Disclaimer: This fic is rated 'M' language and sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did).
Early June…
Peeta glanced down at the rumpled up piece of paper in his hand, squinting his eyes in an attempt to decipher the row of numbers now smudged by his fingers. With handwriting like this, I should be a doctor, he thought to himself as he frowned at his own chicken-scratch excuse for writing. If only his phone got reception this far out of the city, he wouldn't be in this predicament.
According to Google Maps, the Everdeen farm was 3.4 miles west of County Line 12, but according to his odometer, he was already 6 miles in with still no sign of a homestead. Everywhere he looked, he was surrounded by a sea of green. Short stalks with long leaves fluttered in the breeze, forming tight rows that were interrupted by random outcrops of trees here and there. Any other day and this would have been an idyllic moment, one he'd probably consider capturing in his sketchbook. But not today. Not when he had somewhere to be.
He scratched at his day-old stubble and with a long, drawn out sigh, started up his car again. A quick check in the rearview mirror confirmed there was no one coming up behind him (not that he'd seen another soul in sight over the past half hour), so with a tight swivel of the steering wheel, he turned his car around and headed back down the dusty country road.
Not a minute later, something caught his eye. It was a small break in the fields that could easily have been missed, but as he slowed to take a better look, it appeared to be a narrow dirt driveway. A faded sign half-hidden by the overgrowth of grass thankfully matched the numbers he was sure were scribbled on the paper in his lap, and for the first time that day, his spirits lifted.
After turning down the path, a small group of buildings popped out over the horizon, along with a tiny spark of hope that he was indeed headed towards some hint of civilization. Whether it was the Everdeen farm or not, at least he could stop and ask for directions.
If it had been any other summer, Peeta would have spent it at home, working at his dad's bakery like his brothers before him. But not this year. This year required a change. Being his last summer before starting college, this was his final chance to try something new. Thankfully his dad had been all for the idea and suggested that if he really wanted to try something different, something that would really leave a lasting impression on him and challenge him in new ways, he said to look for something outside the city. This eventually led to the idea of working as a farmhand on one of the numerous farms located on the outskirts of the city. Three inquires and one phone call later, Peeta had landed himself a summer position at the Everdeen farm, one of the smaller family farms devoted primarily to the production of grains.
When the buildings in front of him no longer resembled miniatures, he could make out what he assumed to be a barn, a smaller storage shed of some sort, and a white two-story house complete with a quintessential wraparound porch and dark green shutters. All it needed were two rocking chairs and a coon hound fast asleep on the steps and it'd be scene straight out of a Wilson Rawls novel.
A rusty red pickup truck loomed into view and he spotted a man unloading wooden crates out of the truck bed along with a young girl perched on the tailgate. When he finally came to a stop a little ways from the house, Peeta killed the engine and took a deep breath, hoping this was the right place.
"Howdy," the man greeted with a hearty smile.
"Hello," Peeta answered, shutting the car door behind him. He wiped his palms down the front of his jeans before offering an outstretched hand to the man. "I'm Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Is this the Everdeen farm?"
"It sure is, glad to see you made it!" The man's easy smile set Peeta's restless nerves at ease. "I'm Mr. Everdeen, but you can call me Jack, most everyone does around here."
At first glance, Mr. Everdeen appeared to be in his early forties. Not a large man, but not weak-looking by any means. His tanned skin was witness to long days spent in the sun and tips of dark brown hair curled out from under a weathered blue baseball cap.
A tiny giggle from the tailgate caused Peeta to turn his attention to the young girl who was swinging her legs carelessly through the air.
"Well," Mr. Everdeen continued, "almost everyone calls me that. To this little one though, I go by the likes of 'Dad'." He scrunched his face up and stuck out his tongue at the girl. "This would be Primrose, my youngest."
"But you can call me Prim," the girl chimed in before returning the silly face in the direction of her dad. "Most everyone does around here," she added in a low voice, blatantly mocking him.
Peeta couldn't help but chuckle at the free and easy banter between father and daughter. Oddly though, they looked nothing alike. With Prim's wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion, she was more likely to pass off as his own sister than Mr. Everdeen's offspring.
The man let out a hearty laugh before turning back to Peeta. "I hope the place wasn't too hard to find?"
"Nah, not too hard," he answered. Major understatement.
