"Kentucky," Autumn says, still looking at Olivia.
"Excuse me?" I'm not sure if she's talking to me or the kid, or if she has a case of Tourette's.
"My accent," she says, looking at me. Hell, her eyes are the greenest green I think I've ever seen. "It's from Kentucky. I don't know why I'm telling you that."
"West Bend is a long way from Kentucky." Shit, I sound like an idiot. I can't come up with anything better than that?
"I'm not an idiot, you know," she says.
"Hell, where did that come from? Did I say you were?"
She shakes her head. "Nope, but I know you thought it, when you were out here," she says. "You think I have no idea what I'm doing, out here running an orchard. And, well, I don't, not with the specifics of the orchard part anyway. That's why I need a foreman. But I know what I'm doing with making hard cider."
I hold up my beer. "Why are you offering me beer if you've got cider?"
She shrugs. "You look like a beer drinker," she says. "Have you had my cider?"
I almost say something lewd about what I'd like from her, but I bite my tongue. She seems too tightly wound to appreciate it, and her kid is sitting right here. "Can't say that I have."
Autumn stands up. "Keep an eye on Olivia for a second," she says, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Olivia and I stare at each other. She blinks a few times, eyeballing me as skeptically as a kid her age can.
"Can't say I blame you, looking at me like that, kid," I say, leaning closer to her high chair and sticking out my tongue at her. When she mimics me, sticking her tongue out and blowing raspberries before cackling hysterically, I find myself unreasonably thrilled.
Autumn reappears a moment later with a glass jug in her hand. "I see you're keeping each other entertained."
"You say that like we're on the same wavelength."
"Well, you're not that much older than her," she says, pouring me a glass. When she looks at me, she's smiling.
"You're full of jokes," I say. "At your age, I'm surprised your mind is still fresh."
"Hilarious," she says, wiping Olivia's face and hands with a towel. She takes the kid out of her high chair and she starts toddling around the room. "This is a small batch of cider, a new recipe. I'm trying a different apple."
I take a sip, half-concerned this is going to be one of those situations like when my buddies brew beer and it tastes like shit but I have to tell them it's great so they don't get their panties in a wad, but it's not one of those cases at all. "It's good. Legitimately good," I say. "Where the hell did you learn to brew cider?"
She smiles slyly as she walks past me, chasing after Olivia, who's disappearing into the living room. "I might not be able to cook, but I can brew," she says. "It's in my blood."
When she returns with Olivia on her hip, I stand. "I should go."
"Yeah," she says. "I have to get the baby a bath."
I pause there awkwardly for a second, because the weird thing is, I find myself not wanting to go. Usually I'm trying to run like hell out of a situation like this -- the kind where a chick is talking to me and not putting out. But I'm curious about this girl. "What did you mean, it's in your blood?"
"Brewing is," she says, following me to the door.
"You brew beer too?"
She shakes her head. "My family owned a distillery in Kentucky," she says. "Bourbon."
"Kentucky bourbon," I say. "That's southern."
She winks. "It's 'bout as southern as it gets," she says. "Thanks for the dinner."
I'm standing there on her doorstep, and it has to be those damn green eyes and that red hair and the way her lips fall open like they do that makes me say what I say next, as I turn to leave. "I'll be here tomorrow at seven," I say.
Fuck. What the hell am I doing?
"What do you mean?" she calls after me.
"You need a foreman, right?"
What the hell am I getting myself into?
CHAPTER SIX
Autumn
After Olivia is asleep, I lie in bed with my eyes closed, trying to sleep. But all I can see is him. Luke.
He's irritating as hell. Cocky, crude, arrogant, used to telling women what to do -- like the way he barged into the house and decided to rummage around my kitchen and cook.
Okay, so the cooking part wasn't really bad. That part was really good, actually. It's been a long time since a man has cooked for me. Scratch that. Make that ever. Edward wasn't big into cooking for me. Or doing much of anything else for me, come to think of it.
Luke, on the other hand…looks like he knows how to do lots of things for women. The thought of what he could do for me makes heat rush through my body. It's been a long time – embarrassingly long – since I've gotten laid.
Being pregnant and having a baby doesn't exactly make me marketable in terms of dating. My vibrator has become my best friend.
That's only slightly depressing.