Page 56 of The Burbs and the Bees
“And this,” I say, waving my arm around the orchard, “this is something you thought you could stick to?”
“No,” she says flatly, and while I need her to fail, I hate the sadness in her eyes. “I just have something to prove.” She gives a half-hearted laugh to cover the frustration in her eyes.
“To who?”
“To the people who have no faith in me. The world is cruel to those who don’t know their way,” she says, and something tells me she’s lumping herself in with that group of individuals. “It’s so hard to see the disappointment over and over again, but I know I’m a joke, that you all must think I was dropped on my head as a child.”
I swallow, my heart pounding a bit harder. “No one thinks that,” I counter, even though it might not be entirely true. Not too many people think she belongs, and obviously, she thinks running the farm will prove something to someone. But if she fails, or rather, when she fails, it’s going to come at a steep price for her. I mentally kick my ass for taking the stupid bet in the first place. If I could go back in time…
She nods, like she doesn’t believe that for a minute, and as we make our way to the pasture to collect Sidney, a strange sense of loss takes up residence in my gut. The sweet little socialite who’s in over her head is growing on me—and likely a few members of this township. I turn to her, take in the dark smudges around her eyes. Shit, I want her to succeed at this farming gig—even though I need her to fail.
“Why did Colin say you were all work and no play?” she asks, redirecting.
“I have a lot to do,” I say.
She nods in understanding. “You do have a lot of responsibilities.”
“You do, too.”
“Yeah,” she says, her shoulders drooping. “I can’t believe last week I was in New York with no focus, and now I’m running a farm.” She frowns and adds, “I’m exhausted. I don’t know what I’m going to do when t
he real work starts at harvest time.” I open my mouth, maybe to even reassure her she won’t be here for it, but she cuts me off and continues, “Did Tyler tell you a little boy around two got into the bag of soldier beans and put one up his nose?”
“He didn’t, but that doesn’t surprise me. I have two younger brothers who got into a lot of shit over the years. I had to hide my pennies because of a nose incident.”
She laughs. “It must be a boy thing,” she says. “No way would I have ever done anything so crazy.”
“The kid’s okay?”
“Yes, but you can’t take your eyes off them for a second. I’m a wreck most of the day, worried someone is going to get hurt.”
“They’re resilient. Don’t worry so much.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “How do people do it? Kids, I mean.”
“It’s different when you have your own. Someday, you’ll see.”
She chokes on a laugh. “I can barely keep myself alive, Jay. My life is too messed up to bring a child into it. Did you know the other day I tried to use the tractor and nearly ran over Breakfast? Or maybe it was Lunch. I can’t tell those two piglets apart.” She crinkles her nose at me. “I don’t think I can send them off to the ‘farm’ come fall.”
Everything inside me softens, as she grows on me just a little bit more. “I’ll teach you to use the tractor tomorrow.”
“I don’t like to put people out,” she says.
“Good thing I like to put out,” I say with a wink, hoping to lighten things, but it doesn’t. Nope, it doesn’t lighten things at all. It just moves things in a different direction—a sexual one. Tension takes up space between us, so hot and volatile, it could burn down the orchard after a torrential rainstorm.
“Come on, let’s finish up.” We get all the animals secure, and with Alyson looking a little wobbly in her heels, I say, “Hop on. I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”
“You can’t be serious,” she says, her voice lightening with laughter.
“Unless you want to ruin your shoes. Which are ridiculous for a farm. Have we not been over this?”
She sticks her foot out to examine her heels. “I like these shoes and wasn’t planning on wearing them for farming. They were for helping Colin.”
“Which he really appreciates, and it’s something you’re good at; now hop on.”
Chuckling—and I like when she’s happy—she makes a run for me and jumps on my back, and the second she wraps her legs around my body, I realize I’ve made a huge mistake. I clear my throat, and her arms go around my body to hold on as I carry her inside. We reach her kitchen island, and I turn to deposit her on it. She slowly untangles her arms and legs, and I spin to face her, catch the desire reflecting in her eyes. Her sweet scent fills my senses, and as I breathe her in, more blood leaves my brain.
“Alyson,” I murmur.
