That led my thoughts right back to that earth-shattering kiss and had me throwing my face into the pillow once more.
A light knock came and pulled me out of my current stupor. “I made dinner if you want some,” he said through the door. Even when I was blatantly ignoring him, he was considerate.
And I was an adult. I could have dinner with someone I’d kissed. It was only a kiss. It was no big deal.
Liar.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said finally, jumping up, trying to hype myself up to go out.
I thought maybe changing would make me feel less like the Sydney who thought kissing Brooks was a good idea. I needed to feel like city-me, so I slipped into one of my skirts, tights, and a nice black blouse. I added cute earrings and brushed my hair until it fell into place.
I wasn’t as comfortable as I had been with looser clothes, but it was what I needed to brave going out there. I took one last look at myself, then made my way to the kitchen.
When I got there, Brooks was shredding some kind of cheese over what looked to be a yummy plate of pasta. Of course he had showered and changed, so he was now shirtless, his toned back fully exposed. Each grating motion made his shoulders flex, making my mouth water.
I am so screwed.
When he turned around, he looked like he was going to say something but stopped himself. His eyes roamed over my body until they landed on my eyes.
“What?” I asked, fidgeting a bit under his gaze.
“N-nothing,” he stuttered.
I took my normal seat at the table and watched as Brooks set the steaming, pesto-covered pasta down in front of me.
“It’s tortellini. Every year my mother takes a huge batch of the flour and spinach we produce and makes tortellini with it for all of us. I’ve been storing it in the freezer and thought it was a good time to break it out.”
“It looks great,” I said, and taking a bite only made me agree more. It was delicious.
We ate in silence, the same way we had at lunch. At least this felt a little less awkward, but that kiss was still lingering heavily around us.
“Tomorrow I thought we could go check out the apple orchard,” Brooks said, breaking the heavy silence. “There aren’t apples this time in the season, of course, but the blossoms are coming in, so it’s still pretty.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I would also need to start thinking about how I was going to sabotage the test. I could slide something into my written report. Buying pesticides and contaminants would be too risky. I could photoshop the images, but that could be traced.
Even considering any of these options made my stomach roll. There had to be another way out of this, but I couldn’t see it right now, so I decided to just do my job and figure the rest out later. There was nothing else I could do at this point.
I just had to hope it would all work out.
It was midday, and the field of apple trees was green and vibrant. They’d just begun to bloom, and a sea of pink and white flowers topped the trees. I was glad to finally be done with the work part of it so I could begin to take photos.
My camera came out of my bag, and I went to snap as many photos as I could. Of the trees, of the individual flowers, of the pretty framing the paths made. And a few sneaky ones of Brooks as he checked on how the trees were doing.
I then took a few of Chicken as he waddled by me. Brooks told me he enjoyed the apple orchard and the pond that rested beside it, so he brought him along. Sometimes he was less like a cat and more like a dog, just following us around, doing his own thing but also taking an interest every time he thought Brooks might have an apple or something in his hand.
He continued walking toward what I assumed to be the pond.
“Hey, I’m going to run to the truck to grab my pruners. Some of the trees are starting to get unruly and come into the path. Are you good for a couple of minutes?”
“Yeah. I’ll probably go check out the pond.”
“Sounds good.” He turned and started walking back down the path.
As he did, I snapped a few photos of him, surrounded by the trees in almost a perfect natural frame. I think if Brooks weren’t so good at running Hoffman Farm, he would have an excellent back-up career as a model.
Once I was done, I walked the opposite way, toward where Chicken went. It took me a little while, but I eventually made it to the opening at the end of the tree rows. It landed me in a grassy area surrounding a pretty body of water. Cattails stuck up out of the edges, and it had a slightly irregular oval shape. I couldn’t see the bottom, but it seemed pretty deep for a pond. The water was a bit murky, but clear enough I could make out the silhouettes of the fish swimming below the surface.
On the other side were the blackberries that we were going to look at next. In the correct seasons, they allowed people to come here and pick their own produce. People apparently loved it and traveled here just for the blackberries. There was something about them that made them extra juicy, I’d read. It was one of the big draws to Hallow’s Cove on tourist sites.
