He grumbles softly and tightens his arms around me, a wordless protest. “Just… a few more minutes,” he says, voice muffled against my shoulder.
I laugh, the sound low and fond, and bend to kiss the top of his head. “Okay,” I concede, holding him a little closer. “A few more minutes.”
Ashton looks sexy as hell riding a tractor. His white T-shirt clings to his sweat-damp chest, a baseball cap pulled low to shield his face from the blistering sun. The muscles in his forearms flex as he grips the steering wheel, guiding the tractor down a row of cherry trees with the harvester hitched behind it.
Juan operates the harvester, his hands flying over the controls as the machine clamps around the base of a tree. It shudders violently, loosening the fruit and sending cherries raining down onto the tarp below. The red orbs tumble onto the conveyor belt, rattling past spinning brushes that strip away leaves and snapped twigs before dropping them into a massive metal crate with a dull, satisfying clang.
I hang back at the edge of the orchard, content to watch him work. He’s in his element out here, completely focused.
When he reaches the end of the row, he finally glances up and spots me. His face breaks open into a wide, unguarded grin. He lifts one hand and gives an excited, exaggerated wave. Then he kills the engine and twists in his seat toward Juan.
“Take fifteen,” he calls.
Juan laughs, wiping his forearm across his soaked forehead. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” He hops down, claps Ashton on the shoulder as he passes, and heads off toward the shade, boots crunching through dirt until he disappears from view.
Ashton climbs down from the tractor and starts toward me, then slows, hesitating a few feet away. “Uh—” He gestures vaguely at himself. “I’m all sweaty.”
I roll my eyes and step forward, wrapping my arms around him anyway. “Tragic,” I say dryly, hugging him tight. He laughs, breath warm against my neck, and melts into me. I keep him there, feeling the solid weight of him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, pulling back just enough to look at me.
I smile. “Our baby has been born.”
His brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, I reach into the bag at my side and pull out an aluminum can, cool and gleaming in the sun. I hold it out to him.
Cherry Moon.
The name curves across the front in clean lettering, set against Olivia’s design—a red, cherry-shaped moon suspended in a black, star-speckled sky. She really outdid herself with the logo, happy to add another project into her growing portfolio.
For a moment, Ashton just stares. His breath catches before he slowly reaches out and takes the can from my hand. He turns it over in his palm, studying every detail with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Wow,” he says softly. “This looks incredible.”
“This is just the prototype,” I explain. “The manufacturer’s printing the full run as we speak. They should be done in a few days so we can bottle the next cider batch.”
He glances down at me, eyes bright. “You really think we’re ready to release it to the public?”
I nod. “Yep. It’ll be on tap at the taproom this weekend, and a few local grocery stores are stocking it too.”
“Damn.” He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”
I smile, brushing the back of my hand over his flushed cheek. “We made something really great together, Ash. They’re gonna love it.”
He looks down at me through half-lidded eyes, nibbling on his bottom lip. “We’ve both sunk a lot of money into this. What if it doesn’t sell?” His jaw tightens as he looks away. “I’d never hear the end of it from my father.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. I promise. Fourth of July is next week—one of the biggest times of the year for alcohol sales.”
“I hope you’re right.” Ashton tips the can toward me, eyebrows raised. “Wanna share this with me before I go back to work?”
I raise an eyebrow, a smirk curling my lips. “Drinking on the job, Ash? You’re sonaughty.”
His face flushes as red as the cherries surrounding us. “Shut up.”
I snicker and lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’d love to share a drink with you, baby.”
His grin turns triumphant as he leads me a short distance into the orchard, stopping beneath a broad cherry tree where the branches cast a patch of cool shade over the grass. We sit close, knees brushing. Ashton cracks open the can with a sharp hiss and takes a long sip before handing it to me.
