18. Brenna
18
brENNA
Things I think I could get used to—spending Saturday morning wandering through the Hickory Hills Farmers’ Market hand in hand with Milo.
There’s something about the way he laces his fingers through mine, our joined hands swaying gently back and forth as we stroll down the aisles in the field beside the library. A security and peace of mind that comes with knowing that he’s here next to me.
The same joy that has settled in me each time we’ve gone out since he said “fuck it” that night on the couch. I’ve lost count of what number date we’re on, our time together less about actual “dates” now and more about enjoying each other’s company. Having never been on a second date almost seems like a distant memory.
Almost.
The sights and sounds of the market weave around us, a myriad of stalls, booths, and tents with brightly colored goods crammed into the small field. Judging by the look of things, the market is going to outgrow this spot soon enough .
Something I can’t help but love.
It’s nice to see my hometown flourishing. It’s moments like this that make me realize how much I’ve missed it here, and that maybe taking Mr. Hovland up on his offer might be the way to go.
“Heads!”
I hear the warning with barely enough time to react, turning toward the recognizable voice. My brain spirals, trying to focus on the object hurtling at me, my reflexes kicking in, arms flying up to protect my face as I duck.
A loud whack fills the air, stealing my focus as I realize I’m not hit. And that Milo caught the offending object. A peach.
“Jackass…” he mutters.
I look up, dropping my arms and trying to resume a normal, relaxed position, as if I didn’t just try to stop, drop, and roll in the middle of a crowded farmers’ market. The devious snickering coming from the same direction as the peach clues me in on exactly who the offender is.
Anton.
“Nice reflexes, Brenna,” he comments.
“Thanks?”
My response is awkward, coming out as more of a question than anything else. But what exactly do you say when you’re complimented after being assaulted by flying fruit?
One hand on my hip, holding on tight, Milo looks me up and down, appraising me. His blue eyes feel good as they roam my body, leaving a trail of heat behind. Once he’s examined me, he loosens his grip slightly, but doesn’t let go, tucking a wisp of hair behind my ear with the hand still holding the offending fruit.
“You okay?” he whispers.
“Fine.”
“I’ll kick his ass if you want me to. ”
I chuckle. “I’m fine.”
“I’m serious. Right here, right now. Pretty sure no one would stop me.”
“Really, I’m good.”
He nods, then presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. My insides light up like a pinball machine, that brief touch sending me soaring.
“If you change your mind…”
“I’ll let you know.”
“We’re keeping this,” Milo says, holding up the peach, flicking his wrist like he’s going to chuck it right back at his brother.
“That’ll be $3.50.”
Arching an eyebrow, Milo lands Anton with the definition of if looks could kill. Holy shit, I thought that was a Willa Hayes special. Apparently she learned it from Milo.
“Shoulda thought about that before you threw it at us.”
Sliding his arm around my waist, Milo tugs me into him, squeezing my side. Butterflies flutter across my chest, the pinball machine resetting for the next round, and I fight back the giggle rising in me like champagne. Instead, I opt to mimic his move, wrapping my arm around him, snuggling into him. The summer sun is already high in the sky, the heat and humidity taking no prisoners, but the pull I feel into Milo is too strong to let go.
Anton shrugs. “I tried.”
I take the peach from Milo, examining it. The soft pink flesh is the perfect shade, and already fragrant. We must be having a good season.
“This is a good-looking peach,” I say, slipping it into the cloth shopping bag I brought along.
Not skipping a beat, Anton winks, clicking his tongue and slapping his ass. “That’s what all the girls say.”
Walked right into that one …
“Pretty sure what they say is that you have a big peach,” Milo counters.
“No, that’s what they say about my cucumber.”
“I dunno,” I reply, stepping away from Milo and reaching for one of the veggies in the basket on the table. “This looks pretty stubby to me.”
I hold it up by the tip, rotating it, pursing my lips to the side, trying to show off how unimpressed I am. Anton scoffs, like he can’t believe I went there. Milo throws his head back laughing, and all of a sudden, I realize what shirt he’s wearing.
How I missed it earlier, I have no idea. The simple black tee looks like many of his others, with a colorful graphic printed on the front. This one is complete with a wooden crate full of veggies, a large eggplant and tomato prominently displayed, the words “Thirst Trap Farms Farmers’ Market—Large and Local” framing the image.
Only Milo.
“Dude, you gonna let your girl talk to me like that?” Anton asks.
“Absolutely,” Milo says in between laughter, pulling me into him again, stealing a quick kiss.
His girl…
I like that. Almost as much as I like the kiss. It might only have lasted three seconds, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he didn’t stop to think about it. He just did it. Like it was part of his everyday routine to kiss me like that in front of his brother. In public.
