“I just think it’s a shame, is all,” Layla reaches across me and grabs another handful of popcorn and a kernel lands in my lap. I flick it off and hit Becky Gardener right in the back of the head. Christ. I wince and sink further in my chair. “You two seemed to hit it off.”
What we seemed to do is circle each other like two skittish kittens. After I went to visit her at the bed and breakfast, I promised I’d give her a wide berth to do her job. It had been harder than I expected, keeping that promise. Seeing her standing among the rows and rows of trees on the farm, a smile on her face, her hands passing over the branches—well. It was like taking a baseball bat to the face. Repeatedly. But the contest meant everything to Stella, and I wasn’t about to ruin our chances with a … with a …
A crush? A flirtation?
I don’t even know what.
All I know is that it was a challenge for me to be around her. I couldn’t stop thinking about my body curled around hers. The way the skin just below her ear tasted. How it felt to have all that hair brush against my jaw, my shoulders, the tops of my thighs. I found myself wanting to make her laugh, wanting to talk to her.
I can count on one hand the number of people I want to talk to.
But we figured it out, settled into a routine while she was here. Cordial conversation and polite nods. A single slice of shared zucchini bread on a quiet afternoon—plenty of space between us. That same electric current that tugged us together at a dive bar in Maine knit slowly back together in a thin thread of connection.
And then she left. Again.
And unfortunately for me, I still haven’t figured out how to stop thinking about her.
“What kind of peppers?”
I shake my head once, trying to pry loose an image of Evelyn standing in between two towering oak trees on the edge of the property, her face in profile and tilted towards the sky. The sun had painted her in shimmering golds, leaves fluttering lightly around her. I clear my throat and adjust my position in the folding chair, my knee knocking sideways into Layla’s. I’m way too big for these chairs and there are too many damn people in this room. “What?”
“What type of peppers are you planting? I haven’t seen any markers for peppers out in the field.”
The back of my neck goes hot. “You never go out in the fields.”
“I’m in the fields every day.”
She walks through the fields, sure, on the way to the bakehouse situated smack dab in the middle of them. But she never finds herself in the produce crop. Not unless she needs something. I scratch at my jaw, frustrated. I’d bet my savings she finds something she needs out there tomorrow morning.
“Bell,” I manage between clenched teeth.
Shit, now I need to go out and plant bell peppers.
Layla hums, eyes alight with mischief. “What color?”
“What?”
“What color bell pepper—” she puts an annoying emphasis on the words. “—have you planted?”
“He planted red bell peppers in the southeast fields in two rows next to the zucchini. Which you will get absolutely none of if you do not pay attention,” Stella snaps. Layla and I both glance at her in shock. It’s not like Stella to get aggravated. Not to mention that is … not a true statement. And we both know it.
Some of the steel melts out of her shoulders and she slumps, handing Layla back her popcorn bowl.
“Sorry. I’m stressed.”
“Clearly,” Layla says in a laugh, hand back to rummaging around in her snacks. Her eyes find mine and hold, narrowing until all I can see is a glimpse of hazel. She still has some jelly in her hair from baking earlier today. Strawberry, by the looks of it. She points her finger right between my eyebrows and taps me there once. “Don’t think I’m going to forget about this.”
I swat her hand away. She could persist on this topic for the next six months for all I care. It’ll just sound like background noise.
I turn my attention to Stella and wedge my boot against hers. She stops the nervous tapping of her foot and grimaces. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize over,” I shrug and scan the edges of the room. “Luka not coming?”
If Luka were here, he’d smooth his hand between her shoulder blades and she’d melt like butter. They were like that before they got together, and it took them a stupidly long time to see what was right in front of them. I didn’t win the town-wide betting pool, but it was close. Gus over at the fire station hasn’t shut up about it, going as far as making a plaque to hang above the ambulance bay at the firehouse. It says Inglewild’s Top Matchmaker, like he had anything to do with Luka and Stella orbiting each other for close to a decade. I slip down further in my seat and try to rearrange my legs so I actually fit in this damn chair.
“He’s on his way,” she says, eyes darting to the door and holding like she can make him appear by sheer force of will. A hand pushes tangled black curls off her face. “But he’s running late.”
“He’ll be here,” I assure her. Pretty sure Luka wouldn’t miss this for anything. Even if his tiny Italian mother and all her ferocious sisters were blocking the door. If he said he’d come, he’ll be here.
“Hey,” I lower my voice and lean closer, conscious of Layla still snacking away on my right. She’s started tossing pieces up in the air and catching them in her mouth. Accurate every time. “I didn’t plant any bell peppers.”
That seems to relax Stella a bit, a coy smile turning the corners of her lips. “I know that.”
“Why’d you lie then?”
“Because you looked like you needed an out. And I know a thing or two about having to sort through feelings before you can share them with everyone else.” The door to the rec hall creaks open and Luka steps inside, eyes searching. His hair is sticking in every direction, the edge of his shirt half-tucked into his jeans. He looks like he ran straight here from the Delaware border. Stella breathes out a sigh and a grin pulls her mouth wide. An answering smile blooms on Luka’s face the second he finds her in the crowd. Watching them together is like shoving a cupcake directly into my face.
“Plus,” Stella’s eyes don’t blink away from Luka as he tries to climb his way through rows of people to get to the empty seat next to her. He knocks over a folding chair and almost sends Cindy Croswell to the ground with it. “I’ve been wanting bell peppers on the farm for ages.”
“Ah, okay. There it is.”
“Luka makes really good stuffed peppers,” she chuckles as Luka slips into the space next to her. His hand immediately sneaks under her hair and her shoulders do a little shimmy as she leans further into him. I avert my eyes to the front of the room where Sheriff Jones is getting ready at the wooden podium, but I don’t miss the low murmuring between them, the way Stella folds her body into his. How Luka’s foot hooks in the bottom of her chair to pull her a little bit closer.
Not for the first time, I’m jealous. I’ve never had that with another person. Never been able to slide into someone’s space and press my fingertips to their skin, watch them lean further into me.