The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

on here?
    And what did I think? Setting aside his good looks, if this man was my political opposite, that meant that he believed in racism and homophobia. That meant that he was pro-life and anti-gun control. That he hated environmental regulation. That he didn’t support equal pay for workers and raising the minimum wage. Right?
    All of the things that I cared about.
    And that made me feel stupid, because he wasn’t a potential country fling. He was someone I couldn’t or shouldn’t consider. Because if I got together with him, then I was hypocritical. It was okay to believe what I believed out in the open, paint it on the back of my car and shout it to the world. But if I actually did it, I’d be letting down the side and I couldn’t do that.
    That said, the idea of crossing that boundary felt so hot, like when a CEO is submissive in the bedroom. Shedding my image privately might be freeing. I was entitled to my sexual fantasies. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should do something, but what, I had no idea.
    I broke my gaze away from him and shuffled back to the truck.
    We drove past new avocado orchards, then kept going and went to a higher area, with long rows of large metal hoops, most of them covered in plastic. "What's growing here?" I asked.
    "Blueberries."
    He stopped the truck, again getting out, and this time I totally checked out his ass. Not that I hadn’t done it before. I just let myself do it again. Again, he kept the truck running, but this time, he scanned the area and pulled out his cell phone. I wandered down the rows and fingered the leafy plants, Trixie at my heels. I could hear him talking.
    "Guillermo?" He waited for a response.
    "Hace falta cubrir las moras . " The berries needed to be covered. Still, interesting that he spoke Spanish.
    "Bien. Bueno. Adios . " He hung up. I walked back to him and looked up into his dark eyes.
    "Where did you learn to speak Spanish?"
    "Here." I rolled my eyes, feigning patience, willing him to go on, and surprisingly, he did. "Grew up with these guys and you gotta talk with them." That was weird and not what I was expecting. If he was conservative, wasn’t he against anyone who didn't speak English? I must have had a weird look on my face, because he asked, defensively, "What?"
    “You’re a Republican.”
    “You know it.”
    “And you speak Spanish.”
    “Yeah.”
    I kicked a rock to the side. "Then how can you support those candidates who want to round up everyone who is not like them and deport them?"
    He rolled his eyes and asked, "Do you really want to get into that darlin'?"
    All I could think at first was how sexy his voice sounded when he called me darlin’. God, I was so fucking shallow sometimes. He brought out the worst in me.
    But no, I wasn’t going to be distracted by the slab of caramel man candy in front of me. I remembered my ethics.
    I let out an annoyed breath. One minute he’s fun and flirty and the next he was . . .
    Not like me.
    Not my type.
    And he was an ass.
    “You bring up politics all the time,” I said, “and you haven’t even asked me what mine are.”
    He smirked. "Because I know you’re a fucking liberal."
    Oh that's enough. We were getting nowhere. And I didn’t need to be insulted like that. I mean, not that being liberal was bad, I was proud of it. But he didn’t need to swear at me. I turned to back to the truck, done with the conversation. "You're a judgmental asshole. You don't even know me."
    He just shook his head and started, "You come here from the city and you have no idea what goes on in a farm—" but I interrupted him, turning around and raising my finger.
    "Oh no? I grew up as a kid of migrant farmworkers," I countered. "I never had a home, going up and down California and Mexico looking for work. My parents worked hard and saved their money and then went to school and got jobs so that my brother and sister and I would have a good life. So don't give me that 'you have no idea' shit. I'm no