Page 10 of A Bittersweet Summer

I use the opportunity to curse—colorfully and under my breath, with brows furrowed and my scowl so deep I begin to think I’ll get tan lines, or at the very least, premature wrinkles.

“Coming back tomorrow?” Wes questions, and I fix my face as soon as I realize he’s looking at me again.

While the last thirty minutes have left a lot to be desired, Ilikethe place.

I can imagine what it will look like when evening comes, and the sky is painted in vibrant color. Pink and purple will bleed behind the willow tree sleeping next to the pond. If I stay here, I will get the house at the end of the drive. My backyard will be set by this very same backdrop, and I might have the opportunity tosee such a sunset away from the scent of stale alcohol and overly forward patrons.

Out here, it’s so easy to think—so easy to lose myself in every task, and stop worrying so much about the things I can’t control.

I’m locked in—committed in a way Chad never could have been.

When I reach the gate, I pause, my smile beaming across the yard to where Wes stands waiting for a response.

There really is no other answer. If chasing a goose and falling in the mud is alright with him, I would certainly like to stay here, for as long as possible.

“Absolutely,” I answer. “I will grab my paperwork from the office and be back bright and early.”

“I’m never going back.”

I groan, realizing it was a terrible idea to starfish myself on Lennon’s plush area rug. The vintage cushion of a carpet smells like amber and fresh jasmine. I close my eyes, melting into the faded maroon pattern and wondering if anyone can see how pitiful I look.

My muscles feel like jello, and my exhaustion is so deep, I’m certain it’s started eating away at my marrow. The pink-stained cheeks I saw in the mirror when I got here weren’t so bad, but no matter what I do to my hair, it still looks like I’ve been electrocuted. Not to mention, I keep finding small pieces of alfalfa woven in the strands.

I’m still not even sure how that happened. Hay is like glitter—there’s no telling where you’ll find it, even months later.

Farm work is not for the faint of heart, that’s for certain.

“You’re getting mud on my brand new carpet,” Lennon complains as I open my eyes to see her carrying a woodencutting board into the living room. When she sets it down on the coffee table, she sweeps her very not electrically charged red hair over one shoulder, peaking at the ends until she curls herself on the end of the couch.

Ellis sits up from her spot curled on the couch. “You’re becoming quite the host!” she says with excitement, eyes fixed on the charcuterie board that has been so carefully prepared for us.

I need salt—electrolytes and calories. I need—

“Can you hand me one of those rosemary crackers with a piece of something with protein?” I eye the spread that’s now taunting me from the coffee table. “I can’t get up.”

Lennon rolls her eyes. “You want me to feed it to you, too?”

I groan, but Ellis comes through, handing me a carefully crafted cracker and salami sandwich. “And as for getting mud on this carpet,” I say, slowly sitting up, “it is not new, and we all know how much you love thrifting. Consider this a piece of the carpet’s history.”

“Minor details,” Lennon retorts, waving me off.

My muscles scream at me when I twist to grab a piece of smoked cheese, but my pain is no match for the hunger gnawing at my stomach. I scarf down a third item without clocking what I even ate.

“I thought you said you liked the job,” Ellis starts. Her oversized band-tee has no less than three holes around the front, clearly stolen from her boyfriend, Griffin’s never-ending supply. “Something about sunshine and horses and peace. It was quite poetic.”

Covering my mouth, I chew faster, as if I can go so fast, I’ll start receiving the calories via osmosis. “I do,” I answer around another bite. “I’m just so sore and tired. I’m sure I’ll build up the muscle, but for now, let me wallow.”

“You’re going to be so hot by the end of the summer,” Lennon adds to the conversation. “I won’t be seen with you once you’re ripped. I have to keep hold of my ego.”

“I’ll still hang out with you,” Ellis supplies. “But I will feel inferior in every way possible.” She sits further back on the leather couch. “I think I should start working out. That, or I can continue to avoid dress shopping until Griffin, and I give up and elope.”

“You are not eloping,” Lennon demands, her tone threatening. “Not unless you take me with you. I could use a vacation.”

“I really can’t take a vacation right now since Ijustgot this job. Maybe we could hold off on the elopement?” I chuckle before gesturing to the cozy living room. “Getting nervous for the grand opening?” I question, turning my focus to Lennon.

After buying an old farmhouse last autumn, she’s been working tirelessly to make the place into the bed and breakfast of her dreams. The dream-chasing thing happened to inspire me to quit bartending. There’s no way I would have stuck that out forever.

“I mean, yeah,” Lennon admits. “That’s not the point, though. I absolutelymustbe there for your wedding, Ellis. Nothing will pain me more.”