Lettuce Turnip the Beet

Chapter 1

PUMPKIN SPICE SHOULD BE A LOVE LANGUAGE

ABBY

Lowering my phone from the selfie position, I tap the red recording button to end the video and click Publish, then slip my phone in the back pocket of my high waisted denim jeans.

Glancing around the market today, it’s thriving, and I love seeing that.

There are so many small businesses and local farmers that spend so much time unloading their products or produce out of their trucks, setting everything up for just a few hours of sellable time.

But for some, it’s the only way they get in-person exposure to sell their items.

“Abby!” Sarah, from one of the vendor stands, is power walking toward me with a beaming smile.

“Hey, how are you?” I respond with a smile and a wave. But she doesn’t stop and barrels straight into me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Well, it’s nice to see you, too.” I can’t help but giggle.

“The post you made about my handmade soaps last week. I sold out, Abby. Completely sold out! I’m working double time trying to keep up with the demand. I’ve never been busier, more stressed, or happier. Thank you!” She pulls me in for another tight hug.

Moments like these are exactly why I spend so much time doing this.

“I’m so happy for you! You deserve it; your hand soaps are truly the best!” I reply, genuinely excited for her.

“I gotta get back to my station but I’m making you a basket, and I’ll drop it off to you next week. Thank you so much, Abby”—she gives me a grateful look—“really.”

She gives me one final squeeze then releases me before running back to her booth.

I can’t help but smile at her excitement and how much my little post helped her so tremendously.

I’m just a couple weeks shy of the one year anniversary of my BayAreaAbby Social Share account, which has somehow blown up into something so unbelievable, I can hardly believe it myself some days.

Leaving my corporate job wasn’t the smartest decision I had ever made but with the inheritance my parents left me, coupled with the massive burn out that was challenging my mental health, I decided to quit on January 1st and haven’t looked back since.

With this change, I’ve been able to focus on some volunteer work and most importantly supporting the local small businesses.

It wasn’t lucrative in the beginning, something to just fill my heart, but after a few viral videos and a couple paid sponsors—for companies I actually love to promote—now it gets me by.

Silicon Valley is a hard place for smaller companies to thrive and an even more difficult place to connect with people. With the sheer population you’d think it would be easy to meet people, connect, and socialize, but I’ve found the bigger the city, the weaker the community.

My Social Share page helps me feel whole with that missing piece.

Maybe I’m just trying to fill a void. Either way, it makes me happy.

“Abby,” another familiar voice calls my name but this one makes me cringe. On instinct, I drop and duck behind a random booth table to hide without looking in that direction.

Shit.

Why did I just do that? He called my name, he clearly saw me. My eyes scan the ground and I catch a glimmer of something shiny.

“I hope you dropped something and you’re not actually trying to hide.”

“Ah, ha!” Jumping up with a penny pinched between my thumb and pointer finger, I say, “found it.”

Sam’s brows squeeze together “You dropped to the ground like there was a grenade thrown at you, for a penny?”

“Every little bit counts, right?” I place the penny in my pocket and dodge his gaze, as I attempt to organize the produce on a table I don’t even work at.

Whose table is this anyway?

“I miss you, Abby. Please stop avoiding me.” He reaches over the table and grabs my hand. There was so little intimacy in our relationship that I would crave him to touch me, so much that I would melt into him when he would. Now, it just feels like acid on my skin.

Pulling my hand back, I place it in my pocket and finally look at him.

He looks drained. Sad, even. I’d like to believe him. That he misses me. But the memory as to why he’s here groveling sets me straight.

“You look tired. Late night with Sienna?” I cock my head to the side with a condescending smirk.

There’s a slight twinge of guilt on his face before he rounds the table that separates us. He steps into me, pushing me back and crowding my space. I take one more step back and he follows, standing flush against me; my back is now pressed into the leg pillar of the canopy that shades us.

“I told you, that was a mistake, a one-time thing that will never happen again.” He leans in closer, and I can’t help but press my palms into his chest, attempting to push him back, but he’s rooted to the ground, trapping me.

“Stop it Sam, let me out.” Craning my head to the side, I seek more space between us but it just gives him access to the side of my neck and allows him to dip even closer.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. What do I need to do to prove that to you?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, painfully, because it hurts when I want to believe him.

But I’m met with a flashback of their naked bodies rolling around in my bed and Sam’s voice telling Sienna how desperate he was for her.

How he only pretended to be with me so he could grow his following for himself and for her, too.

I hate it. I hate how used I felt, how used I still feel because he never really wanted me.

The saddest part of all of it, is now everybody I talk to gets the repercussions of his actions and I hate that he stole my ability to trust people.

Before I can re-open my eyes, a hand wraps around my wrist pulling me out of the trap and my chest is now flush with another.

A light aroma of cedar and sage engulf my senses before I peel my eyes open. It takes a moment for my sight to adjust and as it does, the vision that comes into view is breathtaking.

A man with bright blue eyes and a sharp, smooth jawline stares back at me. A mound of dirty blonde hair surrounds his gorgeous face and I’m suddenly speechless.

He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer, then uses the other to cup my cheek.

His eyes bounce between mine before a sexy smirk appears and his buttery voice dances in my ear. “Hey, pumpkin.”

My eyes widen at the use of the foreign nickname, then he leans down and kisses me.

He. Is. Kissing. Me.

Fireworks erupt in my belly as I moan into his mouth.

It’s all-consuming and completely intoxicating.

By instinct, my hands roam up his chest and over his broad shoulders. I’m drowning in sensory overload as his lips continue to explore mine. Goosebumps erupt over my skin and everything feels so natural, so perfect.

