“That’s it?” I asked. “They’re tiny.”
“They’re tinynow,”Louise told me. “Wait till they’re near the ceiling. This place’ll be a jungle.”
I had my hammer ready in case the deal turned bad, but as soon as the two of them got talking, I knew we had nothing to worry about. This guy was like her: a plant nerd. This was the science end of the business, where everything was happy and fun. It was down at the other end, the selling, where things got ugly. Some time soon, I was going to have to introduce Louise to that part of it, too, and the thought of that made my stomach twist into knots.
I helped Louise carry the trays of tiny plants, each one only the size of my finger, through to the house. Louise carefully lifted the firstplant from the tray, set it down on a table and hunkered down to look at it. “So fragile,” she said. She was so close to it that the words made the leaves tremble.
I squatted down on the other side of the table, because I figured I should get a look at the core of our new business. Our faces were maybe a foot apart, the tiny seedling rustling in the breeze whenever one of us talked. We had to practically whisper, or we’d knock the damn thing over. “That’s going to be worth thousands of dollars?” I asked.
“That guy’s stuff is thebest.Trust me, he’s an undiscovered talent. I did my homework and this strain hassomuch potential to just pump out THC.” Her gaze flicked to me. “THC’s the stuff that—”
“—gets you high. I’m not acompletefuckwit.”
She blinked. “I didn’t think you were. Sorry, I just—”
I had to interrupt her again, because if she kept being nice to me I was going to lean across and do something I regretted. “If it’s such hot shit, how come we can afford it?”
She grinned: a slow, satisfied smile that Ireally really hopedwas the same one she got after she’d just come her brains out. “Because it’s so tough to grow. You need to treat it really carefully and get everything just right...but,if we do, I think it can be great. Like, off-the-charts great.”
“And you can get it just right.” A statement, not a question.
She nodded. Then blushed. “I mean, you know, the stuff I did in college gives me a big advantage. Most of the growers don’t have that background—they’re just fumbling around in the dark. It’s notme.I’m nothing special.”
I just stared at her. She honestly believed that. She flushed again under my gaze, but I couldn’t look away.
“I should start planting,” she said at last. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
I moved back a little from the table and watched as she took the first pot, filled it with a carefully-measured mix of soils and fertilizers, and transferred the seedling into it. There was something incredibly restful about watching her work: the seriousness of her expression as she measured, the total joy in her face as she sunk her pale fingersinto the dark earth. I could tell she was completely absorbed—I’d ceased to exist. And that meant I could watch her as much as I wanted. I could take in the hanging curls of her copper-colored hair as they bounced against her cheeks and the smudge of dirt she left on her nose as she brushed them out of the way. I could watch her creamy breasts bounce and sway in her scoop-neck top as she leaned over the plant and imagine running my hands over her ripe, curving ass through the tight denim of her jeans.
I would have happily watched her all night but, after the fifth plant, she suddenly remembered I was there and said, “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be here for hours.”
I nodded and headed for the door. I knew the smart thing to do was to leave—I was too into her, too close to losing control and doing something stupid. I put my hand on the door handle. And then, out of nowhere, I heard myself say: “Or...you could show me what to do and I could help.”
17
LOUISE
He lookedas surprised as I felt, as if he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until the words were out. We stared at each other for several seconds.
“Okay,” I said at last. I’d brought a couple of stools from my place just so we had something to sit on. I pulled up one for myself and sat down, then pulled up one for him right next to me.
Sean walked around the tables and sat down. We were so close, we were almost touching.
I slid a seedling and a pot along the table to him, the scrape of plastic on wood very loud in the silent room. “Start by measuring out the mix,” I told him. “One cup of this, half a cup of this, one cup of this.” I demonstrated.Why are my hands shaking?
“Make a hole with your fingers,” I said, pressing two fingers into the cool, soft earth. Next to me, I watched him form two fingers into a probe. “You probably just need one finger,” I mumbled. “Your hands are big.”
He eased his thick finger into the soil. I swallowed.
“Is that deep enough?”
“Yes. Plenty deep enough.”
He stopped.
“Now ease out your seedling and carefully clear most of the dirt away from the roots.”
He lifted out his seedling and started to knock at its roots with a finger.
