Ezra Chavez.
New Message from Ezra: Hi Mira! I’d love to help with your orchard. I was on here looking for a date but a chance to make some extra cash is even better. I grew up in Appleridge, have lived on an orchard my entire life, and know apple trees inside and out. We can discuss rate of pay and the type of work you’re looking for, just shoot me a message back.
I read his message a couple of times. He sounded like a nice guy. I clicked on his profile and my jaw fell into my lap.
Holy shit, he was smoking hot. Like a model in a dirty calendar hot.
Clicking through his pictures had me squeezing my legs together.
His profile read:Hey I’m Ezra! I’m a chill guy looking for his lady. I’m a twenty-four-year-old guy who grew up in Appleridge and worked on orchards my whole life. My thumb is greener than green, and I love to grow all my own herbs andveggies. I enjoy a morning run, a couple of showers a day, and I’m never afraid of getting my hands dirty. Hope to connect.
Twenty-four?
He was only twenty-four?
My God, he was just a baby.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I replied to his message.
CHAPTER TWO
Ezra
New Message from Mira:“Hey Ezra! Thanks for answering my ad. I’d love to talk more about your experience with apple orchards. Can we arrange a phone call to discuss more in depth?”
New Message from Ezra: “That sounds great. I’m free tonight at seven. Does that work?”
New message from Mira: “Perfect. My phone number is 502-555-3201. Ring me at seven.”
New message from Ezra: “Talk then.”
I read over our conversation for the umpteenth time. The whole situation was weird. A woman putting out an ad for help on a dating site? Who did that?
Apparently, a woman who just inherited one.
Her profile revealed little about Mira Wilcox except that she inherited her distant father’s orchard and was clueless about both it and small-town life. Not to mention the crumbling farmhouse to go with it. I knew this town like the back of my hand and had driven by that orchard thousands of times.
It used to flourish. Over the past five years, it slowly fell apart along with the large house on the property. It was beautiful at one time with its wrap-around porch and stained-glass windows on the doors. I often wondered what happened. The town gossip said the old man living there didn’t care about it, but I suspected there was more to the story.
Now it made more sense. He was dying.
His daughter must’ve inherited it. And now she wanted to revive it. Which made me want to get to knowher.I mean, it was a big venture to take on, so it impressed me she even tried to.
After dinner and a shower, I lounged on the coach with some mindless TV until the clock turned seven. On the dot, I dialed her number and waited. She answered a few rings later, her voice soft and sweet. “Hi, this is Mira.”
“Hi. It’s Ezra.”
“Hey, I’m so glad you called. Right on time, too. Starting off with a good impression, I like it.”
A laugh bubbled in my throat. I liked her already. “Always.”
“Good. It’s important. You saw my photos, yes? Do you recognize the orchard? I’m on Cedarbrook Drive.”
“I do. Pass it often in my travels. Growing up, it was an orchard my family visited often in the fall for apples and pumpkins. Your pops had some of the bestPink Ladyapples.”
The line went silent.
Shit. I said too much.