"Well that's good to hear. For years I've been meaning to put up a proper sign for the place, but, uh, it's still pretty low on the priority list for the time being." Mr. Everdeen finished unloading the last crate from the truck and gently swatted at his daughter. She promptly hopped off and shut the tailgate behind her. Her dad reached down to tweak the end of her nose and said, "You better get a move on and help your Mama. She'll be expecting some help with supper."
"Yes, sir," Prim answered with a salute before scurrying up the front steps and disappearing into the house.
Mr. Everdeen rocked back on his heels and swiveled around to face Peeta. "Well, first things first, let me help you with your bags and we'll get you all squared away."
"That's alright, I can manage." Peeta retreated back to his car to fetch his duffle bag and backpack from the trunk and lifted them into the air. "I packed light."
He didn't think it made any sense to pack much, just a few pairs of jeans, a couple shorts, and a bunch of t-shirts he didn't mind getting wrecked considering the nature of the manual labor he was expecting. There was no sense in bringing his laptop or any other electronic device; if he was going to get the full country living experience, he was going to do it right. Besides a few framed family photos, the only other pieces of his life from the city he thought to bring were his sketchpad, a pack of pencils, and charcoals.
"So, we've put you up in the apartment over the tool shed," Mr. Everdeen said as he motioned to Peeta to follow him towards a small building across from the house. "I hope you don't mind, my wife thought a young guy like you'd appreciate the privacy up there. There's a washroom but you'll take your meals with us at the main house. Feel free to make use of the family room whenever you like, there's a television and phone for when you'd like to keep in touch with your folks."
The tool shed had a faint musty smell, not exactly offensive, but it made Peeta's nose wrinkle until he got used to the odor. A set of stairs towards the back led up to a second floor and the old boards creaked loudly as they made their ascent. Well, at least he'd have fair warning whenever someone was coming up. When they reached the second floor, Peeta was secretly relieved at the sight of his summer home. The room was quaint but clean, outfitted with a comfy looking bed, nightstand, and desk. It was definitely nothing to grumble about, and as Mr. Everdeen said, it was his own space.
After setting his bags down on the bed, Peeta immediately made his way over to the window and propped it open.
"Oh, uh, one other thing," Mr. Everdeen said as he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "There's no AC up here so you're right to make use of the window. But there's a fan in the closet there if you need it." He walked over to the worn mahogany armoire and retrieved an ancient oscillating fan that he placed on the desk. "Now, how 'bout a tour of the place?"
During the short 15-minute trip in the passenger seat of the truck, Peeta tried his best to commit to memory a mental map of the property in relation to all the buildings. The main structures included the farmhouse, the tool shed where he'd be staying, and a barn that housed a few dozen chickens, a couple cows, and a goat (which Mr. Everdeen made sure to mention was Prim's pride and joy). The workable land was made up of a hundred acres of cash grain fields, corn or soybeans depending on the year, and a small creek ran along the west side of the property, separating it from the neighboring farm.
For the majority of the ride Peeta remained quiet, listening tentatively to his new boss and trying to get a feel for his personality. Finally Mr. Everdeen turned to him and asked, "So, any questions?"
"Just one," Peeta answered as he turned his face Mr. Everdeen. "So what exactly will I be doing around here?"
Mr. Everdeen chuckled. "Anything and everything. But by the looks of it, seems like you have a good head on your shoulders and know a thing or two about pulling your own weight."
Peeta squared his shoulders in response, glad his stocky stature didn't go unnoticed. "I'm used to hard work, if that's what you mean. My father owns a bakery but it's not all cakes and bread; I'm used to hauling around a hundred pound bags of flour. Oh, and I was on the wrestling team in high school."
"Well, I wouldn't be too worried then, nothing you can't handle I'm sure. We'll start you out with helping around the barn…mucking out the stalls, hauling hay, and whatnot. Then we'll get you out in the fields and up on the ol' tractor. When you're not busy with that, there's always something around that needs fixin'. The life of a farmer—" he paused and drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel before continuing, "—not everyone's cut out for it."
Peeta couldn't help but take that as a challenge. He'd never entered into anything half-heartedly and he wasn't about to start now. It was all in with both feet or not at all. Despite the long hours and back-breaking work he knew was in store for him, the property was beautiful and he'd already taken note of over a dozen spots he'd like to capture on paper during his free time. That is, if he ever got any.
