"Fine," I said a little too quickly. "Just thinking about how Buck's been having trouble with those grain beetles again."
From the corner of my eye, I saw him nod slowly, but the curve of his mouth told me he wasn't fooled for a second.
The rest of the drive passed in a silence thick enough to cut with a knife. I kept my attention firmly on the landscape rolling past—the green fields, the clusters of farmhouses in the distance, the occasional transport kicking up dust on a parallel road. Anything but the male sitting beside me, radiating warmthand that damned knowing amusement that made me want to both hide and lean closer.
When Buck and Lula's farm finally came into view, relief flooded through me. The sprawling property was one of the largest on Tau Ceti, with rows upon rows of crops stretching toward the horizon. The main house sat at the center. A two-story white clapboard structure that reminded me of the house from that old TV show my grandpa was fond of, The Waltons.
"Big place," Cristox observed as we pulled up the long drive.
"Buck and Lula have been here since the second wave of colonists," I explained, grateful for the neutral topic. "They've been experimenting with Earth crops for years. Most don't take well to the atmosphere, but Buck's stubborn as hell." He was also rumored to have been Elvis Presley in his former life on Earth, but I kept that to myself. It was only a rumor, though he did look an awful lot like the young Elvis.
"Sounds like someone else I know," Cristox murmured, and I shot him a glare that he met with pure innocence.
Before I could respond, the front door burst open and a figure emerged—a tall, lean, broad-shouldered man with an impressive pompadour of silver-streaked black hair and sideburns that belonged in a history book. He wore work pants and a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and when he grinned, I swear the sun glinted off his teeth.
"Ruby! Right on time!" Buck's voice had that distinctive drawl that made everything sound like a song. "Glad to see you, Cristox. I didn't realize you two knew each other."
He turned as a woman appeared in the doorway—Lula, wiping her hands on an apron, her round face creasing into a warm smile. "Lula, Ruby's here and she's brought her fella!"
"He's not my—" I started, but Lula was already bustling over. Teddy scrambled out of the truck, distracted by the sound of laughter coming from somewhere behind the house.
"Can I go play?" Teddy asked, bouncing on his toes, his tail swishing excitedly.
"Stay where we can see you," I said automatically, and he was off like a shot, following the sound.
Lula pulled me into a hug that smelled like fresh bread and herbs. "Ruby, sweetheart, glad to see you. And Cristox, glad you could make it." She patted his arm with the easy familiarity of someone who'd never met a stranger. "Come on in. I've got lemonade cooling, and then Buck can show you those tomatoes he's been fussing over."
"Actually," Buck said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, "I thought we'd head straight to the greenhouse. Ruby's here on business, after all, and I'm dying to show off what we've managed."
I caught the gleam in his eyes. Buck loved nothing more than showing off his vegetables. "Lead the way," I said.
As we walked toward the greenhouse, Buck launched into his story. I'd heard it a million times, but Cristox was a virgin set of ears. "Now, Earth tomatoes are finicky as hell in this atmosphere. The UV levels are all wrong, the soil composition needs constant adjustment, and don't even get me started on the pollination issues. But I'll tell you what—" He paused dramatically, and I would swear I heard the opening bars of "Suspicious Minds" in my head. The rumors that Buck had been Elvis in another life weren't hard to believe when he got going like this. "—we've cracked it. Took us three years and more failures than I care to count, but we've got beauties in there that would make any Earth farmer weep."
"Buck's being modest," Lula added, walking beside me while the men strode ahead. "He's been obsessed. I told him,'Buck, honey, maybe we should focus on crops that actually want to grow here,' but you know how he gets."
"Stubborn?" I suggested.
"Determined," she corrected with a wink. "There's a difference."
Ahead of us, Cristox listened intently to Buck's explanation of soil additives and atmospheric filters, asking questions that showed he was genuinely paying attention. Something warm unfurled in my chest at the sight. It was such a small thing, but it spoke to the kind of man he was. The kind who cared about others, who took the time to understand their passions.
The greenhouse loomed before us, the panels slightly tinted to filter the harsh Tau Ceti sunlight. Buck pulled open the door with a flourish, and we stepped into a different world—humid, green, and smelling of earth and growing things.
And there, in neat rows, were the tomatoes.
"Oh, Buck," I breathed, moving closer. They were beautiful—plump and red and perfect, hanging heavy on the vines. There was an alien fruit that mimicked the taste of tomatoes, but it was blue, and the consistency could be hard to work with. Admittedly, it took me some time to get used to blue spaghetti and meatballs.
"Go on, try one." Buck plucked a cherry tomato from the vine and handed it to me.
I bit into the small red orb, and the burst of flavor—sweet and tangy and so perfectly tomato—made me close my eyes. "Oh my God."
"Good?" Buck asked, but his grin said he already knew the answer.
"These are going to be perfect for the restaurant," I said, already imagining the dishes I could create. Tomato tarts,tomato basil biscuit cups, fresh tomato spice cake, tomato and almond galette… "Buck, if you can supply us regularly..."
"That's the plan, darlin'. We've got four more greenhouses coming online next month. You'll have all the tomatoes you can handle, plus peppers, eggplant, zucchini—the whole garden, if you want it."
Cristox accepted a tomato from Buck and ate it thoughtfully. "This is remarkable. I've had Earth food before, but this tastes..." He paused, searching for the word. "Alive."
