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“Uh, no.” But I can definitely imagine it and it sounds like the start of a horror movie.

“Yeah, well, it’s not great. Customers don’t really like it.” She gives me a frown. “I usually go around picking them off the trees before the lot opens for the season. But I’ve been so busy with the songwriting stuff, I forgot to check the trees for them until this morning. And there are…a lot.” Her shoulders droop.

“So what’s your plan?” I ask, giving her a nudge with my shoulder.

Paisley momentarily leans into me, her temple brushing against my upper arm. I’m tempted to reach out and wrap my arm around her, but before I can contemplate the wisdom of attempting a bold move like that, she pulls away.

“My plan is for us to brainstorm the next song we’ll work on while we pick praying mantis egg sacs off these pines and collect them in the buckets. What do you say?”

I look down into her warm, dark eyes. She’s done so much for me in the past few days, it’s time I return the favor. “Sounds like a plan. I’m in,” I say. “But we should add some stakes to make it more interesting.”

Paisley tilts her head, and I can’t resist giving her a devilish smirk.

“Isn’t the fact that you’re on a supertight deadline high enough stakes for you already?”

I shrug. “That’s business; this is for fun.”

“Okay, what are you thinking, Kash?” she asks in her no-nonsense voice. I can tell she wants to get started gathering the eggs—Paisley’s not a procrastinator like me.

“I dunno,” I say. It’s not like I’ve had time to think this through. “Whoever picks the most praying mantis egg sacs…”

“Is a rotten egg?” she says.

“What are you, like, six?” I ask, teasing her with her own words.

She smirks. “I’m rubber, you’re glue.”

“Next thing you know, we’ll be double-dog daring each other…That’s it!” I clap my hands together. “Whoever picks the most praying mantis egg sacs has to follow through with the winner’s choice of a double-dog dare.”

“I dunno,” she says.

“C’mon. The odds are stacked against me. You’re a pro and this is my first time as an egg sac exterminator.”

Paisley’s nostrils flare in apparent horror. “We aren’t going to kill them, Kash. We’re just going to relocate them. Praying mantises are one of the few natural predators of spotted lanternflies and—”

“Whoa,” I say, giving her arm a gentle tug. “Hold your horses. I was just trying to point out that out of the two of us, you have a significant advantage.”

She gives me the once-over and rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine,” she says. “You have a deal.”

Paisley hands me a bucket and a pair of gardening shears. “Readysetgo,” she blurts, grabbing a bucket and racing to the closest tree. She moves fast, snipping and dropping an egg sac into the bucket. “Cut off a piece of the branch it’s on,” she calls over to me. “But not too much or you’ll mess up the shape of the trees.”

It takes me a while to find my rhythm, but soon we’re dropping egg sacs in our buckets at a steady clip, my one for every two of hers.

Thud. Thud thud.

Thud. Thud thud.

I need to pick up the pace if I have any chance for a win.

The breeze whispers through the treetops. A bird sings and Paisley pauses to glance up at it. She whistles a short tune, and I’m pretty sure the bird tweets it back.

I start humming the song, the melody evolving as I work my way down the row.

Thud. Thud thud.

Beside me, Paisley joins in, humming a line of harmony. Her lips curl up into a smile. “Is this our next project?”

“You think there’s enough here to make it work?”