Page 43 of The Burbs and the Bees
Fuck me.
Walk away, Jay. Get the hell out of Dodge.
I swallow. “Done here. Do you…ah, want me to check on the other spots?” I ask.
She turns to me, her eyes wide, dilated, and she wets her bottom lip, like she’s preparing it for my mouth. My gaze drops, and my control frays like the cuff on an old pair of worn coveralls.
“Alyson.”
“Yeah.”
“Your lips… Are they still sore?”
“Only a little.”
I dip into the salve and brush it across her bottom lip, then run my thumb over my own to taste the remnants of her. Unable to fight the pull, I move toward her, her breathy little whimper curling around me. Heat arcs between us, and I tug her closer, position her between my thighs. I’m seconds from kissing her, from making a huge mistake, when a loud boom sounds in the distance. I jerk back and glance out the window to see fireworks in the distance.
“Fucking Tyler.”
I take a fast breath, and with oxygen back in my brain, I realize Tyler interfering was for the best. Why, then, do I want to hunt him down and strangle him?
Chapter Nine
Alyson
By the time I peel my eyes open, the sun is blaring into my room. I jackknife up and glance at the clock. “Oh, crap.” I throw my covers off and jump up. I tossed and turned so much last night, my body a hot quivering mess after that near kiss, I slept right through Cluck’s rise-and-shine call. Poor Sidney must be bursting, and the market opens in less than thirty minutes. I have no idea how I’ll manage to get myself cleaned up, feed the animals, and get the market open on time.
Forgoing a shower, I climb back into Jay’s heavy clothes. I’m going to sweat to death in these things, but I won’t have a chance to get to Trader Tim’s before customers start coming. My plans for this morning had been to wake early, get my chores done, and be on Main Street at seven, standing on the sidewalk when the store opened. But now—thanks to that near kiss—I’ll have to shuffle around all day uncomfortable. Hey, maybe that was Jay’s plan all along— Make Alyson miserable to speed up her exit. Cripes, maybe he’s betting on how long I’ll be here, although he’s been kind and that doesn’t seem like something he’d do. Maybe he’s just anxious to see the farm in Bryce’s hands. Locals take care of locals, and no matter what, I’ll always be an outsider.
Even though he wants me gone, last night, he wanted something else. We both did. I’m not a girl to dive headfirst into things. Well, maybe that’s not true. I dove headfirst into running this farm and into nearly making out with the beekeeper next door. Must be something in the fresh country air making me act irrational. But getting involved with him is not in my best interest. I need to get my life in order, figure out my future before I lose everything, and the hot farmer next door is a distraction I can’t afford. It’s hard not knowing what I want or who I truly am, and with my family betting against me, well, that just cuts deeply. I’ve never really let them see that, but it’s not fun to feel worthless or to be treated like you’re a joke. A lot of people won’t, or can’t, see my worth. I’m trying so damn hard not to be one of them.
I’m about to rush outside when my phone rings. I pick it up and every muscle in my body tightens when I see it’s my father. I hesitate for a second. If I don’t answer, he’ll probably send someone to collect me.
I groan and slide my finger across the screen as I head downstairs. In my happiest voice, I say, “Good morning, Dad.”
A pause and then, “I wasn’t sure you’d be up this early.”
Why the heck did he call if he didn’t think I’d be up… Oh, because he’s checking up on you, Alyson.
My teeth clench, but really, can I blame him for his assumptions? Eight o’clock might be considered sleeping in here, but back home, yeah, I’d probably still be in bed. “I’m up. Lots to do on a farm,” I say.
“Is that right?” The skepticism in his voice crawls over my skin like a million angry fire ants.
“That’s right,” I say, and he goes quiet as I list off my daily chores. When I finally finish, a big, bored sigh reaches my ears. I clench my fist. I will not let his lack of faith in me steal my thunder. I got this! “Why are you calling?”
“I hadn’t heard from you.”
“I called Mom.”
“Yes, well, I wanted to hear how you were firsthand.”
Of course he did.
“I’m good, Dad. Great.”
“Right, of course you are,” he says, his voice dripping with disbelief. A door opens and closes in the background, and his muffled voice comes through as he speaks to someone. I shift from one foot to the other as I wait, anxiousness welling up inside me. I need to get outside and tend to my animals. “Sorry about that,” he says when he returns.
“I’d love to talk, but I have animals to take care of.”
