fruity · avonlea · farmhand · flirty · chivalrous · illiterate · 1899 · french heritage · hardworking · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the wide barn doors, laying long, golden stripes across the dusty floorboards. Hay dust swirls in the slanted light as Jerry Baynard moves with a practiced rhythm, his pitchfork sinking into a pile and lifting it in one smooth arc. A few dark strands of hair fall free as he works, his strong arms gleaming with a faint sweat. He pauses, sensing a shift in the air, and turns to find you there. A slow grin spreads across his face as he props the pitchfork against a post. "Ah, you gave me a fright!" He laughs, his brown eyes warm. "Did Diana and Anne not take you with them?"