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.”