Page 36 of The Trouble with Flings

“Not here,” he says. “But my mother loves gardening. She taught me a thing or two over the years.”

I like knowing that.

As we follow the group to the next row, he says, “She makes big family breakfasts some Sunday mornings, and during the summer she uses fresh ingredients from her garden and from local farms. I try to go with her to the farms when I can.”

“That’s really sweet.” I think about my mom, who I see once every couple of months. I can’t remember the last time we did anything other than eat a meal, celebrate a holiday or birthday, or go shopping together.

Jagger picks a cacao pod from a tree and tells us about it as he cuts it open. He offers each of us a piece of the slimy pulp that surrounds the seeds.

I study it skeptically before eating it. “Mm,” I say, surprised by how juicy and sweet it is.

“It’s almost as sweet and tangy as you are,” Fitz whispers, and then he kisses my neck.

That’s all it takes for my body to come alive and my mind to take a stroll down Sexy Lane. I shoot him a look, and he grins, leaning in to kiss my lips. This man of mine—for this week—knows just how to get me going.

We learn how to harvest yucca plants, and Fitz teases me about needing leather boots and an axe. Eventually we make our way to an outdoor kitchen, where we meet two friendly women who work there. The kitchen is nothing like what I expected, which seems to be a theme this week. It’s a covered patio, with knee-high walls, terra-cotta tile floors, and long worktables around the perimeter, littered with cutting boards, cast-iron pans, and other accoutrements.

There are several small café tables on one side of the patio, and in the center of the kitchen is an enormous wood-fired brick stove with several cooktops, blackened from use.

Jagger feeds a split log into the fire, and smoke curls up through the grates as we choose our workstations.

Fitz nudges me, lifting his chin toward a beautiful tall woman with long golden-brown hair in a flowy sundress heading over from the farmhouse. “That’s Deirdra.” He waves to her.

Deirdra’s jaw drops. She picks up her leisurely pace, and Dolly runs out to greet her. She pets Dolly, and as they step onto the patio, one of the teenagers calls Dolly, and she scampers toward them.

“Fitz Silver, what the heck are you doing in Costa Rica?” Deirdra exclaims.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m learning to cook.” He draws her into an embrace. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. Can you believe it?” She puts a hand over her stomach. “Me, pregnant?”

“If you asked me that before you met Jagger, no way. But now? Absolutely. You’ll be an amazing mother.” He puts a hand on my lower back and says, “Deirdra, this is my friend Jennifer.”

“Hi,” I say. “Congratulations on your pregnancy. When are you due?”

“July fourth.” Deirdra arches her finely manicured brows, looking curiously between me and Fitz. “I’m going to have to lodge a complaint with the girls back home. They’re slacking on the gossip. I didn’t even know Fitz was seeing anyone.”

“Oh, we’re not really…We’re just…” Having fun? Hanging out? Thankfully, Fitz steps in and explains.

“We met last summer and recently reconnected,” he says smoothly, settling that calming hand on my lower back again.

“Careful, you two,” Deirdra says. “That’s how Jagger and I started.”

“And look how happy you are now,” Fitz says.

Deirdra gazes lovingly at Jagger across the patio and says, “One day you’re a cutthroat attorney living in Boston, and the next you’re in love with a hippie, living in a van, and traveling the world.”

“That’s a big change,” I say.

“Huge,” Deirdra says. “Fitz can tell you. He and I go way back.”

“He mentioned you grew up together. Is it true that he was always the good one?” I ask.

Deirdra grins. “Definitely. Except for that one time when we felt each other up in the back of my parents’ restaurant. Although I think I was the instigator in that scenario.”

“Jesus, Dee.” Fitz shakes his head. “Did you have to go there?”

“It’s okay,” I say, leaning into him. “I’m sure it was a memorable experience. You’re damn good with your hands.”