When the farmhouse finally came back into view, the sun had already started it's decent over the horizon, but something was different. There was another truck parked in the driveway that hadn't been there when they left.
"That'll be my first born, Katniss. She'd be about your age I reckon. How old are you anyway, son?"
"I turned nineteen this past fall."
"Ain't that a coincidence! Katniss turned nineteen not long ago, too." Peeta nodded, relieved that there would be someone else his age around here to hang around with. "Well, how about we start you off in the barn tomorrow morning and Katniss can help show you the ropes. Sound like a plan?"
"Sounds fine to me."
"Good. Now, supper's not gonna get any warmer, what'd you say we go meet the rest of the family?"
He followed Mr. Everdeen through a side entrance to the house and as he toed off his shoes in the foyer, the distinct sound of female voices echoed down the hall. It was quickly followed by the unmistakable smell of fried chicken and something he was quite certain was drowning in butter. He inhaled deeply and his mouth began to water in anticipation.
After the death of his mother over five years ago, home cooked meals around the table were a rare event for a single dad with three teenaged boys. Most nights were spent around the television, watching the game with plates balanced on their laps. Although his dad was a baker, and a damn good one at that, he quickly learned the title wasn't the equivalent to a cook.
Peeta followed Mr. Everdeen into the mudroom to wash up, taking note of the layout of the house. Numerous framed photographs that ranged from black and white to sepia tone to color covered the walls of the hallway that led to what he expected to be the dining room. The place had a warm, homey feel. It was definitely well-lived in, which made leaving his own home that much easier.
The voices down the hall grew louder with each step and he wasn't sure why, but his pulse quickened in anticipation, unsure of what he was about to walk into. However, nothing could have prepared him for his first glimpse of the oldest Everdeen daughter.
The first things he noticed were her eyes, which caught his the moment he entered the room, stopping him dead in his tracks. She stared at him for a moment before her gaze slowly drifted down his body, and then back up again to his face. Peeta swallowed thickly under the scrutiny. It wasn't a suggestive look, as if she was checking him out, but rather the way an opponent sizes up the competition. And he would know, especially from his years of competitive wrestling.
A heavy hand on his shoulder broke him from her trance. "Have a seat, son."
Mr. Everdeen gestured to the empty chair to his right, straight across from the grey-eyed beauty who was seated to his left. "Peeta, I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Lily," he said, nodding towards the woman who sat opposite him at the other end of the table. She smiled back at him warmly and bowed her head. "And this here is Katniss." He reached over and patted the back of his daughter's hand, which Peeta noticed was clenched tightly around her fork.
"Nice to meet you," he said with a nod to Mrs. Everdeen before turning back to face Katniss. He lean in over the table and offered her both a polite smile and his hand, but all he received in return was a frown. Well, this is going to be a long summer, he thought to himself as he took his seat and draped his napkin across his lap.
Peeta thought it best to sit back and observe the first night in order to get a sense of the family dynamics before attempting to ease himself into their everyday lives. Overall, the family was pleasant and welcoming, with both Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen taking the time to ask him the usual barrage of questions about his family, childhood, and interests. Even Prim chimed in every once in awhile, although her curiosities all seemed to revolve around his dad's bakery and all the different flavors of cakes and cupcakes they specialized in.
For the most part, the rest of dinner passed in amiable conversation and the Everdeens seemed genuinely happy of his presence. Although they showed great interest in getting to know him, there still wasn't a hint of interest from the indifferent pair of steel grey eyes across the table.
Mrs. Everdeen didn't disappoint with dinner, and he soon found himself pleasantly full. So he was both surprised and worried when she presented a chocolate cake for dessert, unsure if it would be rude to turn down a slice his first night there. Although he wasn't a stranger to sugar confections, the dessert course wasn't usually a part of his family dinners at home. As the cake was cut, the topic of conversation somehow turned to his plans for the future.
"So, Peeta, smart guy like you, I'm assuming you've made the decision to pursue a higher level of education?" Mr. Everdeen asked after cleaning off a forkful of cake.
The clatter of another fork as it hit the table across from him caused his attention to shift to Katniss momentarily. The visible change in her demeanor was unmistakable, from her stiffened appearance to her lips that almost disappeared into a tight line. He hesitated for a few seconds, waiting for some sort of reaction based on the girl's strange behavior, but she remained silent and he eventually turned back to Mr. Everdeen to answer his question.
