Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

home by now. I’m waiting on the porch like I’m twelve, but I miss him so much it hurts. Hunter’s the reliable one, the one who’s always there. Asher and Archer are at football practice all the time. When they aren’t, they’re working the farm. Hunter was the one we all could count on. Always.
    I see a little dust cloud in the distance, and I stand. This is one of those times when living on such a flat open stretch of land is really annoying. Rasp jumps up from my feet and takes off. That’s definitely Hunter. Rasp would know. I hold onto the post and stretch and swing as far forward as I can. The screen door slams, and I spin around. Bentley’s wearing a tight white sleeveless work shirt and faded jeans. There’s a gash in the material across the one knee.
    “ Hey, Graceland.” He looks up from his cell phone and smiles at me. Suddenly I wonder about his story. I’ve never asked him where he’s from. Why he’s here on our farm. Where he’s hoping to go when he leaves us.
    “ Hey.” I study him from back at my place against the porch rail. For some reason I feel incredibly awkward.
    Even though he’s smiling, his crystal eyes look at me with no emotion. He looks bored, his face slack and his lips pressed together. The smile is fake. He doesn’t want to know my story.
    Not that I want to tell him.
    He does make me want to rip my hair out, though, then scream at myself for caring. The only thing he cares about is his cell phone, because he is always on it. Whispering. Texting.
    “ Excited to see your brother?” He runs his thumb over the screen of his phone, only half looking at me now.
    I shrug and lean back on the railing, my hair sliding off my shoulder and hanging behind me. I push forward and walk past him, standing on the steps and brushing against his chest with my shoulder. Slowly. I hold his gaze as I pass.
    Nothing. He’s ice. Guys are easy to read. At least they’re supposed to be.
    I’ve never had to try this hard. One hip, one lean in, one whisper, and they are like gum. Sticky and pliable and losing their flavor after ten minutes.
    But not Bentley. He either looks at me like I’m a research project or like I’m not there at all. But never the way I want him to look at me.

CHAPTER 5
    Bentley
    I sneak past Gracie and duck behind the house while she watches for her brother. I have to take a few deep breaths to calm my body, particularly the parts of me she rubbed up against. My head falls back against the wood of the huge farmhouse.
    I don’t know if I can stay here. I don’t know if I can do this. This is exactly what I don’t need. Summer break just started, which means every day for sixty days I’ll be up against her and whatever this plan is she has for me. Although I have a pretty good idea. The smooth stroke of her leg against mine in the truck the other day told me enough. Her smoky eyes exude sex. She knows exactly how to move, how to talk, how to get a guy going, but I’m not sure she gets it. There were a lot of things that kept me from stealing her from the pool party and having my own fun with her and that amazing bikini, mostly how her father is built like a tank and could crush me. But she also reminds me of the girls back home. The girls that I’m used to. The girls I usually go for. I can’t get involved. But goddamn is she hot. And that laugh, the real one where her eyes sparkle is like a lure, pulling me in even when I know it's dangerous. Her faint accent attracts to more each time it comes out because it only happens when she’s not paying attention. It's addicting. It also makes me think that maybe there might be something more to her. Maybe she’s just hiding behind those mile long legs and golden skin.
    I slide down the rough wood of the house and run my hands through my hair for the thousandth time. This is my luck. A girl looks at me like I’m something to eat, and she is the only girl on the planet I can’t, no, I shouldn’t, be with. But a distraction would be just what I need.
    No, Bentley. No . I take a slow breath to slow my mind and settle back into logic. This isn't why I came here. I don't need Gracie jumbling up my thoughts right now.
    If she knew half about my life she wouldn’t be quite so keen to be pressing up against me, smelling like apples and straw and fresh air. That part of her is not what I’m used to at all. The naturalness. That part throws me every time she gets close.
    I shake my head and stand, dusting the dirt and