Chapter 11 Eve
EVE
Afew days later, when I see Ryder’s car turn into the parking lot in the distance, I drop my bedroom curtain from my fingers and speed down the stairs to the dirt road that separates my little bungalow from the parking lot.
It’s not exactly far, as Ryder’s offer to drive me home suggests, but it certainly seems that way in the cold of the night.
But today was warm, and the sun is just barely dipping beneath the horizon.
The sunset is beautiful and if I can get him into the barn quick enough, we might be able to see the tail end of it from the wide window that takes up one wall and provides—if I say so myself—the absolutely best vantage point of the sunset over the sunflowers on the entire farm.
When I get to his car, the windows are open, and he’s very obviously talking to someone over the Bluetooth in his car.
But I think sunsets are more important than whatever he’s talking about, so I don't let that stop me.
“Ryder!”
Having not seen me approach, he jumps, sending his phone flying through the air and landing in his backseat.
“Jesus Christ, Eve,” he says.
And then whoever’s on the other end of the phone says, “Eve? Your sunflower girl?”
And something about the possessive sends a little zip of heat down my spine.
He grumbles as he reaches behind the passenger seat to retrieve his phone. “Yes. I have to go, Sana. Are you good with everything?”
“You got it,” she says, and after a three-second pause, the line disconnects.
Ryder turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Quite a greeting,” he says, as he grabs a paper bag from the passenger seat.
I can’t help my grin as he pushes open his door and hands it to me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, as I reach in and run my fingers along the blue sweater it contains.
He shrugs, his eyes dipping to the cream version I’m wearing as he comes to his full height. “Something tells me I’ll be glad I did.” He pauses for a moment, nodding toward my sweater. “That looks nice on you.”
“Thank you,” I say, turning toward my house in an effort to hide my reddening face. “I love it.”
He grins. “Good.”
Silence falls between us, but rather than searching for the right thing to say, I grab his hand and tug him toward the house. “Come on, these are precious moments of sunset we’re wasting.”
“Precious moments?” he mocks, falling into step with me as he locks his car over his shoulder.
I wave him off. “The barn,” I explain. “I had a last-minute cancellation, meaning we can see the sunset from the best vantage point on the farm but we have to hurry.”
He kicks up his pace. “Alright, I’m hurrying.”
By the time we get there, the sunset is full blast in the sky. All pinks and oranges and reds. I feel terrible for the people who canceled due to a family emergency and won’t be able to see this, but it does mean that I can.
We climb the stairs to the converted loft and I enter the door code to get inside. It’s a large studio meant for a couple, but there are a few trundle beds stored away for the occasional small family that comes through.
The inside is bathed in the warm glow from the sunset.
Along one wall is a king size bed, and next to it, a bookshelf filled mostly with my castaways—a few books on sunflowers for good measure, and a nice mixture of genres I’ve picked up from various trips to the thrift store.
Across the room is a small seating nook with two big comfy armchairs, and next to that, a galley kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a yellow coffee maker.
And directly in front of us, the beautiful clawfoot tub that almost didn’t make it in here, framed perfectly underneath the gigantic window that looks out over the sunflower farm.
“Wow,” Ryder mutters as he shuts the door behind him. “You weren’t kidding about the sunset.”
I put a lot of work into this barn studio to make it nice, but his eyes travel right past all of the little details and land on that big window in front of us, the sky streaked in all sorts of bright colors.
And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. This whole room was made to fade into the periphery when that sunset pops up.
“Get in,” I tell him, pushing him toward the tub.
“Uh, what?”
“Get in the tub. You won’t get the full experience unless you’re in the tub.”
I throw one leg over the side and gesture for him to do the same. “Come on, you don’t have to get naked or anything. You just have to see it how it’s intended to be seen.”
He raises his eyebrows and then follows me in. “Okay then.”
I sit, keeping my legs close so he has room to do the same.
And then I turn toward the window, resting my arms on the edge of the tub and looking out over the farm.
The sunflowers sway slightly in the breeze, and all throughout the fields I catch the odd visitor still hanging out, or one of my guys cleaning up or collecting bouquets to send down the street to Rory’s flower shop or one of the many wedding venues along Main Street.
Moments like these remind me why I work so hard every day.
Maybe not for this moment exactly, but the ones that come every once in a while and remind me that all the work I’ve put in isn’t for nothing.
That other people appreciate this thing that is built from blood, sweat, and tears. “Isn’t it absolutely beautiful?”
I swear I can hear him swallow. “Absolutely beautiful,” he repeats, his voice low.
But when I glance at him, he’s looking at me.
I clear my throat and turn back to the window, my heart thumping.
But when I surreptitiously shift my eyes back to him a few moments later, his eyes are focused on the window, his hands held loosely around his bent knees. He looks surprisingly comfortable for having been forced into a dry bathtub with a woman he hardly knows.
And I’m surprisingly comfortable having him here.
We sit in silence for another twenty minutes while the sun sets, and when we finally turn our attention back to each other, we’re bathed in darkness.
I can barely make out his features as my eyes adjust to the dim light, but I’m pretty sure he’s grinning at me.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, making no obvious moves to get out.
