He pulls open my door, his eyes bright and filled with humor. “I want to offer you the opportunity to prove me wrong.”
I hate that I’m forced to hop out of the high vehicle.Why do I have to drive such a big car?
He grabs my hand to steady me again. I yank it away and march around to the back of the vehicle to open it up.
“Fine. If it’s that big of an issue for you, we can pull out the old tape measure. Are you sure you’re actually as tall asyousay?”
He grabs the biggest box, then takes the one I’m holding with the jellies and pickles and stacks it on top of his. I reach for his lawn chair, but he takes it from me as well and swings it over his shoulder. All that’s left is my tote bag with the tablecloths and smaller items. I grab it.
His big hand wraps around mine, gently peeling my fingers off.
His eyes meet mine, and he leans down toward my ear. “You’re right. I’m a smidge taller.”
The warmth of his deep voice ripples through me. I shiver as goose bumps rise on my arms.
He loops the bag over his other shoulder and lifts the boxes. With nothing to do with my hands, I grab my small handbag and shut the back hatch of the vehicle. I’m usually stuck taking three trips back and forth and breaking a sweat despite the early morning chill of fall.
I lead him over to the spot Rosie and I usually set up. The hosts provide the table, but we bring our own tent and decor. Rosie will be here any minute with more stuff to setup.
“You can put them here.” I point to the white plastic table.
Sam deposits the boxes and the bag on the ground.
“Thanks.”
I begin taking the time to set up everything, which goes much faster than I anticipated without needing to go back andforth to the car. Sam lifts the boxes back up as I spread out the tablecloth. He helps me adjust and secure the banner that saysSun Butter Bakeryto the front of the table. After realizing I’m going to be meticulously laying out items on the table in my own special order, he opens his lawn chair and takes a seat behind me.
I try to block out my hyperawareness of his presence so I can focus. I’ve brought some new items today, and I spent hours making cute little signs that sayNew!andTry me!One is a strawberry jam with a blackberry swirl. The other is an apricot jam with mango swirl—my personal favorite. My signature honey butter is usually the first to sell out, so I brought ten extra jars this time.
After everything is laid out exactly how I like it, I stack the boxes under the table and look around. The honeycomb lady who has multiple thriving beehives is set up beside me. She sells raw honey, lip balms made from the wax, and honey soaps. I source all my honey from her, and she gives me a great discount. I wave at her.
“Hello, Gene. How was your week?”
She lifts her head up and offers me a warm smile. Her white hair is tied back in a silver clip, and the faded gingham dress she’s wearing has little bees stitched around the hem. I want to be her when I grow up.
“I had a fine week, although Herbert’s gout has been acting up something fierce. He’ll only let me treat it with my honey salve. I think we’re past the point of home remedies.”
I frown. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is he at home today?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. He wouldn’t let me do this gig all alone. He’s at the gas station getting us some coffee. Our pot broke this morning. His motor skills aren’t what they used to be.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest. The memory of my grandparents passing away when I was only a preteen moves to the forefront of my mind. They were always together, stuck like glue. My dad’s parents were in a home not too far from us, and they died only weeks apart. They were fragile, like Gene and Herbert, but kept trucking along and doing things they should have been asking for help with for years.
Herbert walks up behind his wife with two steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee.
Her eyes move over to Sam. “Well, hello there, Sammy. I haven’t seen you at the market before. I must say, you two are quite a handsome couple.” Her eyes twinkle.
My heart stops beating for a second too long, tripping over itself and sputtering inside my chest. I gasp from the sudden change, grasping my chest. I feel Sam jump up behind me. He grabs my elbow.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is panicked.
I try to focus on the buttons of his shirt, but my vision is blurry. My heart is still flip-flopping inside my chest, trying to get back to the right rhythm, but not quite finding it yet. My senses are all dulled, my muscles feeling squishy. Sam’s grasp on my elbow grows tighter as he pulls me toward his chest and crushes me into a hug.
“Shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay. Slow down, exhale. Breathe for me, Baby Red.” His voice is a murmur into my hair.
My chest cavity seems to be learning how to beat right from the steady, strong thrum in his chest. I inhale his pine needle scent, sighing into him after what feels like way too long and not nearly enough time. I slowly pull back from the warmth of his embrace, blinking up at him.
The sun has risen higher in the sky, shining into his eyes and making them look crystal blue.
