Chapter Fifteen Madison
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Madison
“Okay, I’m here,” I say, arms wrapped around myself and squinting against the soft golden rays of sun. Sleep still clings to the corners of my eyes.
Meanwhile, James looks like he’s already lived a full day and it’s only six A.M. He’s in his brown work boots, faded jeans, and hunter-green Huxley Farm logo T-shirt. As he closes his truck bed and turns to me, I catch his smile beneath his hat’s shadow. “Morning, Chef. Ready to go?”
My first answer is a yawn, followed by a question. “Go where?”
“You’re making deliveries with me today.”
“Really?” I say, only now registering the rows of stacked crates in the back of his truck. “You’re actually taking me up on my offer to help?”
“I told you I was.”
“Yeah,” I agree, skepticism in my voice. “But I assumed this would end up being some sort of ploy to take me to a cute bakery or something to get my creative juices flowing.”
“No bakery. But we can stop at the gas station on the way and get a sleeve of donuts if that helps?”
I consider this. “So I’m really coming along today to help you?”
“Yep.”
There’s a catch somewhere, I’m sure of it. James would never accept help this easily.
He hitches his head toward the truck. “Come on. I’ve got you a thermos of coffee in there too.”
I eye him, head turning slowly like an owl to keep track of his suspicious body. “Thoughtful of you.”
Really though, I’m still not used to this side of James. The one who views me as a friend. Who doesn’t look at me like I’m in his way. This James thought of me first thing in the morning and filled a thermos with coffee just for me.
Once we’re both in his truck and bobbing down the long drive that winds from the main greenhouse to the road, I take a sip of the coffee and nearly spit it out all over the dashboard.
“Hot?” he asks.
“No—disgusting,” I blurt, dabbing my mouth with the back of my hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so appreciative you brought me some caffeine . . . but can I ask why you brewed battery acid instead of coffee?”
He groans. “Not you too.”
“Who else hates it? Wait! Let me guess—everyone?”
“Tommy.”
“Oh well, that doesn’t surprise me. He has good taste.”
“Does he, though? Questionable.” James drapes his hand over the steering wheel and once again I’m having to stuff down this rising tide of attraction.
Just look at his wrist. If I wrapped my hand around it, my fingers wouldn’t meet.
And those hands—his calluses have calluses.
But when my eyes slide up his arm to his face once again, I catch a wince.
“What was that for?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s . . . nothing.”
“Tell me now or I’ll scream.”
He laughs, a big, surprised laugh, and I light up from the inside. James thinks I’m funny. “I realized the other day that I only think of Tommy with negativity.”
“Oh yeah. You absolutely do that.”
“Nice, don’t hold back.” He adjusts in his seat like he wants to get rid of the uncomfortable thought he’s sitting with.
“When you look at Tommy, you look like you’d rather be eating a toad than talking to him.”
“Well . . .”
“Men enjoy their urology appointments more than you enjoy spending time with Tommy. You—”
“I get it,” he says dryly. “And you’re not wrong.”
“Why though? Just because y’all are different? Because Tommy likes to run around with hotties and you like to shuck your own corn?”
He grimaces. “I’m going to hope that wasn’t a euphemism.”
“Don’t worry—it was.”
“Okay, well, that’s definitely not the reason. But . . .” His face skews up. “Actually, maybe a little of it. The . . . run around with hotties part.”
For some reason, my heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean. It shouldn’t. That’s an absurd response. He is a heterosexual male—of course he’s going to wish he was running around with beautiful women! It would be abnormal if he didn’t. But . . .
No.
No buts.
I’m choosing to release this thought into the wind, because James and I work together, and we are friends—and that’s all we’ll ever be.
Any day now, this attraction will fizzle out. The flames will be doused, and I’ll stop wondering what it would feel like to hear him whisper my name in the dark, under covers and skin to skin.
It has to fade.
Because James is the kind of man who builds things. He plants roots. He wakes up at sunrise and embraces responsibility.
And me? I’ve run from every life I’ve tried to build. I burn bright—but I burn out just as fast.
What could someone like him ever see in someone like me, besides a temporary spark?
I pull myself up straight. “I’m sure we can find a cutie around here for you to hook up with. You might have to go a little farther into the city, but—”
He looks horrified. “Shit, Madison. No. First, don’t say cutie. That’s weird. Second, I should’ve been more clear. It’s not that I want his life—it’s that . . . I think I’ve always resented him for having the option to live it.”
Relief softens my chest as I sink back against the seat. “You never had that option?”
“No. I’ve always been the heir to the farm,” he says with a dry, almost amused tone.
“Ever since I asked for a John Deere tractor for my third birthday and my parents took it as an early vow of devotion.” He chuckles, but it’s laced with something heavier.
“I’ve been all-in ever since. But Tommy?
He never wanted anything to do with the farm—and no one expected him to either.
My parents always knew he’d fly the coop and go places.
“Sometimes I wonder if I really love this place because it’s in my blood . . . or because I’ve always been told it is.”
The look on his face wrecks me. Brow furrowed, shoulders slumped—it’s like he’s carrying the weight of the world over there.
And if I could peek into his brain, I’d bet everything I own and love that the heaviness he’s experiencing isn’t due to being stuck with the farm.
