When it rained, it poured.

Soaked to the bone, Jake and I climbed the porch steps to the farmhouse and knocked on the bright blue door. Unfortunately, the owners were out of town and the house sitter didn't feel comfortable offering us shelter in the house. But Jake convinced her to let us stable the horses and spend the night in the barn. He'd also charmed the older woman into giving us some cokes, bread, and a jar of peanut butter.

Stepping back into the pouring rain was miserable. The sky was tar black and the rain was coming down in sheets, so thick and heavy that I could barely keep my eyes open. Jake walked ahead, leading both horses by their reins. I hugged my arms around myself and trudged along several feet behind them, a sense of dread building with each step.

Out of nowhere, Grandma Danner's image appeared in my head, her homely, pinched face so real that she may as well have been standing in front of me with her withered hand upon her ever-present bible.

"What the wicked fears will come upon him..."

My face crumbled when I saw the barn, a low, strangled moan catching in my throat.

It was a picturesque barn, complete with a gabled roof and silo, painted in the storybook fashion – red with white accents. But every atom of my being recoiled. I couldn't go in there. It looked just like the barn where daddy –

Jake shouted my name across the yard.

"Go on, Layla-girl, what don't kill you will only make you stronger."

But I didn't want to be strong, I wanted to be safe.

Jake called out for me again.

I took a deep breath. Tomorrow would be here early enough. There was no point in getting a head start on my day of self-torture. I guess I had a little more Brandy in me than I liked to think because I put everything that didn't benefit my current situation in a box in my head, taped that sucker shut, and refused to acknowledge it.

Even daddy.

***

The barn doors were unwieldy but Jake managed to slide them open with his one free hand. The tired hinges gave way to the familiar odor of musty straw and animal musk. Jake switched on the lights.

A dozen or so goats roamed freely in the barn, along with a pair of ewes, a handful of hens and a donkey. There were six stalls, three on each side of the center isle. The stalls on the left were occupied.

Cursing softly under his breath, Jake handed me the reins. "Wait here."

He checked each of the stalls before returning back to me. "Two geldings and a mare."

Not wanting to be the one holding the reins when the stallions got a whiff of the mare, I quickly shoved them back to Jake. "Is she in heat?"

"Hell if I know," he said. "Guess we're about to find out."

We both turned to face the stallions. So far, they seemed okay, but we both knew this could get very ugly, very fast.

"Get her in the furthest stall," said Jake, pointing to the stalls on the right. "Geldings in that one and that one. Stallions will be closest to the door."

Unfortunately, the furthest stall was being used for storage so I had to drag out all the boxes before I executed his orders, shuffling the unwitting horses around in this game of impromptu musical stalls.

"The donkey." Jake looked apologetic as he pointed at it, while using his leg to scoot back a goat hell-bent on escape.

I groaned in protest but grabbed a pitchfork. I hated donkeys. They were miserable, nasty little brutes, too clever for their own good and too quick to bite. Using the blunt end, I chased him all around the barn until I managed to shoo him into a stall and latch the door.

Once the stallions were stabled, Jake tended to the horses. I meant to help, but I had no energy left. So I leaned against the wall across from the wash stall and slid down until my butt made contact with the hard concrete. The adrenaline had long since worn off and my entire body ached and throbbed from the unaccustomed riding and aftermath.

Jake loved horses, I thought absently as I watched him work. Really, truly loved them – I could see it in the way he touched them and cared for them, putting their needs before his own. He had to be hungry – we hadn't eaten all day. And he had to be as exhausted as I was. But he worked meticulously, making sure every inch of the horses' coats were dried and brushed. I wondered what it would be like to have that kind of passion, and envied him for knowing just what it was that made him happy, for knowing exactly how he was going to spend the rest of his life.

Five minutes of rest, I told myself, then, I'll help him.

A warm hand tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey come on, eat before you sleep."

I blinked awake to see Jake squatting in front of me. "I didn't even realize I fell asleep," I mumbled, wincing when all kinds of muscles protested as I moved to stand.

"You hurting?"

I nodded.

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

He chuckled. "Be more specific."

"Lower back, the most."

He stood up and offered his hand. "Stand up."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"Come on, get up."

Wary, I took his hand, my bare feet scraping against the concrete floor. He crossed his arms over his chest with each hand on the opposite shoulder.

I mimicked the position.

Jake stepped behind me.

I snapped my head around. "Where are you going?"

"Easy," he said, holding his hands up where I could see them. "Jesus, what kind of guys have you been hanging around? I promise not to cop a cheap feel." He shook his head. "You're so tied up in knots it's brutal to look at."