"Yes, sir, I was fortunate enough to receive a scholarship to State, so of course I couldn't turn it down," he said proudly, recalling the relief he felt when he'd received his acceptance letter. Although his dad's bakery did well enough and he'd been saving up for college for years, the amount of disposable income in the Mellark household still always seemed to be on the low side, no thanks to the debt his late mother had left them with after her passing. It wasn't until a year after the funeral that he'd learned the full extent of his mother's struggle with alcohol, and years later, he was still finding random bottles scattered throughout the house and yard in the most bizarre places.
Peeta shook his head, not wanting to go down that road, especially after finally coming to peace with it.
"Well that's wonderful!" Mrs. Everdeen beamed. "Katniss was accepted to State as well, but she hasn't quite made a decision yet."
"Mama!" Katniss shouted, her sudden outburst causing Peeta to smear a bit of icing on the corner of his mouth as he almost missed his bite of cake. He hastily wiped it away before she continued. "Ugh! We've been through this a hundred times already, I'm not going!"
Peeta sunk slowly back into his chair, trying not to direct any attention his way and feeling suddenly out of place for being caught in the middle of what was obviously a private family matter.
"Katniss!" Mr. Everdeen's eyes narrowed as he shook the end of his fork in his daughter's direction. "You do not talk to your mother in that tone, young lady, you hear me?"
With a huff, Katniss crossed her arms over her chest and fell back against her chair with a loud thump. "Whatever," she mumbled under her breath.
Mr. Everdeen dropped his utensil and glared at Katniss. "Is this how you act in front of our guest?"
"He's not a guest," she said with jut of her chin in his direction. "He's the hired help."
"That is enough! He is our guest so long as he's here and you'll treat him as such, are we clear?"
Katniss stared angrily back at her father, her features defiant yet radiant with a hint of a fire behind her eyes. "Crystal," she said, pushing away from the table and abandoning her dessert. "Excuse me. I've seemed to have lost my appetite." And with as much grace as a raging bull, she stomped out of the dining room. Her footsteps echoed down the hall until they were finally silenced by the slamming of a door.
Mr. Everdeen shook his head in obvious disappointment of his eldest daughter's lack of manners and finally turned to Peeta, offering him an apologetic shrug. Peeta straightened up in his chair, swallowing the lump of cake that seemed to be stuck in his throat, and smiled back nervously.
It was Prim's sweet voice that eventually broke the uncomfortable silence. "Don't worry, Peeta, just your typical, every day dinner at the Everdeen residence." Her toothy grin was somewhat reassuring but he could feel his cheeks flush. The whole thing was embarrassing to witness and, if he was being honest, unintentionally being the segue to the taboo topic of college was unbelievably awkward.
With a deep breath, he opted for humor in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Trust me, I've spent the last five years in a house full of men, so I'd say this was pretty tame in comparison." He grinned at Mrs. Everdeen who eventually smiled back, relief washing over her face.
"Well, no use beating around the bush," Mr. Everdeen said after brushing the crumbs off his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "You see, Peeta, this year's the first I've ever inquired for some help around here. I'm not getting any younger. Katniss, however, is under the impression that she can pick up the slack all on her own. Now don't get me wrong, the girl's got more determination and heart than any man out there, but when it comes to the physical nature of some parts of the job, well…" He gestured into the air but didn't need to elaborate.
During the short time he'd spent in the presence of Katniss, Peeta had quickly gathered that she was a feisty one and not to be reckoned with, but the truth of the matter was, her petite stature meant there were limitations to her physical capabilities.
"So, to put it plainly, she doesn't think I need to be here," Peeta finished, quite certain he didn't need any further explanation.
"Right you are." Mr. Everdeen grinned. "See, I knew you were a smart one."
Peeta just smiled and offered a shrug before polishing off the piece of cake still sitting on his plate. After a first impression like that, tomorrow was going to be quite the challenge. But he was always up for a challenge. And Katniss Everdeen had already proven to be a challenge that he was more than happy to take on.
