed skin. “Morning, Daddy.”

“Morning, Georgia.” Daddy turned in his seat and looked up at her, a little smile on his face. He was wearing an old, battered leather hat to protect himself from the sun, but that was about it—years of farming had turned his skin a dark, weathered bronze. “You slept in this morning.”

Gigi yawned. “Oh, don’t talk to me about sleep, please!” She rubbed at her neck and harrumphed. “I hate summer mornings.”

“Yes, you’ve said so only about a hundred times this week, so far.” His smile turned more to teasing as he pushed up to stand and climbed onto the porch. When he bent down to kiss her hello, Gigi took the opportunity to curl her hands about his face and turn a tender greeting into something longer and more loving.

Daddy gave a faint grunt of surprise that turned into a contented groan. He was touched with sweat, and when she pulled off his hat, baring his bald head, more of it slid down his scalp and across his temples. His kiss was slightly bitter, and Gigi leaned back to lick her lips. “Salty.”

Daddy raised an eyebrow. He bent his head to quickly swipe a tongue across her neck, then smirked at her as she gasped and laugh. “So are you.”

“Hey!” Gigi took a damp handkerchief he’d been clutching and gently patted it across his brow and cheeks. “Busy morning?”

“Clearing out a small briar patch out by the vegetables,” he answered with a shrug. “Nothing worth waking you over.”

“Daddy.” Gigi gave him a slight frown. “You should have.”

“For a few bushes?” Daddy gave a scoffing sound. “I was done before you woke up. It’s going to be another hot one today; better to get the work done early.”

“Then come inside, you can rest for a spell.” Gigi took her father’s hands and pulled him into the shade of the house’s interior. She’d opened every window last night before bed, so if anymore breezes happened to blow, they’d be able to enjoy them.

Gigi had lived with her father on their little farm all her life: she was born there, had grown up there, and if life was kind, she and her Daddy would stay there for life. It was lonely, sometimes, but that was only because they were a family of two now—her mother Edith had been gone for a few years now, a subject that Gigi still liked not to think about.

Edith was the reason the family had lived the way they did, the solitary life out in the wilderness, unclad and unashamed—after all, Edith often said, who else was there to shame them? Gigi knew that her father still missed her mother badly, so it fell upon her to care for him.

Leading her father into the downstairs sitting room, Gigi sat him on the couch. “Rest, Daddy, I’ll bring you something.” Kissing the top of his smooth crown, Gigi hurried to the summer kitchen and fetched a drinking glass, then worked the pump with one hand; a moment later, fresh, cold water poured over her fingers and she filled the cup for him, then a second for herself. After slicing one of the spare lemons in half, she squeezed it’s bitter juices into the cold glasses for a touch of flavor, then hurried back.

When she entered the sitting room, she stopped. Daddy was asleep, his head resting back against the wall, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape—a soft, near-imperceptible snore oozed from his upper lip.

“Oh, Daddy.” Gigi sighed and set the cold glasses down. For a second she just stared at him—strong, wide-shouldered, handsome man that he was. She considered letting him rest, to urge him to lie down and fetch him a thin blanket, or maybe taking him back upstairs, but then immediately decided otherwise. Daddy was working so hard lately, and Gigi worried that she’d been neglecting him in-between her house chores or other duties—it was only the two of them, after all, and some days it was all they could do just to both fall into bed, bone-tired.

After her mother died, Gigi took it upon herself to see that her father was well-cared for. She took that responsibility seriously, and Gigi intended to remind herself of how serious a matter it was. Pushing her wild hair back, she stepped up to his sleeping form and carefully straddled his lap, leaning in to kiss his temple. “Wake up, Daddy,” she whispered, sliding one hand around his neck. Her other hand reached between them and cupped his soft shaft, gently pulling, squeezing, urging it to wake up.

Daddy sighed and yawned, only half-aware of his surroundings for a moment. “Mm?”

“Wake up, Daddy,” Gigi repeated, louder now, licking her fingers and using that moisture for lubrication before pulling his cock again, coaxing it to fullness, urgent and needy. “Let me take care of you,” she said with a small smile and heavy-lidded eyes.

That was a preview of Homebodies: A Farm Girl Romance Story. To read the rest purchase the book.

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