* * *
“I think she’s waking up.”
When I next opened my eyes, four faces peered down at me. One of them belonged to Linda, the elderly woman who sold hand-dyed yarns at the booth beside ours. She was waving an old paper fan over my face. “Give ’er some room. Awfully hot today!”
The other three faces belonged to Zach, Leah and Maeve, who were all crouching over me.
I closed my eyes and cursed.
“That a bad word!” Maeve chirped.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling to sit up.
“Don’t rush,” Linda fussed, her surprisingly strong hand landing at my shoulder. “Or you’ll just be plunking right down again. Went down like a sack of potatoes, you did.”
But I didn’t want to lie there on the grass with people staring at me. So I grabbed the edge of the table and prepared to haul myself up.
Zach wasn’t having it. He leaned down and grabbed me off the lawn, one hand under my knees, the other at my lower back. Then I was airborne and headed out the back of our stall.
Grumpy now, I wanted to struggle, but that sounded tiring. My limbs still felt heavy, so I settled for giving Zach a stern look.
But it backfired when he gave me a sterner one. “Not a fan of you passing out like that.”
“It’s hot,” I said in my defense.
He set me down on the back of the truck. “Stay here while I get you some water.”
Water sounded good, damn it. So I did what I was told. “Who’s selling apples?” I asked when he returned, twisting the top off a fresh bottle.
“Leah and Maeve. Drink this. All of it.” The hottest young farmhand in Vermont wore a stony look on his perfect face, suggesting I shouldn’t even try to argue.
I took a deep drink and began to feel more like myself. “Where was she, anyway?” I tried to ask the question casually, but when I looked into Zach’s stormy eyes I knew I wasn’t fooling him. It wasn’t the heat that made me lose my shit a few minutes ago.
Today’s score: Fear 1, Lark 0.
“Under the table at the flower-sellers’, looking at their new kitty.” He smiled for the first time since my little incident, and it changed his face back into a more recognizable landscape. “I’m like, ‘Maeve, we’ve been looking everywhere!’ And she says, ‘Look, Zacky, kitty’s name is Cocoa!”
I laughed, and it made my head throb. Unconsciously, I lifted a hand to the back of my skull where a goose egg was forming. Zach’s smile slipped away. “Is it bad? I didn’t see you go down.”
“No,” I said quickly, though my answer would have been the same no matter what. “Can we keep this little incident to ourselves?”
He hesitated. “Griff is worried about you.”
“And that’s exactly why I asked.”
“Well…” Zach rubbed the golden whiskers on his chin. “All right. If you insist. I’m not very good at saying no to you.”
Two or three silly, flirty responses flew to mind, and yet I bit every one of them back. “Thank you,” I said instead. “Would you go sell some apples now? I feel like a heel for causing drama.”
He measured me with big, blue eyes, checking one more time for any lingering problems. “All right. There’s only fifteen minutes before we close down, though.”
“Still.”
We stared at each other for one long beat. Then he took a step closer and I grabbed him into a hug. A tight one. He was so warm and steady against me that I inhaled like someone surfacing again after being underwater for too long. He kissed my hair and sighed. “Fifteen more minutes.”
“I lean on you too much,” I whispered. While leaning on him.
“Too much for what?” He gave me one more squeeze and then walked away.
* * *
For once I didn’t even try to do my share while Zach loaded the truck. I counted the cash box he brought me, and then I waited with it on the passenger’s seat. I drank a lot of water and tried to forget how shaky I’d felt before.
At last we were rolling toward home. I put on the Chili Peppers, of course. I needed their positive mojo to get the darkness out of my head.
“You want to tell me what happened back there?” Zach asked when we were on the highway.
“It was hot.”
He gave me a pointed side-eye before returning his gaze to the road.
“I freaked out a little.”
“Because we couldn’t find Maeve?”
“Yeah. It was like…” I scrambled for words to define something I try never to think about. “A trigger, I guess.” The shadows were always right there, waiting in the wings of my consciousness. A pair of hands coming out of nowhere. The scream I’d managed to let out. But then nobody came.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Please don’t bother the Shipleys about it,” I begged. I hadn’t bailed on my own family only to trouble someone else’s.
“I told you I wouldn’t. But I sure hope it doesn’t happen again.”
You and me both. “You know, Griff was always the one bailing May and I out in college,” I admitted. “He’s the one we turned to when things went wrong.”
“Yeah?” He was quiet for a second. “Did you ever date him?”
“No way!” What a crazy idea. “I’m not attracted to Griff, but I loved all the Shipleys as soon as I met them. I’m an only child, and I have always envied May her big family. And Griff was still at BU when we were freshmen. We used to call him up all the time those first two years. If we were too drunk to drive, we called Griffin instead of a cab. When we ran out of gas, or got a flat, we called him.”
“Sounds like a pretty sweet deal.”
“It was. I liked the way he was always there for us, but without judgment, you know?”
“He never gave you any crap for getting stranded without gas? That doesn’t sound like Griffin.”
