“‘Fraid you’re stuck with me for the summer,” Darcy replies with a tight smile, blinking like she’s trying to keep from snapping my neck. “Though Bill and Maggie are blowing back through here for the Fourth of July. You can kiss his ass then. Till then, you can kiss mine.”
Becca cackles. “Oh, I like you, boss. We need to get you out drinking.”
Darcy cocks her head and smiles at Becca, a genuine thing I haven’t seen since I first saw her at the sports bar. “Aw. That sounds nice! Let’s do that. For now,” she hooks a thumb over her shoulder, “let’s load up the four-wheelers and get out to the orchard.”
I’m silent as we load up the trailers behind the two four-wheelers. Darcy hands out fresh pairs of leather work gloves.
I pull my own pair out of my back pocket. “I actually came prepared. I have some. And a pocket knife.”
“He’s a cowboy and a boy scout. My lucky day.” Darcy tosses a set of keys at Caleb. “Becca, ride with me. Boys, can you keep up?”
Darcy and Becca climb onto their four-wheeler, and Becca whispers something in Darcy’s ear that makes her chortle. They pull away in a cloud of dust and laughter.
“You coming?” Caleb asks.
I climb on behind him, resting the heels of my hands behind me. “I feel like I just fucked up.”
Caleb chuckles. “Just go easy, man. You’re trying too hard.”
SEVEN
DARCY
The guyfrom the sports bar.
The fucking guy from the sports bar.
The fucking guy from the sports bar is my employee for the summer and living on the same property.
The fucking guy from the sports bar is my employee for the summer, living on the same property, and he smells just as good as I was afraid he might. Cedar and amber and man.
I know this because he leans close to me while loading some pruning shears back in the four-wheeler hitch. How can he possibly smell this good after an hour of heavy labor? Could he at least have the decency to have body odor like a normal person? Does he have to smell like testosterone and dreams?
This is bad. Really, very bad.
I’m determined to overcome this. Just because I’m ovulating and freshly single doesn’t mean I need to go mounting the first man who crosses my path.
I snap to attention at the sound of Jake’s voice. “Darcy.”
“What?” I say it with hostility, but other than him being a mediocre man with mediocre man ideals, he hasn’t done anything to harm me.
He chuckles. “Becca asked you a question.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, wiping my brow with my forearm. “What’s up?”
“Are these the original trees? Like the trees your grandpa planted?” she asks, tossing a bundle of chopped branches into the hitch.
“No,” Jake and I say at the same time, and I give him a look.
“Sorry,” he says. “I grew up on a fruit farm. You tell it.”
Strike one, buddy.
“No,” I reiterate. “My great grandpa started this farm to try and keep our family out of the coal mines. Peach trees only get a lifespan of ten to twenty years before they stop producing as much. These are descended from those, though. We’ve introduced some new varieties, but we always keep a separate row of Poppa’s trees.”
“That’s really cool,” Caleb says.
Caleb’s real cute too, with an easy smile but doesn’t feel false. But Caleb didn’t eyefuck me at a sports bar two nights ago while showing off his single dad prowess, and even though Maggie implied I should become involved with our summer workers, I’m not sure that’s the wisest idea.
