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The unrelenting sun still blazed, despite the late hour, scorching the earth and reducing it to a dry dustbowl while every living creature moved languidly beneath its mercilessly fiery gaze.
Rivulets of moisture ran between my breasts; my shirt clung to my back and stomach while my lips were as dry and arid as the air around me. Jeans and work boots, though appropriate for riding horseback to check on stock, ensured my legs and feet felt as if I was in a sauna. My hat slipped again, sweat-soaked hair making it near impossible to sit in one place, and I straightened it before wiping my face with my sleeve. Like me, it was soaked and grubby.
But the heat hadn't been the only torture to plague me since barely past sun up; my self-control had been sorely tested most of that time by riding behind Tom. His rear view was enough to make any red-blooded female's lady parts sit up and take notice - a tight bum encased in dark denim that hugged his globes as closely as a lover, the wide belt accentuating his narrow hips. A button-up shirt so worn its colour had become indeterminate drew taut across shoulder and back muscles, adhering closely to deltoid and biceps whenever he pulled up on the reins or swung off his horse to open gates. If my mouth weren't so dry I was sure I'd be drooling; certainly other parts of me pooled moisture that was definitely not sweat.
For the past hour I'd tried distracting myself with the thought of the cool, refreshing water that awaited me once my work was done, wondering if it would wash away my impure thoughts as easily as it would the dust and grime coating my pores.
We rode in silence the last few hundred metres, a sigh of relief escaping me when the stables were finally reached. I dismounted Starlight and began removing his saddle and bridle, looking forward to rewarding his efforts today with fresh hay and a good rub down. Getting to work with the curry comb, I gave him plenty of praise as I removed the dust and detritus from his dark coat, using a stiff bristle once the curry had loosened things up then moving to a soft body brush. Grooming complete, we nuzzled a little before I made sure he had plenty to drink and eat and left him for the night, heading to my own ablutions, knowing Tom had finished doing the same for Aristotle and would have beaten me to the cool interior of the house.
The aromatic scent that assaulted my nostrils as soon as I walked in made my mouth instantly water; my mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner and I sent her a greeting before making my way upstairs, removing my dirty, dusty clothing once inside the bathroom then stepping under the spray of cool, clean water. It felt like bliss to my overheated body; I ducked my head under the stream, revelling in the soft caress of tank rainwater and watching the ochre dust mix in the puddles at my feet.
Dressed again in cotton shorts and a singlet top, I took my discarded clothes to the laundry, seeing Tom's sitting in the machine already. I'd given up trying to work out how he showered and changed so quickly, accepting the ribbing from both him and my parents that I procrastinated in water of any kind, and had since I was a child.
"That smells amazing, mum," I said, walking into the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Everything's ready; I'm just about to serve up. How about getting the menfolk away from the TV and up to the table for me?"