“Oh sure! He gave us hell all the time. ‘How could you need a jump right in the middle of Monday night football? Now who owes me a batch of cookies?’ But there was no real guilt attached to it, there weren’t any speeches about how we let him down. My parents always take my antics personally.”
“That’s harsh. Except at least you know they cared.”
And that’s when I realized what a spoiled brat I sounded like. Zach didn’t have two independently wealthy parents sitting in a Boston home, praying for his continued survival. So what if my parents’ overbearing nature had fed my antics as a teenager? At the end of the night, no matter how many times I’d snuck out of my bedroom window to break curfew, I’d always known they were there, hoping for my return.
“Anyway. Griff has always been good to me. But I don’t want to be his problem this fall.”
He reached a hand over and squeezed my forearm. “Who’s problem do you want to be, then?”
Right. “I seem to be yours, I guess. I’m sorry.”
His hand plucked mine off the seat and gave it a squeeze. “You can be my problem any time.”
I interlaced my fingers with his, feeling a little guilty about the rush of love I felt for Zach. He was bright and shiny and flawless. And I wasn’t any of those things.
“So how about this weather?” Zach said, lowering his window as far as it would go. “I just don’t understand how anyone could doubt global warming is real.”
“I know, right? But they’ll believe soon, when more coffee plants die off in Central America. The arabica plant doesn’t do as well in higher temperatures.”
“No lie? Then we’re doomed, Lark. The Shipley farm runs on coffee.”
“I think even the most cynical politicians will come around when their access to coffee is thwarted. And hops aren’t growing so well in Washington State lately. So beer could be next.”
“You are just full of bad news.”
Why yes, I was.
“I know something that could cheer us up. And cool us down.”
“Then let’s hear it. Is it ice cream?”
“No. It’s a surprise. Just
wait and see.”
14
Zach
When I passed the Shipleys’ long driveway and kept going, Lark gave me the side-eye. But the turnoff I needed was just a half-mile further away, past the bungalow, but on the opposite side of the road. I eased the truck into the overgrown weeds by the tree line and parked her.
“We’re here,” I said. “Hop out and I’ll grab the towels.”
“Towels? Are we going to swim?”
“Or wade. Splash around. Just cool down a little.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see in sixty seconds.”
Lark removed her phone from her pocket before hopping out of the truck, while I searched the crate of extra supplies that I always drove around with on market days. There were two towels, one decent, one tattered.
Good enough.
“It’s right through that break in the trees,” I said, pointing. And we could hear the rushing water of the creek even before we saw it.
“Wow!” Lark said from ahead of me on the path. “It’s like a pool.”
It was. Some very big rocks turned the tributary here, creating a short waterfall of only a couple of feet, but then holding the water captive in a hole beneath it. When I reached her side, she was admiring the swimming hole and smiling. “The water is pretty fast right now,” I noticed. “It’s all that rain we’ve had. Just walk slowly, okay? The rocks can get slippery.”
“I’ll be careful,” she promised, kicking off her shoes and socks. “I’d rather not hit my head twice in one day.” She stepped carefully down the bank until the water found her toes. “Oh, this is heaven.”
Heaven was watching the water lick her smooth calves.
“It’s not even cold. How deep is that spot?” she asked, pointing to the central pool.
I tapped my chest. “Here, probably.”
“I’m going in,” she announced. Then she reached under her tank top to unhook her bra before easing it out from under the tiny shirt. The bra became airborne, landing at my feet.
White lace. Now I’d be picturing her in nothing but that with great frequency, damn it.
Off came her shorts while I tried not to swallow my tongue. Her back was to me, and I watched the little triangle of her panties come into view. “Catch,” she said before flinging the shorts backward over her shoulder.
Somehow I caught them. Then I had a wrestling match with myself while I tried to decide whether it was more polite to move her discarded bra to a rock in the sun or to leave it there. In the end I scooped it up and dropped it onto the towels. By the time I looked back, Lark was chest deep in water and smiling at me. “Aren’t you coming in?”
That was the question. “I hadn’t planned on it. When we drive back to the Shipleys’ there will be tourists everywhere.”
She rolled her eyes. “So park behind the bunkhouse. We can run in for a change of clothes. Nobody will notice.”
The girl made an excellent point. So I dropped the truck’s key onto the towels and shed my T-shirt.
She watched with a guilty little smile on her face, too. Rolling up the hem of my shorts, I waded in very slowly, mindful of the slippery rocks. Wiping out like a loser while she watched wasn’t part of my plan. The water felt great. It was cold but not punishing.
“This was the best idea ever, Zach.” She kicked her feet and swam the short distance that the small pool allowed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said as she swam by again, her silky arms glistening in the water.
“Is this a public spot?” she asked. “I probably should have asked that before getting half naked.”
I laughed. “It’s Isaac and Leah’s property.”
“Oh, good.”
We lasted ten minutes or so in the cold water. “Your lips are blue,” she teased.
And, damn it. That made me focus on her lips. It was all too easy to remember how they tasted against mine. “Yours, too.” I got out first, taking the tattered little towel and wiping myself down as best I could. I held the better one out for her and tried to avert my eyes as she emerged dripping wet, the tank molded to perfect breasts, her nipples pointing straight at me.
