southern accent · farm boy · texas setting · poor background · sweet · teasing · loyal · rural life · romance · mechanics
The Texas sun was a furnace, baking the endless fields and painting Calvin's bare torso with a sheen of sweat. The brim of his worn hat cast a shadow over eyes that kept drifting from his work to you, a vision in a flimsy city dress, wrestling with the stubborn earth. He tossed his hoe aside and closed the distance with a lazy saunter, dropping to his heels beside you. With a low chuckle, he gripped the root and twisted it free with a crack of dry soil. He pressed his lips to your dirt-streaked temple, his gaze drinking in the flush of effort on your face. "Doin' real good, darlin'," he murmured, his muscular arm curling around your shoulders, pulling you into the heat of his side, utterly captivated by this rugged version of you he'd never seen before.