Bright and early the next morning after a surprisingly restful sleep, Peeta splashed a handful of cold water onto his face and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. It was officially his first day of work and despite the rocky start the evening before, he was feeling hopeful. There was a spring in his step as he puttered about the room, humming off-tune as he dug through his duffle bag in search of his favorite pair of jeans and a t-shirt. If his first day was to be spent in the barn tagging along after Katniss, he wanted to be comfortable and appear as non-threatening as possible in the hopes of smoothing things over and rectifying their less than stellar initial introduction.
By the time he'd made his way over to the farmhouse for breakfast, he was already running later than he'd hoped, no thanks to his uncontrollable curls that somehow defied gravity each morning. He was seriously regretting not shaving his head for the summer, but per usual, it was nothing his trusty old ball cap couldn't hide.
He was greeted at the table by Prim's welcoming smile and to no surprise, a scowl from Katniss. A good night's sleep obviously hadn't done anything to improve her mood, but too bad for her, the way her nose crinkled up at the corners was anything but menacing.
"You're late." Katniss's voice was as flat as the farmland that surrounded them.
"Good morning to you, too," he answered politely; trying to hide his surprise that she'd at least acknowledged him as he took a seat across from her.
From the kitchen he heard the clinking of dishes, and not a moment later Mrs. Everdeen entered the dining room balancing a tray in one hand a coffee pot in the other. "Oh! Good morning, Peeta! How'd you sleep? It wasn't too hot for you up there in that room, was it? I sure hope Jack showed you where the fan is."
"I slept just fine, Ma'am, thank you. And yes, he did."
"Would you like some coffee?" She motioned with the pot to the empty mug in front of him.
"Um, no thank you, I'm not much of a coffee drinker. Would you by any chance happen to have any tea?"
"Of course, of course! What kind would you like?" She placed the tray of steaming hot pancakes in the center of the table and wiped her hands on the front of her apron.
"I'll take whatever you have. I'm not picky when it comes to tea."
With that, the woman hurried back into the kitchen with her apron strings trailing out behind her. He'd come to the conclusion early on that Mrs. Everdeen was the type of woman who was eager to please, but he found himself wondering how much of the trait was passed on to her eldest daughter. Oddly enough, he had a peculiar urge to find out.
Why do I even care?
Perhaps it was the fact that others generally liked him and that most felt at ease in his presence. He wasn't used to people disliking him for reasons outside of his control. If only she'd take the time to get to know him…
The loud grumble of protest from his stomach caused his cheeks to flush. He surveyed the overly generous spread of food that lined the middle of the table, which proved to be the textbook definition of a farmer's breakfast. Eggs, bacon, two types of toast, hash browns, baked beans, and of course the steaming stack of pancakes next to a bottle of dark amber maple syrup.
Do they eat like this every morning?
Not a single one of the Everdeens was carrying around an extra ounce of weight, which led him to believe the smorgasbord was all for his benefit. It was a good thing his job entailed manual labor because there was no doubt he'd otherwise pack on the pounds from Mrs. Everdeen's country cooking.
After filling his plate with a hefty portion of scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon, and two pancakes, he looked up to find Katniss buttering a piece of toast, blatantly back to playing her game of obliviousness towards his existence. He wasn't going to push it, so instead he turned to Prim. "So, where's your dad this morning?"
"Oh, he was up hours ago to milk the cows. He's most likely in the fields by now though."
Just then Mrs. Everdeen re-entered the room with a box of tea bags in hand and a steaming kettle of hot water that she set down next to him. "That's right, and he asked that you go out and meet him whenever you're done here."
"Oh, uh, I thought I was supposed to help Katniss in the barn today." He ventured an inquiring glance at Katniss, knowing full well his efforts were futile.
He was met with silence on all fronts and no more than a nonchalant shrug from Mrs. Everdeen before she turned back to the kitchen.
God this is awkward, he though as he shoveled a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. Was he ever going to get used to being around so many women under one roof?
The sound of his own chewing was enough to drive him into forced conversation. "So, what does everyone do around here?" he asked as he tore open a package of tea and tossed the bag into his empty cup. As he poured the water, Prim nudged the sugar pot in his direction. "No thanks."
He wasn't sure why he even attempted a glace over to Katniss. He obviously wasn't going to get a word out of her based on the fact that she was now staring out the window.