I take my first deep breath in what must have been half an hour, between sprinting to the parking lot to grab him and running right back here to sit in the bathtub. “It’s one of my favorite parts of the farm.”
He nods. “I can see why. That was an incredible view.”
I glance out the window again, the sky nothing but a dark blue gradient brightening toward the horizon.
“I always wanted to put a little deck out here to capture that view, but we had some problems getting the tub inside, and—well, I wanted it enough that I knocked out the damn wall. There was no other way in, you know? So, no money left for the deck or anything, but I think it was worth it.”
His eyebrows rise. “You knocked out the wall for the sake of a bathtub?”
I shrug. “My stubborn side leaked out a bit. Someone was giving it away for free—said it had been used less than ten times—and I called in every favor I had. Got Izzy’s brother to help me pick it up in his truck—and we ended up calling in two of my guys to help because this thing weighs a metric fuck ton—and when we couldn’t get it in the front door, I said fuck it and told them to knock out the wall because I refused to have this tub sitting randomly on the farm as a place everyone stops to take a picture because it—like the watering cans and the old wheel barrows and the rusted old bike baskets—is filled with sunflowers.
I had a vision and I wasn’t going to stop until it came to fruition. ”
He laughs softly. “You probably could have just paid for a new one to get installed at that point.”
I gesture to my prized window. “But then I wouldn’t have this.”
He nods, his eyes dancing across the dark room. “This is pretty damn cool.”
“I think this barn is my contribution to the farm,” I say, admitting aloud the thing that has always bothered me about inheriting this farm.
“So much of it was already done for me. There were already processes in place and everyone was used to the way things were done. And I had no indication of why things were done in a certain way, because I wasn’t supposed to inherit this place so young, you know?
I was supposed to have time to learn. A degree to draw from.
Some sort of experience running the place instead of just running blindly through the sunflowers.
” He nods, his eyes locked on mine. “For the sake of not blowing things up immediately, I told everyone to just keep doing what they’re doing.
Over time, I expanded on the gift shop that was already there.
Added the portion of the business that does teas and pressed flowers, which really is only tangentially related to the farm and I only came up with it because Tabby has a tea shop.
But this barn is all my own. Designed by me, fixed up by me, rented out by me.
It might not be sunflowers like the rest of this place, but it has my stamp on it, you know? ”
“It’s really beautifully done. You may not have had experience with it, but you’re obviously a fast learner. Savvy. Willing to take the occasional, calculated risk, if this tub is any indication.”
I snort. “I’m not sure they’re calculated risks.”
“What are they, then?”
I shrug. “Something I wanted and hoped that other people might too.”
“How is that not a calculated risk? You saw an opportunity in something you wanted and took it.”
I let out a quick breath. “I guess. I just feel kind of constantly overwhelmed, you know? Like this whole place is just too much for one person to take care of. My grandmother did it, but she had help most of the time. My grandfather, until he passed. My mom when she was young, even though she wanted to do literally anything else. And I just have me.”
He stands, holding out his hand to help me up. “Well, you’re doing a good job, Eve Harper.”
I roll my eyes as I take his hand and stand, thankful that the darkness will hide the blood rushing into my cheeks.
“Thanks,” I murmur, because his hand is still in mine even though I’m standing on my own two feet.
It would take the gentlest of tugs to pull me right against his chest. The subtlest tilt of my head to brush my lips along his neck.
I swallow down the thoughts racing through my brain.
“Well, we should probably continue on the rest of our tour if you want to actually see any of it.”
He nods. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”
He doesn’t move as his thumb rubs along the soft spot between my thumb and forefinger. And with a heavy breath, he takes one careful step out of the tub, keeping hold of my hand until I follow a moment later.
“Thanks,” I mutter, as I begrudgingly extricate my hand from his and head to the opposite side of the barn to flick on the lights.
A warm glow surrounds us, and I beckon him over to the seating area, pointing out the lamp as well as the instructions on the table.
He raises his eyebrows as he quickly reads through, and then his eyes slide back to mine. “The water wheel actually gives you electricity?”
I nod. “Not much but enough to power most of the outlets. We had to hook up an additional power source to supplement all the appliances and we ask people not to plug in, like, hair dryers or anything, but we strongly encourage phone chargers, lamps, kids’ toys.
Anything that can be plugged in for a little power.
My grandfather set this up years ago, and it always upset me that people couldn’t really see it.
So it’s not much—the water wheel isn’t that big after all—but it’s really cool to walk around thinking you sustainably charged your phone via water. Like, that’s cool.”
He snorts. “I’m sad I didn’t bring my charger.”
“What kind of phone do you have?”
He fishes it out of his pocket so I can see the connector, and I pull out a matching one from behind one of the armchairs.
He plugs it in, and his phone lights up. He nods, watching it for a moment. “Well, I can honestly say this is a brand-new experience for me. I have never charged my phone via water wheel before.”
I can’t help my grin. “Exactly! How cool is that?”
“Really cool,” he says, his smile widening.
We stay there for a minute watching it while I become painfully aware of the darkness settling outside.
“Okay, you have enough charge. Let’s go before we run out of daylight.”
He laughs as he lets the wire go and tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Lead the way, Sunflower.”