Misinterpreting my sigh, Leo kissed the tip of my nose. “It’s totally normal to have butterflies, Sugar Snap.”
From the kitchen, we were peeping through the window in the swinging door. We’d needed an extra moment to collect ourselves. After all, he’d been inside not two minutes before. Even thinking these words made me clench. Mmm . . . aftershock.
“Not really nervous,” I said. “I just didn’t expect this many people.”
Chad and Logan’s Realtor, Mary, was here with her boyfriend, Larry. Mrs. Oleson and Mrs. Shrewsbury from the Ladies Auxiliary. I recognized a few of the younger interns from Maxwell Farm. And the woman from the farmers’ market whom I’d seen fanning herself with a leaf of romaine and making eyes at Leo. And one very tall guy with wavy black hair caught back in a leather tie, who was very tattooed, very loaded-for-bear in the muscles department, and looking very uncomfortable to be attending a jam-making class.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
“Which one?”
“Game of Thrones guy back there.” I pointed to tall, dark, and fuckhot.
Leo looked, then snorted. “Oh, he’ll love that. That’s Oscar, the dairy farmer next door.”
I pushed him out of the way and took another look. He was so tall he’d just bumped his head on the Drink Local Beer sign that hung over the front door.
“That’s Oscar?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yep,” he nodded.
“The dairy farmer?”
“Yep.”
I shook my head, watching as the young girls, no doubt lured by Leo, were now giggling stupid in the presence of Oscar. “Fuck me, the other men in this town don’t stand a chance.”
“Pardon?” Leo asked.
“Forget it.” I pushed the door open into the diner. What the hell had they started putting in the water since I’d moved away?
After welcoming everyone, I hurried about, setting up everything they’d need to make jam. Since there were way more people than planned stations, I paired everyone up two by two like a jam-making Noah. Except for Oscar. He’d been drafted onto Chad and Logan’s team, and looked relived to be there.
Once everything was ready, I got their attention. “Hi, everyone, thanks again for coming tonight. We’re making jam!” God, I loved teaching!
“Do we get to drink beforehand?” Chad asked Logan with a giggle.
I fought back a grin. “As you can see, I wasn’t expecting so many of you, so you’ll be sharing jars. Next time we’ll have more. You’ll find everything you need in front of you: jar, funnel, pectin, sugar, and lemon juice. I’ve already washed the fruit, boiled the jars, rings, and lids, so you get to do all the fun stuff. For the fruit portion of tonight’s activities, you have a choice of delicious fresh berries courtesy of this guy here and Maxwell Farm. There are blackberries, boysenberries, raspberries, and even a few gooseberries.”
As if on cue, Leo put his arm around me and popped a gooseberry into my mouth.
Oh. Public Display of Affection—our secret was out!
The truth is, no one cared except for the mooning interns, who quickly shifted their attention to Oscar’s direction. As I realized the town wasn’t going to implode just because I’d come home and was getting it put to me good by Leo Maxwell, I realized that there were some nice advantages to living in a small town after all.
My smile filled my face. “Okay, everyone come choose your fruit!”
“Maybe jam wasn’t such a good idea,” I said, washing off the countertops one last time. The blueberry syrup had gone everywhere, and the class stayed to help clean up—stacking pots, hanging spoons on their racks, and setting measuring cups back in their places.
“Are you kidding? This was the most fun I had in ages,” Logan said, affectionately blotting the blackberry juice on Chad’s Key Lime Pie polo shirt. I’d love to see the lineup of J. Crew polos in his summer closet.