"Well, most morning I help tend to the animals," Prim said with a hint of pride. "I collect the eggs, feed Lady—that's my goat—and then after I help Mama with the washing or the floors. Afternoons are pretty quiet though. I either spend time in my room or go visit my friend Rue who lives two concessions over."
There was a muffled scoff from across the table. He wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he thought for sure he'd heard Katniss mumble, "speak for yourself" under her breath.
"Well, that sounds like…fun," Peeta said with a smile. "And what about you, Katniss?"
She took a long sip of the contents of her mug before finally turning her attention towards him. "Everything else."
"Right." He took a bite of dry toast and swallowed thickly as he beat back the urge to roll his eyes. "I see," he added before tearing off another bite and chewing slowly.
Fuck. Why did she have to make this so damn uncomfortable?
He was trying his best to make this at least a somewhat pleasant experience for the both of them. If they were going to be spending the entire summer together, he'd rather they be on civil speaking terms and that she'd at least acknowledge him rather than…whatever it was she was doing. God. Was he really asking too much of her? Would it kill her to just give him a chance? Or was he just trying too hard? And why did she have to do that thing with her mouth? Curling her bottom lip over her teeth and biting down like she wanted to tear into it or…or…
Shit. He shook his head and shut his eyes as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Shit. Shit. Shit. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. But it did. And it had.
By some godforsaken twist of fate…he was into her.
When he looked up again, it was like he was seeing her through a different set of eyes. As he stared at her face from across the table, truly studying it for the first time since arriving, he felt like something had clicked into place. He didn't see the frown or the line between her furrowed brows. Instead he saw her high-set cheekbones, the few freckles that doted the bridge of her nose, a pair of small ears that held back the loose strands of hair from her face.
Her eyes weren't just grey. Why hadn't he noticed that before? Not a dull, washed out grey but rather full of life, flecked with silver that made her irises seem to dance in the sunlight. And again, that mouth of hers, wait, was she…was she smiling at him?
"Tell me," she started, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. He leaned in, too, finally swallowing his piece of toast as his mouth lifted to return her smile. She was finally going to talk to him. But then something shifted; her eyes narrowed and she squared her shoulders as if she was about to pounce. "Have you ever stepped foot outside of the city, let alone on a farm, before?"
Taken aback by her accusatory tone, he mumbled, "Um, I—"
"Do you know the first thing about growing crops? When to plant? When to spray? When to harvest?"
"Well, no, but I—"
"Or anything about animals? How to milk a cow? What to do when their udders are backed up? How to butcher a chicken?"
His mouth hung open, but the words got lost in his throat. Butcher a chicken? Like, by hand? Peeta stared back at her, feeling like an idiot. She was trying to prove a point and as much of a hit to his pride as it was, she was right. What the hell was he doing here? He finally shut his mouth and sunk back into his chair in defeat.
"Right, I didn't think so." She set down her mug and pushed herself away from the table, the creak of the chair against the floorboards like fingernails on a chalkboard. As she stood and gathered up her dishes, she added in a voice thick with sarcasm, "You better hurry up. Farm life waits for no one."
Peeta reached over and took a gulp tea, the hot liquid searing a trail down his throat as he watched her back disappear into the kitchen. But the pain was nothing compared to the burn she'd just left on his ego, and what little confidence he'd had coming here in the first place was now long gone. Maybe it was a good thing that he was no longer expected to spend the day with Katniss. He obviously wasn't going to get anywhere with her, despite his unfortunate newfound interest in her.
"Don't mind her," Prim said, yet again breaking the tension in the air. "She's just jealous."
"Jealous?" He let out an uneasy laugh in disbelief. "Jealous of what?"
"Why, you of course."
"You're kidding…me? Why me?"
"'Cause you're a guy."
Peeta frowned. "And what does that have to do with anything?"
Prim shook her head. "Everything apparently."
He spent the rest of breakfast in quiet contemplation of what Prim could possibly have meant, but it just didn't make any sense. Not wanting to keep Mr. Everdeen waiting any longer, he downed the rest of his food and brought his dishes into the kitchen where Mrs. Everdeen exchanged them for two brown paper bags.
"Lunch," she said as she nodded towards the bags. Peeta smiled and thanked her. Just as he was about to exit the kitchen he stopped. "Oh, where will I find Mr. Everdeen?"
"Just look for the tractor, he won't be too far from it."
