Page 69 of The Burbs and the Bees
His head dips, and a second later, his lips are on mine. I part for him, welcome the tangle of his tongue as he steps closer, slides a strong arm around my waist to drag me to him. His kiss is hungry, hard, a promise of things to come, and as my body reacts, my brain reminds me this is just sex. A noise sounds at the door, and we both jump back.
“Hey, Jay,” Ty says, dashing inside and skidding to a halt when he finds us in the living room. “There are only enough potatoes in cold storage to make a few more bags.”
Jay clears his throat. “The ones in our garden are ready. I’ll pick them later.”
Tyler’s gaze goes back and forth between the two of us, and his smirk is slow, all-knowing when he asks, “Was I interrupting something?”
“Yeah, my peace and quiet,” Jay says.
“It’s fine, Tyler. We were just finishing up. Since you were so kind to work the market today, I’ll pick those potatoes.”
Jay glances at me. “Have you ever—”
“Of course not. But I can learn,” I say.
“Right, Google,” he teases.
“I’d better go get that shower.” With Tyler still grinning at us, I turn to leave.
“Make sure you pack a bag,” Jay reminds me.
“Right, I forgot,” I lie. Better that than for Jay to know how I haven’t stopped thinking about my upcoming sleeping arrangements.
“Let’s go,” Jay says to his brother as I bolt upstairs. I didn’t buy a lot of clothes in town, just enough to get me by, and if I keep ruining them, I’ll soon be running around in my underwear. I shower again, toss my clothes into a bag, and tug on a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt, and my work boots. The look is not attractive.
I check for signs of Cluck as I cut through the path leading to Jay’s place. The damn rooster still hasn’t warmed up to me, and I think he’s pissed I disturbed all the bees. Wait, what am I saying? Roosters don’t have emotional intelligence, right? Heck, maybe they do? I’ll have to Google that later, and if that’s the case, I’m going total vegetarian.
The late afternoon sun shines down on me, and despite my earlier predicament, the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees overhead warms my soul. You certainly don’t hear any singsong birds like this back in New York, and when I leave here, I’m really going to miss the sound.
When I leave here?
Hmm, maybe I don’t have to. Maybe I can make a real go of this farm, for more than the thirty days I promised my family I’d stay here. Every day, I learn something new, and I have a million calls to make and deals to oversee, selling my apples to the local grocery stores and juice plants. I’m sort of having fun—well, save for the skunk, and harvesting will be a nightmare; I’m sure of it. My nails will never be what they were before, but there is something so damn satisfying in a hard day’s work, followed by a good night’s sleep—or an even better night with Jay in my bed.
Am I really thinking about staying on longer?
That would secure my trust fund, but if I did stay, think about how I could invest in my orchard, this community, sustainable farming with the money coming to me. Cluck comes running at me, and I hurry my steps to Jay’s place. I step inside, breathless, and Cluck stops at the door. He must not be allowed inside.
“Clucky’s a douche.”
I spin at that and laugh as Capone struts around his massive cage. “You need to clean up your language,” I say and point to him.
“Alyson’s hot stuff.”
“Well, that’s better.”
“Capone,” Jay warns as he comes down the stairs. I grin at him.
“It’s okay, and that bird needs a friend.” I stare at his chest and admire his hardness as he tugs on a T-shirt. “This is a really nice place, Jay.”
“My brothers and I fixed it up when Juanita…”
His voice trails off.
“Mom’s a peach,” Capone says, and Jay frowns.
“He’s too smart for his own good.”
Sensing Juanita is someone he doesn’t want to talk about, and perhaps the person who once owned that ring I saw in his nightstand, I say, “Do you have extra Benadryl, just in case?”