Just then, he pulls away slowly, his forehead resting on mine and we echo each other in a breathy, “Wow.”

His smile mirrors mine as we both open our eyes, recognizing the power behind whatever the hell that was.

“What the hell?” Sam’s voice screeches between us like rubber on a blacktop road.

I blink back into reality and pull away as I turn around to face Sam. Instead of letting me get away, my beautiful stranger wraps his arm around the top of my chest, pulling me back into him.

“You can go,” he says simply to Sam, like it’s a fact.

My eyes are still bewildered but I manage a tight smile and a wave as Sam looks around like this might be a joke before he takes a few steps backwards then retreats fully. Power walking like I’ve never seen.

I can understand his stress. The man with his arm wrapped around me is at least six feet tall with a landscape of muscle.

Intimidating is an understatement.

After he disappears from sight, I release a long breath and turn around, stepping out of the arms of my handsome savior.

My eyes trail up his body and now that I’ve gotten a moment to take him in more clearly, he’s utterly mouthwatering.

His stonewashed dark denim jeans fit snugly against his body, his basic white tee fits perfectly, displaying the words Lettuce Turnip The Beet in a column down the middle of it, and that makes me giggle.

“So, does that mean you like music or vegetables?” His brows pinch together with confusion, so I point at his shirt, reminding him of what he’s wearing.

Glancing down, his dirty blonde hair falls forward, covering the sides of his face as he pulls his shirt down to read it. His lip turns up for a brief moment before he says, “Both, actually.”

His smile is shy and endearing, but he exudes a confidence that I admire. He’s probably in his late twenties and if I had to guess he surfs in his spare time. Not only by the look of his lean, tight body, but his beachy hair and slight golden hue to his skin.

I bite the inside of my cheek, recognizing my awkwardness, unsure of what to say next.

This gorgeous man just kissed me and spared me from having to deal with Sam.

I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s never acted so aggressively before.

Even when I found him with one of my best friends—ex-best friend—he didn’t get that way.

“So, hey, I’m not in trouble or anything. That was my cheating ex and he’s never acted like that before. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” I tell him exactly what I was thinking, because I feel like I need to explain myself.

“You shouldn’t make excuses for him.” He starts unloading the crate that he must have carried in here before seeing Sam and I.

It’s full of small pumpkins and my cheeks flush recalling the use of the nickname.

“I’m not…I just don’t want you to think I’m that girl.”

“Sounds like you left him after you saw him with another woman and now he wants you back. Looks to me like you’re smart, beautiful, and deeply desired.

” He glances over at me, his gaze eating me up as he gives me a beaming smile.

He’s not stunted at all by his flaming hot compliment, but I’m on fire.

Clearly, I need praise more than I realized since my last relationship was completely void of it.

“Well…” I pat the front of my jeans, like I’m looking for something, feeling around my round curvy hips and suddenly I’m feeling a bit self-conscious. “I should probably go.”

He gives me a long, languid nod.

I want him to ask me for my number but just one short month ago I swore off men for life, so that part of me hopes he doesn’t.

When he doesn’t say anything more, I realize he only kissed me to help me and not because he wanted to and now I’m just embarrassed and need to exit this claustrophobic canopy stat.

“Thanks again for your help earlier.” I step toward him quickly and wrap my arms around his waist in a friendly embrace because I’m a hugger, and he is too, by the way he naturally wraps his arms around me and squeezes me back.

“Steer clear of that guy, okay?” he utters out loud, but not directly at me. Like he doesn’t want to boss me around but he wants to make sure I know he cares.

I give him a soft nod and a stiff smile as I step out of his space. I take a few backward steps and turn around. After one small step, he calls out, “I’m here all day; you could come back whenever, you know.”

I stop and glance over my shoulder and his wide smile is contagious so I call back, “I think I might have to.”

With a little more pep in my step, I walk in the opposite direction that Sam went and head to the front of the market where I like to place myself to collect donations.

My phone pings with a text notification. Pulling it from my back pocket, I glance at the pop up and see “Cheating Bastard” pop up. I changed his name in my contacts so I keep that fact at the forefront of my thoughts when talking to him, although I should just block him.

Cheating Bastard: Who is that Thor wannabe? Seriously, call me Abby. We need to talk.

It’s been an eventful morning and I’ve received well over twenty donations for the fire station charity drop off in a couple weeks. I finish collecting all the items and load them into my car.

Closing the trunk, I stop and glance back at the canopies that line the market. Some of which have been taken down and are packing up, and a few others still selling the last of their products.

Fortunately, Sam never came back, and I feel the need to go thank the gorgeous man who helped me. Who am I kidding? I’m making every excuse to see him.

I mean, he did invite me back, right?

Okay, I’m going.

I take a step in that direction, then swivel around back toward my car.

My heart beats out of my chest as I try to talk myself into going back.

It was just a kiss, and you should thank him…again. It’s easy, just go.

I swiftly turn around again and tilt up my chin. It’s friendly and doesn’t need to be anymore than that.

I run my hands through my dark long strands and finger my roots to give my hair a bit of a lift.

As I round the corner to the front of the market where his canopy was, it’s still there, shading a table and only a few small boxes sit on top.

One labeled free on the outside, an older couple steps behind the table, each grabbing the two remaining cardboard boxes as they hold a conversation placing them in the bed of a truck.

I don’t see him anywhere and I realize I don’t even know what his name is to ask if he’s still around.

A wave of sadness hits me as I turn around and head toward my car. I’m scolding myself for not going back earlier. The other part of myself is happy that I don’t have the option because that man is a heartbreak waiting to happen.