"So, what's growing?"
Mrs. Everdeen was right. Once Peeta had spotted the tractor parked out on the other side of the field, he found Mr. Everdeen not far from it, digging a hand into the soil and letting it trickle out between his fingers.
"Corn."
Peeta took another scrutinizing look at the green stalks that stood barely a foot tall. "Oh." How obvious was that? He was no farmer but he sure as hell knew what a corn stalk looked like. Maybe if he'd been paying more attention instead of dissecting the events that had taken place over breakfast, he'd have seen the obvious.
In an attempt to make up for his ignorance, he cleared is throat and tried again. "What kind?"
"Field corn."
"Is that…for eating?"
"Nah, that'd be sweet corn. This here's only good enough for cow and chickens. You wouldn't wanna be buttering this stuff up on your plate." He stood and walked a few steps towards the edge of the field where he bent down to rub a leaf between his fingers. "This here crop was planted at the start of May. You see, you wanna get it in the ground as soon as the soil's warmed up; not too early but not too late, either."
"I see, sounds like timing is everything."
"Mother Nature tends to give you some leeway though. I just make sure to have my crop in the ground before Katniss's birthday each year. Everything always seems to work out just fine when I do."
"Oh? When's that?" He hoped the interest in his voice wasn't too obvious, but he was eager for any tidbits of information he could gather about Katniss. He had a nagging urge to figure out what made her tick.
Mr. Everdeen smiled. "The eight of May."
Taurus the Bull, Peeta thought. Well that explained a lot. "She seems like a really smart girl."
"That she is. Too smart for her own good most days. And if you haven't figured out yet for yourself, stubborn as a mule."
Peeta chuckled and lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair. Bull or mule, he had his work cut out for him with that one.
"That's why I push her, you know," Mr. Everdeen continued. "She ignored me for weeks after I threatened to take away her truck privileges if she didn't apply to them schools. She was born for greater things than this." The man looked out onto the horizon and inhaled a deep breath. Mile after mile of tiny green stalks with their long billowy leaves rustled in the breeze. "Anyway, how about we start you on your first lesson? You know how to drive a manual transmission?"
Thank god. Finally something he did know. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Driving a tractor is just like driving stick. Except this piece of machinery was built for power, not speed. Just make sure you remember that and you'll do just fine."
Peeta gave the tractor a once over and pursed his lips, taking a step closer to inspect some sort of sprayer attached to the back. It didn't look too intimidating; hell, it looked like driving it would be fun!
"Now's about the time we apply a round of nitrogen. Corn is a heavy feeder, so you gotta time it just right before it takes off in the summer heat."
Peeta made sure to pay attention to everything Mr. Everdeen was telling him. He may have come into this job knowing nothing, but he was a fast learner and he was determined to prove to Katniss that he wasn't a complete waste of space or just another ignorant city kid.
"Now," Mr. Everdeen said as he patted Peeta on the shoulder. "Hop on up there and let's get you started."
After only about an hour, Peeta's confidence had returned. He took to operating the tractor and using the sprayer like a natural, so much so that Mr. Everdeen had enough confidence in letting Peeta finish off the rest of the field on his own.
Wait till Katniss hears, he thought as he rounded the last leg of the field, smiling proudly to himself. Driving the tractor was surprisingly relaxing, whereas thoughts of Katniss had started to make his head pound. The soothing vibrations and constant hum of the engine had allowed his mind to go on autopilot, sparing him a few hours of relief.
The sun was directly overhead now, relentlessly beating down on his head and back, but he didn't dare take off his shirt. The thought of a blistering sunburn during his first week wasn't appealing. His sweat though, in combination with the dirt clouds he'd kicked up from the tractor runs, had left every inch of his exposed skin caked with a thin film of muck. What he wouldn't do for a shower about now.
A thought crossed his mind as he looked around to get his bearings, realizing that he was now on the west side of the property where a thick line of trees marked the location of the creek that served as the property line. He glanced down at his watch, which told him he still had a good hour before supper.
Plenty of time, he thought as he parked the tractor under the overhang of a large oak. Once in the shade, the temperature relief was immediate and the sound of flowing water was like music to his ears.