He stepped behind me and circled my shoulder with one arm, his calloused hand rough against my upper arm. His touch was impersonal, nearly clinical. Still, butterflies erupted in my stomach. His other hand went flat on my lower back. Then, he pulled, slowly stretching my spine.

I sighed with pleasure, the tension melting out of my body.

"Good?" he asked, pressing a little harder.

"Yes," I sighed. "Do the other side too."

"Getting a little bossy there," he said, but his hands switched positions anyway.

When he was done, he touched my hair, making my knees go weak. His fingers were a little clumsy as he gathered up my hair and moved it off the nape of my neck.

What is he doing? What is he doing?

He placed his palm on the back of my neck, making me jump.

"Layla, seriously, what do you think I'm gonna do to you?" He slapped his other hand on my forehead by my hairline, a little rougher than was necessary. Then, he rolled my neck around in a circle, and stretched it from side to side.

"So high strung..." he said, clucking his tongue. "Okay, last one. I'm going to put my arms around you so try to keep your shit together."

I wish I had a clever comeback, but my brain had checked out when he first put his hands on me. Paranoid and uncertain, I tried to catch a glimpse of him without turning my head. I strained my eyes to the left, and when that didn't work out, I looked to the right until my eyeballs actually hurt from the effort. No luck.

His arms went around me, his chest solid and warm against my back. Oh. I knew this stretch. Daddy had done the same to me more times than I could count. Hell, I'd done it to Shana during the early stages of pregnancy she was still somewhat maneuverable.

When he spoke, his breath tickled the top of my head. "You have to relax for this."

Relax? I couldn't even breathe.

"Layla," he said softly. "Breathe. Relax."

I gave it my best shot.

He squeezed his arms tight against me and lifted me off the ground, stretching my spine against his chest. I heard my spine pop, but I was too hyper-aware of his body against mine to feel any kind of release.

He set me down. "I'd offer to rub your back, but I don't want you to have a stroke -"

He reappeared in front of me and looked down at my face. "What the fuck."

"What?"

His expression was incredulous. "For such a pretty girl, you sure do blush ugly."

I scowled. "Mind your manners, Jake." I knew I didn't blush pretty. I blushed in blotches and streaks all over my face and chest, the end result resembling a bad case of hives more than anything.

He leaned forward and studied my face carefully. His expression changed as understanding dawned on him. "You're a virgin," he said.

It wasn't a question.

He chuckled softly. "Christ, Layla." Shaking his head to himself, he walked away.

****

Jake returned a few minutes later with a horse blanket. "You're gonna want to get out of those clothes."

"I'm good."

"Don't be a jackass. You're better off in this anyway – I can see everything through your shirt."

Shooting him a nasty look, I snatched the blanket from his hand and turned around. "Jerk," I muttered, shaking the blanket open. I reeled from the stench of it – aged musk and wet rag combined with a hint of stale sweat.

I headed toward the tack room, intending to grab a different one.

Jake was in there with his back to me, the neck of his shirt fisted in his hand. I stopped like a deer caught in the headlights. He pulled, dragging the shirt off his body in one fluid motion.

Oh my God, what do I do? Run? Hide? Play it cool?

I ducked behind a wall.

"Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth-"

I shoved Grandma Danner into the box with daddy and got her the hell out of my head. Then, I peered out beyond the wall.

Jake undid his belt and the wet denim and underwear came off together and just like that, he was naked.

I was wrong about the tattoos, right about the six pack. Dry-mouthed, I stared at his body, all clean lines of sinew and muscle and miles and miles of unmarred, golden, supple skin. I smiled. He was really really beautiful.

Turn around Jake, do it.

He bent to pick up his wet clothes and wrung them out.

Turn around Jake.

He did.

My face went up in flames. I'd never seen a naked boy before, but I had a feeling he was ruining it for the rest. In a way, his physical beauty made me wistful in its perfection and I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop staring. And weird as it sounds, I stayed a while, appreciating him in an artistic, non-sexual way.

Jake hung his clothes to dry and wrapped a blanket around his waist. I winced.

Show's over. Too bad.

After counting to thirty, I sauntered casually into the room. "This blanket stinks."

He looked up at me and motioned with his head at the rack to his left where a stack of blankets were neatly folded and stored away.

Keeping my eyes trained on the goal, I made my way over, picked a blanket and made a huge show of checking it over.

Humming to myself, I left the room.

****

The sound of the rain falling on the roof was deafening.

After sharing our meager rations, Jake and I lay on our backs on blankets on the floor, with ten feet of space between us. He'd found a single flashlight and laid it on the floor, its weak beam casting dancing shadows on the wall and ceiling. The goats roamed freely around us, bleating every once in a while as if their smell wasn't reminder enough of their presence.

