“I think so? Not sure exactly what we’re doing here.” Liar. You knew exactly what you were hoping was on tap for the day.
“Simple,” he replied, stepping out from behind the stand with a crate. “We’re going shopping. Take over here for me, will you?” he asked, slapping the guy next to him on the back and handing him a clipboard.
As he led me out of the barn, he pointed out the giant deep freezers and coolers behind the workers. “Depending on the share you purchase, you can get everything and anything you want, when it’s in season. Some people opt in for a small share—just produce and sometimes specialty items like mushrooms or canned tomatoes. Some people go in for the full share, and they get protein each week. Sometimes pork, sometimes beef, always chicken, either whole roasters or already cut up. Usually eggs, and sometimes cheese.”
“You guys make cheese here too?” I asked, surprised at the scope of the operation.
“We don’t, but we work with other farms in the area to make sure the shares are really well rounded. We partner with Oscar Mendoza, the guy who runs the creamery the next farm over, to bring cheese, milk, butter, and all that for our customers.”
As I looked around, I noticed several baskets with big glass bottles of milk, smaller bottles of thick, heavy cream, and paper-wrapped butter, all stamped Bailey Falls Creamery.
“It seems like you don’t even have to go to the grocery store if you’re a member,” I said. This was how shopping used to be, back in the day.
“That’s what we hope. For the most part, you can feed your family entirely from locally sourced, clean-eating food,” he said, his voice full of pride. “Supermarkets have their place; that’s never going to change. But we like to think this can be just as convenient, and over time, it costs less than conventional stores.”
“And you know the guy who’s growing your food,” I said, warming to the idea that I would be preparing food that Leo’s hands pulled from the earth. Granted, I seemed to have special access to his hands this summer, but I was still tickled by the general idea. Also, his mouth. I’d like to be tickled by that mouth. Dammit, where was that romaine leaf? I needed fanning.
And speaking of his mouth, his was now turned up in a mischievous way. “What are you thinking about right now?” he asked.
“Honestly? Food.”
“Just food?”
“And your mouth,” I admitted.
His eyes widened, then narrowed. “C’mere.” He dragged me and his basket behind the barn, into a tiny cleft of the rock wall. And then his mouth pressed into mine in a flurry of licks and nibbles, and soft little moans and sighs.
“If I said I was thinking about more than your mouth, what would that get me?” I panted between fiery kisses.
“Trouble,” he replied, looking to his left and seeing a few people wandering close to where we were. “Come on, let’s go fill your basket.”
“I feel like that might be farm code for something way more fun than picking vegetables, but I’ll indulge you.” I laughed, straightening my dress, making it look like I hadn’t just been pressed between a rock and a hard farmer. “This would be the time to tell you I want the full share.”
“You got it.” He winked and, grabbing my basket, led me out into the fields.