The creek was no more than six feet across and the clear water revealed a pebbled bottom that looked more inviting than any bath he'd ever seen. Without giving it another thought, he toed off his shoes and peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt that clung to his back like a second skin. He made quick work of stripping down to his boxers but decided to leave them on. Public nudity wasn't something he had an urge it indulge in.
The creek was cool and refreshing and just what he needed. A satisfied groan rumbled through his chest as he lowered his body into the chilly confines of the water; the uneven surface of the creek bed felt surprisingly good against the muscles of his backside. His eyes fell shut as he leaned back, completely submerging himself, except for his face, and stretching out his limbs. The flowing water was more than effective at washing away the dirt and sweat, not to mention the tension from his muscles.
As he lie there, limbs floating freely in the wake of the current, he couldn't help but relish in the way the flowing water felt against his cock. Despite the chilling effect of the water, the movement of the current was strangely erotic. And once coupled with the image of Katniss's face at breakfast that morning when she was toying seductively at her lip (unintentionally or not), well…it was a full blown recipe for disaster.
Peeta reached over and shifted the fabric of his boxers away from his already semi-hard state. God, what was wrong with him? He'd only known her for a day and here he was, already fantasizing about her while sitting half-naked out in the open.
He lifted his head up and shook the water from his hair, but an unexpected crack of a branch breaking caused his eyes to shoot open. He looked around but there was nothing there. Then it was there again, another crack of a branch, but this time he realized the sound was coming from up above.
He peered up and to his surprise, there was Katniss perched up on an overhanging branch with her bare tanned legs dangling in the air.
"Oh, shit," he hissed as he scrambled to his feet.
His heart beat wildly as he stood there, arms hanging boneless at his sides and chest heaving from the sudden start. He stared up at those persistently judgmental eyes, wondering what in the hell she was doing up there. But try as he might, he couldn't keep his eyes off the rest of her, shamelessly letting them roam over her body. Her shirt from that morning was slung over the branch next to her, leaving her in what he thought could have passed as a bikini top, but was most likely her bra. Instead of jeans, she was now in shorts that rode high up her well toned thighs, but from his vantage point on the ground, it was almost as if she wasn't wearing them at all.
Damn her, he though, tugging his lip between his teeth in an attempt to tear his eyes away from her. And damn her smoking hot body.
But more importantly, what was she doing there? Had she been checking up on him? Hidden away in the trees all morning just waiting to see how he fared on his first day? Yeah right, that was giving himself too much credit. She'd made it blatantly clear that she couldn't give two shits about him. But it both surprised and confused him when she made no effort to move or cover herself up, but maybe this was all part of her game. Her game of making him feel uncomfortable every chance she got and send him home packing, proving to her dad that his being there was a mistake.
Well, if she thought he'd break that easily, then she had another thing coming.
When she quirked an eyebrow at him—a challenge, if he wasn't mistaken—her gaze dropped to his groin, which finally caused him to come to his senses.
His hands shot out to cover his privates, but the realization hit him too late that he was on full display thanks to his soaking wet boxers. God damn cold water, he thought as her eyes finally shifted back up to his face and the corner of her mouth twitched.
Was she…smirking at him?
His face was burning, not from the heat of the day but rather from complete mortification. He looked down to his feet and dug his toes into the pebbles, hoping to root himself in place and keep from crumpling to his knees in embarrassment. How was he ever going to look her straight in the face again?
A quiet thump indicated that she'd left her perch from the tree branch and he ventured a quick glance to make sure. He zeroed in on the swig of her hips as she sauntered off, shirt slung over her shoulder, and cursed quietly to himself when he felt his cock twitch against his thigh. But just before she disappeared behind the cover of a tree trunk, she tilted her head over her shoulder and he swore he saw the upturned corner of her mouth.
Fuck. It was going to be a long summer.
Author's Note: So, this started off as a one-shot birthday present for my dear friend and beta Court81981, but of course it got out of hand and will be posted as a three part fic. Court is an amazing writer and such an inspiration and all round great cheerleader to us other authors, if you haven't already, I would suggest you read all her stories and of course, send her a PM on her special day!
Big thanks to sunfishdunes for stepping up the plate and betaing this for me last minute, she's another author I would highly recommend you check out! Hope you enjoyed Part 1 and I'd love to hear your thoughts. As always, inspiration (and title) can be credited to Rodney Atkin's "Farmer's Daughter", I have a country problem, what can I say :P
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