"I don't understand why you put up with all that bullshit from the other girls when it's not even the truth."

"Go to sleep Jake." The last thing I wanted to discuss with him were my bullies. Second to last was my virginity.

"It makes no sense."

I sighed. "I can't convince everybody," I said, hoping it would shut him up. Then, because I couldn't help myself: "You believed them, didn't you? You thought I slept around just like my mama." I meant to keep my tone light, but it came out defeated.

He hesitated for a long time. "Yeah, I believed them."

"Oh."

"I mean, I know what your life must be like. It would be the easy way out, and who could blame you for doing it? Believe me, if I had a-"

"Don't you say that word in front of me-"

He rolled his eyes. "If I had a you-know-what, I'd leverage the shit out it."

I swallowed. "Because a girl like me could never be with a boy like Peyton otherwise right?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, I didn't give it that much thought. Besides, I thought you weren't with Bishop."

"I'm not," I snapped.

He was quiet for a while. "So if the two of you aren't having sex, what the fuck do you do together all the time?"

I scowled at him. "You wouldn't understand."

He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure I want to understand."

"Just go to sleep Jake." Aggravated, I reached for the jar of peanut butter and unscrewed the lid. There wasn't much left and I was planning to save it for the morning, but stress made me want to eat. I used my fingers to scrape some off the side.

"You should've seen yourself earlier handling that stallion, turned me on like nobody's business."

"Don't hit on me right now, it's really awkward,"

"Why?"

"Because I'm naked. You're naked."

"The goats and the horses are naked too, so what?"

I laughed despite myself.

He rolled to his side. I ogled his stomach and chest from beneath lowered lashes.

"Look," he said, pointing behind me. "That one's pretty much teabagging you and I don't hear you complaining about him."

"Quit being disgusting." Thoroughly grossed out, I used my elbow to push the goat away.

I looked at my fingers. He'd told me earlier that he hated peanut butter, that it was a textural issue for him. But I had a feeling he knew how hungry I was and was just being nice.

I offered the jar to him and cocked an eyebrow.

"Only if you let me lick it off your fingers."

Blood rushed to my face as my traitorous heart beat itself into a frenzy. Annoyed, I kept my head down to hide my reaction and said, "You're a fool, Jake Waites." Not because I particularly meant it, but because I didn't know what else to say.

Trying to shake the vivid image he painted from my head, I snorted and ate the peanut butter off my fingers. I didn't think anything of it, but realized that the gesture was sexual when I caught him staring at me, eyes flashing fever.

I smiled.

Biting my lip and taking my time, I stuck my fingers back in the jar and scooped the last of it out.

I looked down at my fingers.

Then back at him.

I stuck both fingers in my mouth and sucked them off, slowly and deliberately, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

Just because I could.

He half-moaned, half-groaned. "Awww, come on Layla, play fair."

I smirked. Pleased as punch, I set aside the now empty jar, turned my back on him and pulled the blanket even higher up on my shoulders. I felt daring, I felt wicked, It felt good.

"Good night, Jake."

***

My phone buzzed just as I was drifting off to sleep.

Peyton.

I glanced at Jake, hoping he'd be asleep. No luck. He was wide awake, staring at the rafters, fingers tapping a rapid staccato against his chest. He rolled his eyes sideways and looked at me.

"Don't say a word," I said.

He didn't reply, just returned his gaze back to the ceiling and continued his tapping.

I hit the button and Peyton's face came on the screen.

"What the hell Layla, where are you?" he said, his eyes moving across the screen, taking in the hay beneath my hair.

"Long story." I gave him an abbreviated version of today's events.

And I replaced Jake's name with Daniel's every time it came up.

It was tremendously stressful, both lying to Peyton and lying to Peyton in front of Jake.

I tried to end the call, but Peyton wanted all the details and the plans for tomorrow. By the time I finally got him off the phone, I was feeling miserable again. And ashamed. I set the phone down by my side and buried my face in my hands.

"For a guy who isn't your boyfriend, he sure asks a lot of questions," said Jake.

"Don't start with me-"

I think he said something more, but I couldn't hear his words over Grandma Danner's voice in my head.

"The righteous hate what is false, but the wicked make themselves a stench and bring shame on themselves."

A/N: Chapter's a little Schizoid - I'm trying to decide where I'm going next. Once I do, I'll edit out the unnecessary.

Tell me, dear readers, what do you want?

1. More Peyton

2. More Jake

3. More about Clint Danner's fate

4. Other

Please comment to let me know and vote! ^_^