That’s something else I could get used to.
“Girth, not length, darlin’,” Anton defends, snatching the cucumber from me, highlighting the thickness of the phallic-looking vegetable, and no doubt drawing some looks from those around us.
“Your girth is ninety-six percent water. I’m not sure that’s helping your argument,” Milo snarks, and it takes everything in me not to lose it.
Standing here, listening to the two of them going back and forth, gives me the kind of warm fuzzies that Saturday mornings are supposed to have. The easygoing, lackadaisical, almost whimsical feeling that you daydream about.
“Look who’s talking.”
Milo shrugs. “I’ve never received any complaints.”
“Brenna,” Anton says, looking to me.
I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to contribute to this conversation. I’ve never actually seen the err… cucumber …in question. There’s little doubt in my mind that I’d be impressed. I felt it pressed against me when we were in Silver Lake on the Fourth of July. I’ve also brushed against it a time or two while we’ve cuddled on the couch. And from what I can tell, the large and local on Milo’s shirt is probably pretty accurate.
Not that I would ever advertise that to his brother. Or anyone.
“No comment,” I reply, trying to play it as coy as possible.
“That’s my girl.” Milo presses another kiss to my temple, and I swear, the air temperature rises another ten degrees.
“Go away.” Anton shoos us off. “You’re scaring away the customers.”
“Gladly, we’ve got things to do,” Milo responds, grabbing another peach from a bucket, then tossing it in the air and catching it as he takes my hand and leads me away.
I look up at him, surprised, since I was unaware there was a to-do list. Again, no complaints. Spending time with Milo is my new favorite thing. Easily the best thing I’ve done all summer. Whether we’ve gone out to grab a bite, or stayed in to watch TV, or even him keeping me company while I study, being with him is fun. Easy. And frankly, how I want to occupy every extra minute .
That all said, today’s original plan was town movie night this evening. At least until last night when Milo threw out the idea of breakfast at Dolly’s this morning before he had to open up Pour Decisions. When he suggested a stroll through the farmers’ market as we were finishing up, I didn’t think anything of it, other than being thankful for the chance to spend more time with him. Although now that I realize what shirt he’s wearing, I can’t help but wonder if this was his plan all along. Also, it makes me curious as to what else he has up his sleeve.
“Like?” Anton calls after us.
“Like not doing your job for you!”
I giggle, nudging Milo with my shoulder as we walk. He shrugs, giving me a smirk that says I’m not wrong . And he’s not.
“Question,” I say, pulling away just enough to slide my hand back into his. Where it belongs.
“Answer.”
“Why doesn’t Southern Brothers have a booth? I mean, I know you’re sold in stores, but you could do something here too. Maybe by the bottle? Or different sizes? Seems like such a missed opportunity.”
Milo squeezes my hands, interlacing our fingers again. “Okay, Bronwyn…”
“Sore subject?”
He shakes his head. “No. Truth be told, we planned to have one this summer. Bronwyn worked up this whole plan and everything, but then with Brandt going to Colorado, we didn’t really have the manpower to add that in.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” A pang of guilt slices through me. No, not guilt. It’s not like it’s my fault they cut this out of their plan. But still, I could have helped. I promised to contribute to Southern Brothers as part of living rent free in the loft, and I haven’t been doing much to hold up my end of the bargain. “I could have handled it for you!”
Milo’s devilish smirk tugs at the corner of his lip, his blue eyes sparkling, as he steps into me. His hands land on my hips, gripping tight, making my breath catch in my chest. For a split second, the whole world falls away, and it’s just us in the middle of the crowded market.
“I love that that’s where your mind went. But it wouldn’t have been fair to ask that of you. You have other priorities. Like making sure you pass your boards. Your brain is a lot more important than my brewery.”
Your brain is a lot more important than my brewery…
Well, fuck. I didn’t think I’d ever been turned on by someone complimenting my brain, but here we are. I step in closer to him, the urge to kiss him racing through me. I have no idea what we are—the lines of our friendship have been firmly smudged these last few weeks. What I do know is that I like where it’s headed. Or at least where I think it’s headed.
Like right now. With his lips headed toward mine.
“A beautiful flower, for a beautiful lady.”
Or not…
I smile, taking the bright pink bloom, doing my best to hide both being startled and my minor embarrassment at the more than generous statement from the owner of the town nursery. Looking to my left, I notice that we stopped right in front of their booth at the edge of the market. Twice the size of most of the others, the Keller Nursery tent is overflowing with stunning bouquets, small potted plants, and a few trees.
“Thanks, Mr. Keller.”
Looking as proud as ever, Jack Keller stands tall, smiling brightly as he leans back against the table, hands buried in his apron. “Auggie told us you graduated with honors from pharmacy school. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I say again, unable to stop my cheeks from heating up this time. “I’m just happy school’s done with.”
