He practically dislocated my jaw last night with his fruit gag, so I’m sure my mouth was slack while I slept. My room may be in the attic, but at least it’s newly renovated, so I don’t have to worry about inhaling moths and insect carcass spores.
I would happily let him shove another apple in my mouth. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experien—
“Why would we paint rocks? That seems kind of boring.” Thankfully, Tristan distracts me before the spark awakening on my skin can turn into a raging wildfire.
“That’s what you said about myScooby-Doogame, and you haven’t been able to put it down,” I smile playfully.
He lifts a finger to his lips, tapping it against his mouth in thought. “You’re right. What will we do with them, though?”
I pull up another picture. This one is an image of a rock sitting on a park bench with a painting of the earth that says,Hug your mother.
My lips lift. Clever.
“Well, little man, we would paint the rocks and leave them for people to find. It’s kind of like a fun game that makes them happy when they see it.”
“That’s kind of cool, I guess.” He shrugs.
“We can paint anything?” Elena drawls.
I nod. “Anything you want,” I agree.
“Can we leave them around for our brothers to find?” Tristan asks with curiosity painting his features now. He leans over the arm of my chair to scan the image again.
“Can we take some to The Honey Hut?” Elena jumps.
I smile. “I think that’s a great idea.”
With her fist pumping in the air, Elena exclaims, “It’s like an Easter egg hunt, but with rocks!”
I drum my fingers against the desk. We need paint and flat rocks.
Which means we need to go into town, and I need access to a vehicle.
My eyes bounce between the two of them. “How good are your begging skills?”
Elena’s handis clutching mine tightly as we stroll down the dirt road. She tugs a little harder, and I nearly trip over my feet. It’s more like she’s dragging me. When she gets excited about something, it goes straight to her feet. Or her mouth, because she won’t stop rambling about painting ideas for her rocks.
Tristan, Elena, and I round a corner in the dirt road, a massive shop coming into view at the dead end. Rossco darts ahead of us toward Colten’s black Ford in the parking lot as if he can sense his proximity. I swear my dog is more attached to him, and it shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does. He lowers his nose to the ground, sniffing around his tires until he gets to the driver’s side door. The sight of his truck spurs the vision of him eating me out in the passenger seat. The image of him unhinged. His words. His rough, calloused hands.
I release a breath, and with it, the memory, willing myself back to the present.
The building is striking against the dark greens of the trees. It’s the essence of a shop blended with the structure of a barn. The metal exterior is a pale green with giant wood sliding doors and rectangular windows with amber wood framing. It’s tucked in the orchard next to a grass field, a ten-minute walk from the house.
It’s beautiful.
“This is where his office is?” I ask.
Letting go of my hand, Elena runs toward the giant open barn doors. Rossco becomes disinterested in the truck, finding more amusement in the little girl running toward the building. A whirring sound of some kind of machinery emanates from the inside as they scamper toward it.
Tristan nods, pointing to a large set of windows on what I assume is the second floor. “Colten’s office is up there. I like helping him fix things in the shop when he lets me.”
“This place looks way too nice to be a shop,” I mumble under my breath.
“Cam and Bren said there used to be a party here. There were lots of people and rides, caramel apples, and even a costume contest.”
My eyes scan the building as Elena darts between the doors. “Elena, be careful,” I yell. I direct my attention back to Tristan as we near the doors. “Like a harvest party?”
“Yeah. Mom and Dad used to have one every year.” His mouth pulls downward, the frown making me want to reach for him. “Colten didn’t want to do them anymore.”