It’s about admitting he wishes he’d had a choice.
Only James would feel guilty for wanting a say in his own life.
I want to wrap my arm around his and squeeze. “Do you . . . regret staying in Rome?”
“That’s where it gets complicated. I really do love the farm now. I love the work I do. But at the same time, I resent Tommy and his freedom. I resent that I love this place so much that I can’t just leave it behind and start fresh. You know?”
“I do. I think those feelings are completely valid. And you’re allowed to have them.”
He nods, eyes on the road, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. “But I don’t think it’s fair of me to keep taking it out on Tommy. He’s a shithead a lot of the time, but maybe . . . I don’t know.”
I tilt my head, reading the thoughts he’s not voicing. “Maybe you two could be friends anyway?”
“We’ll see.” He glances over at me, expression lighter, then back at the road. “What about you? Are you going to miss the life of big city freedom and casual hookups with hotties?”
“Not a bit,” I say, and it’s the complete truth. “I’m celibate now, if you remember.”
“I do. But you never told me why.” He cuts his eyes to me. “Is it a permanent thing?”
“I hope not,” I say with a breathy laugh while pulling my feet up in the seat to wrap my arms around my bare knees. “To be honest, I’ve been using it as a weeding system.”
“Tell me more.”
It’s funny I feel so comfortable sharing all of this with him. I’ve never even told my siblings. Not sure if I will either. I don’t need anyone’s opinion or to see their approving or disapproving faces. This choice was made for me and me alone.
In the past, James would have also fallen into the category of people I would keep it from.
But oddly, not anymore. “Okay . . . how do I put this? I don’t regret a single moment of my life or how I’ve chosen to live it so far.
It’s been fun. And I’ve truly enjoyed it.
But while I was in New York, I realized I want something different out of life going forward.
I want more.” I pause, thinking back on some of those really dark months.
Thinking back to Caden and how I hoped he would be someone who would care for me in my hurt, but instead he added to it.
“I was so lonely out there, and I needed more companionship than just sex, but most of the guys lost interest in me if sex wasn’t involved.
” Caden in particular. “So now I’m choosing celibacy until I find a guy who makes me feel important and safe.
Who wants to hang out with me even if we’re not having sex.
Nothing serious or anything. Oh! But I do think it would be nice to have someone who’s not sleeping with anyone else on the side either. ”
These all seem like reasonable requests to me until I look at James and see a smile quivering on his lips.
My shoulders sag. “Seriously? This again. Are you going to wreck the truck from laughing so hard at my silly little fantasy?”
“Not at all. And it’s not a silly fantasy. I’m laughing because, Madison . . .” He breathes against his laugh. “That’s monogamy. What you’re describing is literally a committed long-term relationship.”
Shock snaps my spine straight. “Noooo.” I shake my head like he suggested I’m craving cocaine.
“I specifically said nothing serious. Just someone who . . .” I search for the words.
“Gets invested in a seven-season TV show with me. Someone who I won’t need to pluck that one annoying nipple hair for. You know? Chill stuff.”
His lips press together, and he side-eyes me meaningfully until my list settles into place and does look a lot like a committed relationship.
“Shit. You’re right.” My zombie gaze shifts out the front windshield. I let this new knowledge sink in for a minute and then, “This is terrible news.”
“Why?” James thinks this is one big amusing joke.
“Because!” I shift in my seat, angling more toward him.
“I always planned to be the hot, whimsical, unattached aunt, who, on a Tuesday, might fly off to Paris and have a forty-eight-hour fling with a guy who owns a moped. When did I become this boring old person who wants stability?! I hate it.” The moment I say the word stability, awareness prickles over my skin.
Could this be the reason I’ve found James so damn hot lately?
And does that make my attraction to him carry more or less weight?
“I’m sorry I burst your bubble,” he says in a commiserating tone. “Want to go back to pretending you don’t want anything serious?”
“Too late. Cat’s out of the bag. Madison is a snooze.”
His grin does funny things to my insides. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s physically possible for you to be a—” But he cuts off when he looks at me again, all the humor leaving his face as his eyes drop to my waist. “You’re not wearing your seatbelt.”
I wave him off. “Who cares. I’ve lost my will to live.”
“Not funny.” His tone is so serious chills erupt down my arms. “Put it on.”
“No.” I’m sunk back in a grand show of despair, even though his bossiness turns me on a little—like it did when he commanded me not to date Tommy. “Just let me live on the wild side one last time.”
“You’re—” He lets out a frustrating laugh and then pulls over to the side of the road.
He throws the truck in park and then stares in my eyes for two wildly hot seconds before suddenly coming in close to me, so close I can smell his soap.
I note the absence of any cigarette smoke.
And then he’s reaching for my seatbelt, tugging it around my chest and clicking the buckle firmly into place.
But he doesn’t move away as soon as his job is done.
His voice is a soft caress as he says, “You could try your whole life—really give it your best shot, and you still would never come close to anything but extraordinary. Boring is your antonym.” He gives the belt a little safety tug. “Find another way to live on the wild side.”
I can’t think of a single thing to say as he leans back into his own seat, puts the truck in drive, and we rumble down the road once again. But I can feel the seatbelt burning with importance against my chest now.