“I’m sure I’m only the hundredth person who’s asked, and no pressure, but…any idea what’s next?”
Before I can answer, Milo is pulling me back into him, same as he did while we were talking with Anton. However, this time it feels different. Before it was protective. Like he was putting himself between me and any more projectiles. Now it feels…possessive, yet casual. Like he’s staking his claim, but that it’s one that everyone already knows about and no one is about to challenge. And based on the look on Mr. Keller’s face, that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s not questioning this at all.
So I don’t either.
“I have a couple of possibilities. I actually heard from this company based out of Savannah that my advisor put me in touch with yesterday, so we’ll see what happens. Have to pass the boards first.”
Milo flinches slightly, but doesn’t say anything. A pang hits me, and this time I know it’s guilt. He’s asked about whether or not I’ve heard from The Well Nest a couple of times since I first mentioned them after graduation, so it would have made sense to say something after getting the email. All my mixed feelings about it, though, left me so unsure about what to say that saying nothing seemed to be the best option.
“You’ve got this! You’ve always been a smart cookie, understanding how it all came together. I remember when you were really little, couldn’t have been more than three or four, we had a shipment of manure delivered from the Russell horse farm to spread in the flower beds, and you asked in your cute little kid voice why we had all this horse poop.”
Mr. Keller starts to laugh, pausing to catch his breath. His pause gives me a moment to realize where he’s taking this, fear rising in me. Oh shit—literally. Please don’t let him tell this story. Not in front of Milo.
“And we explained that it helped fertilize. Well, you put two and two together really quick and went right out to where we had just planted the camellias, pulled down your drawers, and?—”
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Keller, but it’s getting late and Milo’s gotta go open the bar!” I shout, panic pouring out of me like water out of Niagara Falls.
I grab Milo’s hand, dragging him away from the Kellers’ booth, not giving his father’s best friend a chance to elaborate any more. I take back what I said about thinking that maybe staying in Hickory Hills is a good idea. Right now, getting as far away from the people who have known me since I was young enough to do embarrassing things like personally fertilize the camellias seems like a really great idea.
“Whoa there, killer,” Milo says, slowing us down as we reach the parking lot between the library and church. The lot is packed, half the town and then some having squeezed their cars in here, giving us the perfect place to hide while I ride out my horror. “There a bee in your bonnet?”
“Ha ha,” I sneer. “I can’t believe he went there.”
Milo chuckles, looping an arm around my waist and tugging me into him until my torso is flush with his. I relax into him, slipping my arms around his neck, choosing to focus on what he’s making me feel rather than what I was running from. Because goodness knows, nothing compares to this.
Absolutely nothing.
“I was actually there for that story, so I got to witness that firsthand.”
Uggggh …
“You’re not making this any better…”
Tightening his grip, he leans in, dipping his head so that his lips are so close to mine that his breath tickles my skin. He’s a whisper away, yet so far that I want to scream.
“That’s not even close to the worst story Jack Keller could tell. Pretty sure he’s got some about me that might make you reconsider even talking to me.”
Doubtful…
“Yeah, right…”
“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime. But for now…” he trails off, leaning in a little more. Everything in me screams for him to continue to lean in, to close the gap completely, to give me exactly what I want. “I think I’ll just do this.”
Firm but gentle lips press against mine, taking over the moment. I swoon, my knees wobbling as I return the kiss, wanting nothing more than to get lost in him. I savor the uniquely spicy taste that is Milo. The one that I know will linger on my tongue for the rest of the day, leaving me wanting more. Wanting him.
I try to deepen the kiss, but Milo pulls back. My heart stops, but only for a second as I realize why. His phone is ringing.
Milo looks down, sucking in a hard breath through his teeth. That can only mean one thing.
Brandt’s calling.
Nice timing, big brother…
“I’ll call him back.” Hitting the ignore button, Milo slides his phone back in his pocket. “Now, where were we?”
I smile, ready to answer his question with a kiss.
Until my phone rings.
I don’t even have to look at it to know. There is a part of me that wants to answer it with a snarky response about being second fiddle, but that would mean admitting to knowing that Milo ignored his call. Which probably isn’t the best idea.
I sigh, internally debating on answering it. Brandt doesn’t know that I’m not working this morning. It’d be easy enough to tell him I was and call him back later.
“Answer it. Tell him about the email you got,” Milo says, as if reading my mind. “I need to go open. I’ll see you tonight for movie night.”
I nod wordlessly, not knowing another way to respond. A quick, chaste kiss to the forehead, and I turn to go, answering the call to tell my brother all about the email I received about a potential job.
Meanwhile, all I can think of is one thing—movie night. With Milo.