“Hey, Erica,” I called across the field to where she was setting up a folding table and laying out a tablecloth. “Where do you want this cooler full of sports drinks?”
Erica dropped the tablecloth she was holding and jogged over to me. “Don’t you dare try to drag that thing with your hand still healing!” she admonished.
“Are you kidding?” I dug my fists into my hips and glared at her. “My hand is fine. My stitches have been out for a week. Look.” I pushed my palm into her face. “There’s barely a scar.”
“Dan,” Erica called over my shoulder to the man carrying a basket of sandwiches and wearing a baseball shirt with a giant tiger emblazoned on the front. Erica was also wearing a tiger baseball jersey. “Will you talk some sense into her?”
“Ha.” Dan handed her the tray of sandwiches before hoisting the cooler I was attempting to drag across the field into his arms. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to do that for weeks now. If you make any headway, let me know.” They turned their backs on me and walked toward the table Erica was setting up.
“I’m standing right here,” I called as I marched after them. “I can hear you.”
“Yes, you can, love.” Dan set the cooler down next to the table. “Our problem is that you don’t listen.” He shot me a wink and I narrowed my eyes at him, shaking my head before I walked off to join Erica in setting up the folding tables.
“Am I allowed to organize the silverware?” I asked sarcastically as I unpacked a paper shopping bag filled with napkins, flatware, and paper plates.
“Only if you promise not to stab yourself with a plastic fork,” she quipped, shooting me a smirk.
“I’ll do my best.” I chuckled.
“So you really seem to be finding your way here.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not sure what you mean…”
“I mean, you been here for a minute. You seem a lot more comfortable. You’re definitely not as uptight as you were when you first got to town.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, acting scandalized, and threw a plastic spoon at her, which she swatted away. “It’s a lot easier to relax when the woman responsible for making your food isn’t constantly giving you the stink eye.” I shot her a sarcastic glare. In the last two weeks since Erica confided in me about Melissa’s condition, we’ve grown a lot closer. A fact that was helped by me eating at the diner almost every day.
“Speaking of which,” she said, picking up one of the sandwiches Dan and I had made—well, Dan made the sandwiches, and I put them in the sandwich baggies; a very important job—and taking a bite. “Mm, this is good. Speaking of which,” she continued with a mouthful of food, “I have to get you into the kitchen one of these days. You really need to learn how to cook.”
“No, I absolutely do not.” I laughed. “Between you and Dan, I will never go hungry.”
“Hmm, I bet.” She shot me a mischievous grin.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I had a feeling I already knew.
“Did you ever think that maybe you should stay in town permanently?”
“Are you asking because my choosing to live here would solve a lot of your problems?” I batted my eyelashes with my best approximation of an innocent smile. Erica frequently tried to gauge where I leaned regarding my grandparents’ farm by trying to convince me to stay.
“Well, I can’t say I’m not biased, but country living seems to begood for you.” She grinned. “And this town has plenty of other benefits that you might not be considering.” She tilted her chin across the field with a sly expression. When I turned in the direction she was pointing, I saw Dan standing about twenty feet away with another man, also wearing a tiger jersey and high-fiving a small crowd of girls in matching softball uniforms that included Melissa.
“Dan?” I scoffed and decided to use that precise moment to focus intently on organizing the napkins so I wouldn’t have to see Erica’s smug expression. “There’s nothing there. It’s complicated. And we’re just… I’m not sure. This whole thing is a mess that I’m trying to unravel.” I wasn’t making any sense, so I had to say something smart to rescue this situation. “Also, I just got out of a very long relationship. I’m not even thinking about another one.” There. That was something a sensible person would say. Too bad I was also remembering the way my legs wrapped around Dan’s waist as he pressed himself between my legs that night in the greenhouse.
A little over two weeks had passed since that night in the greenhouse. Dan and I had slipped into a comfortable rhythm around the farm. He was right about feeling like a weight had been lifted once I’d discovered the farm’s—and by extension, the entire town’s—secret. However, in those two weeks, Dan and I hadn’t come close to reliving our make-out session in the greenhouse. There were often moments when I wondered if Dan thought about that kiss as much as I did. Sometimes there would be glances that lingered a little too long, or a casual brush of skin while working in the little garden we’d planted in the front yard. Maybe that night in the greenhouse was an isolated event fueled by the adrenaline of the day’sexcitement. Either way, no matter how adorable or sexy or incredibly thoughtful Dan was, I was in no emotional shape to be in a relationship with anybody.
At least that’s what I told myself during the times my thoughts drifted to Dan in the middle of a hot shower or while lying in my bed in the middle of the night. I couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing one floor above in his attic hideaway, while my hand explored the parts of my body that were craving his attention.
I realized that I’d been daydreaming when I heard Erica snapping her fingers to get my attention. My face snapped to hers and she was wearing a knowing smirk.
“What were you daydreaming about?” she asked while shoving a stack of paper plates into my hands.
“Nothing,” I stammered.
“Sure, Jan.” She chuckled and turned her attention back to organizing the table. “Start getting those plates ready; we’re going to have a mob of hungry little softball players in about ten seconds.” She pointed to the horde of ten- and eleven-year-old girls approaching, led by Dan and Erica’s husband.
“Did I miss the memo about the matching jerseys?” I asked Dan as he got closer.
“You didn’t get the memo?” He furrowed his eyebrows in mock confusion as he talked around a mouthful of sandwich. “I’m pretty sure I sent it.” He laughed as he backed away from me wearing a mischievous grin.