Lord save me, but it was hard to look away.
She wrapped the towel around her midsection, which helped. “Avert your eyes,” she said after we tiptoed back to the truck on wet feet. I looked away while she stripped off her soaking tank and put on the sweatshirt she’d been wearing this morning.
“Well, that was refreshing!” she said once she’d climbed back into the truck, still wearing the towel around her waist.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed.
But now I was heated up in different ways than I’d been before.
* * *
The next couple of weeks I spent a lot of time trying not to kiss Lark.
I didn’t kiss her at the Montpelier market, even when she brought me a sandwich and laughed at my terrible jokes. I didn’t kiss her when we were kneeling very close together, sanding the baseboards in the bungalow kitchen. Alone.
And I certainly didn’t kiss her when we beat May and Dylan at cards. Twice.
I had never had more fun than sitting around the coffee table during a downpour, eating popcorn and playing euchre. It was a Sunday afternoon, and for once in my life I took a real break.
Most Sundays Griffin worked just as hard as the other six days of the week. As a paid employee, technically I had most of Sunday off. But I never took the free hours. I couldn’t sit around watching a movie or reading a book if Griff was in the cider house pressing apples. It just didn’t feel right.
Usually.
But the pull of Lark’s company was strong. She was a card shark. Euchre was a partners’ game, and there was nothing better than looking across the table at her regal face, wondering what secrets those glittering eyes held.
“Spades,” she said slowly, as if weighing a grave decision. “And Zach, put your cards down. I’m going it alone.”
“You don’t have to!” May pointed out. “You guys only need one point to win again.”
“But I’m a glory hog,” Lark said. “And it’s your lead.”
“Oh, man,” Dylan complained to his sister. “This won’t go well for us.”
It didn’t, either. Lark’s victory was swift. When she laid down her fifth winning card she let out a whoop and leapt to her feet. She leaned in to hug me over the coffee table, and I hoisted her over it and into the air.
Victory was sweet, and so was the scent of her hair.
I might have kissed her then, in front of God and everybody. I was that far gone for her. But I was saved by the distraction of a bolt of lightning which somehow shone brighter than my lust. It was followed immediately by a clap of thunder so loud that May screamed, and Lark’s body spasmed in my arms.
“It’s okay,” I said immediately. My subconscious was always ready to soothe her. I set her down carefully.
She’d had a rough couple of weeks, if I was honest. After her incident at the farmers’ market in Norwich, I’d spent quite a few nights in her bed, and not for a fun reason. She was still afraid, damn it. And the guy who soothes you when you scream should never roll over and ask for a kiss. It just wasn’t right.
So even though I woke up every morning burning up with need, I never gave in to the temptation to taste her again.
“Well, it’s been fun losing to you guys,” Dylan said, picking up his coffee mug. “But after that drubbing I’m going to do some homework.” He left the room to another clap of thunder.
May’s nose was pressed against the glass, where rain was coming down in sheets. “This weather is crazy. I wonder where Griff is?” she asked.
The answer came a couple of minutes later when the kitchen door banged open and Griff yelled for his brother. “Dyl! I need another set of hands! We got a tree down.”
“I’ll help,” I said, jogging toward the door, my leisurely Sunday forgotten. I grabbed a raincoat off a hook—a coat that had belonged to Griffin’s fat
her. There was no room for sentiment when it came to gear on a farm. A rain jacket couldn’t be sacred. It wasn’t a keepsake. Life went on.
“Thanks, man,” Griff grunted.
“Where’s the downed tree?”
“Laying across the chicken fence. Just a birch, though.”
After shoving my feet into Dylan’s rain boots, I ran outside with Griff. It only took us fifteen minutes or so to remove the blown-down tree and set the chickens’ portable electric fence to rights.
“Thanks, again,” Griff said when we were done.
“Don’t mention it.” He went back to the cider house alone. Before I came inside, I lifted the hinged sides of the chicken tractor and felt around for eggs, collecting a half dozen in the folds of my coat, and saving Dylan a trip out in the rain later.
When I carefully opened the door and stepped inside, mindful of the eggs cradled in one arm, Lark was alone in the kitchen.
“Oh, Jesus,” she said, looking up at me with disbelief. “Looks like you went for a swim in those clothes.”
“I think I did. Could you…”
She had already crossed the room to me, and when she saw what I was carrying she put down her mug and began gently moving the eggs onto the kitchen counter. “Nice haul.”
“Yeah. I learned the hard way never to put them in my pockets.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Big mistake.” I unbuttoned the rain coat, and Lark pushed the wet thing off my shoulders. Her hands grazed my body, and my libido sat up and begged. Then she grabbed a dry dish towel out of the drawer and raised it to my hairline, catching the drips of water there.
We were so close together that everything went quiet inside me.
“You’re always the first one to jump when Griffin needs a hand,” Lark said quietly.
“I don’t mind.”
With one smooth thumb she brushed water off my cheekbone. The sweep of her skin against mine was at once familiar and electrifying. Whenever she touched me, I felt as if I’d loved her my whole life.