Chapter 22 Eve
EVE
I’ve been watching the storm with a close eye over the past few days, painfully aware that it seems to be building and building as it hovers over the Atlantic, but unwilling to believe the worst until I have to.
We have all sorts of sunflowers on the farm—late blooming varieties and hardier ones—but none, unfortunately, that can reliably survive a hurricane.
It doesn’t look like it'll be a direct hit, but I’m betting it’s enough to cause flooding if Aiden’s already stockpiling supplies. His animals are more important to him than anything else, so the second a potential threat shows up, he abandons everything else.
And he only ever shows up here with ominous weather predictions if he thinks I might need to make a big decision.
He’d never tell me what to do, and he makes that painfully clear anytime he gets that prickly feeling along the back of his neck that tells him the weather is off in some way, but I know by now that it’s better to heed his advice while I still have the chance.
I thank him for coming and send the two men away with promises to see them again early in the morning, armed with their shears.
I send out a text to every single one of my employees to get here early, if they can—this is an all-hands-on-deck sort of situation—and that they’ll be rewarded handsomely for any extra time they can give me.
And then I pour myself a mug of tea and go down the list of friends I’ve made over the years, once I took over the farm and realized this shit is fucking hard, and downright impossible, if not for a community of support.
I sit on my couch under my favorite sunflower blanket and text Grace from Lavender Springs, who specializes in all things botanical.
Rory’s sister Kat, a wedding planner who has her nose in every flower shop in the tri-state area for just the chance of a discounted flower.
Willow, who runs a scrapbooking business online and has an almost uncomfortable love for dried flowers.
River from Daisy Lake who ironically specializes in candles and her sister Ivy who has a chokehold on the pressed flower business nationwide.
And they, like the wonderful humans they are, agree to take on stock a little early and spread the word that Sunflower Hill sunflowers are—for this storm only—cheap as fuck.
Before I know it, there’s a knock on my door that wakes me from a truly delightful dream in which Channing Tatum had been dragging sunflowers lightly across my skin, whispering words I couldn’t understand but I knew to be sweet nothings.
Although to be honest, I’m not disappointed to see Ryder on the other side of my door.
“Fuck, I fell asleep. I should have been out there hours ago,” I mutter as I let him in and promptly run up the stairs to change.
I pull on my uniform—a layer of spandex underneath a thick sweater and overalls to top off the classic farm girl look—but just as I’m about to head back down the stairs, I realize Ryder was wearing a rain jacket, and call down, “Has the storm started?”
“Raining lightly."
“Fuck.”
I scramble down the stairs, throwing my hair into a ponytail. “What time is it?”
“Six.”
I rear back. “Wow, that’s actually a lot earlier than I expected it to be when you managed to show up before my alarm clock.” Then I realize I would have had to set my alarm clock. “Except my alarm clock is upstairs.” I shake my head. “I fell asleep on the couch trying to sell sunflowers.”
His brow furrows. “Do you need to sleep in a bit? Tell me what and where to chop and I can get started without you.”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve got everyone I’ve ever met coming for flowers today. I should already be out there preparing for when they get here.”
I grab my rain jacket from the coat closet by the front door and head outside, holding the door for Ryder as he follows.
I head straight for the barn, grabbing a number of five-gallon buckets and stem powder to keep the bouquets fresh.
As we haul everything out to the dirt road, I spot Vic heading up the driveway, and he gives me a big wave as he diverts straight for the sunflower field. He knows the drill by now.
But Ryder doesn’t, so I speak while I distribute a little bit of flower food into each of the buckets and add a light layer of water from the faucet outside the gift shop.
“We want to start from the back of the sunflower field. Goal is to get as many about-to-bloom flowers as possible into these buckets before everyone gets here. Abby will put a sign up at the road for half-price bouquets, so we’ll make a few that we’ll keep nice and pretty and stack around the rusted bicycle in case anyone stops in.
Otherwise, we let everyone else have their pick and sell them half-price by the stem.
I’ve got a bunch of girls who use them for different things so they might want ones that are just browning or ones that look extra seedy, so don’t be too picky with those ones. ”
He nods, pulling a brand-new pair of shears out of his pocket. “I came prepared. Wiped them down with an alcohol swab and everything.”
I can’t help my smile. “Good job, Ryder.”
He grins.
“Once everyone has taken their pick, we transition to blooming sunflowers. I’ll pick and dry the leaves and store them over winter, so they do have to be in reasonable condition to start with.
We’re going to have to leave sunflowers behind, so only look for the best of the best once we get to those. ”
He squeezes his shears together quickly in confirmation. “Got it, boss.” He nods toward the sunflower field where Vic disappeared. “I’m going to go play in the flowers.”
Before he wanders off, I spot the mesh bags we use to harvest stuffed into the bottom of one of the buckets. “Oh wait!”
I grab one for him and push it into his hands.
“You’ll be able to carry a lot more with this.
There’s a small bag in there too that you can use for sunflower seeds if the heads don’t look great but the seeds are easy to brush.
Just don’t spend much time doing that—I always get stuck trying to get every last seed out of one flower when I have thousands around me. ”
“Gotcha. Can’t wait to get to work.” He throws the handle over one arm and pulls the bag away from his body to see the size and then pulls out the smaller seed bag. “Anything else?”
I shake my head. “Just… thank you.”
His smile is so genuine that I want to melt on the spot.
“Of course.”
By the end of the day, the buckets have been filled, emptied, washed, and filled again dozens of times.
The girls have come and taken their pick of sunflowers, and a number of cars have stopped to pick up a bouquet before the storm.
We sent out deliveries to a few local-ish flower shops as well, now that we’ve amassed a pile of chopped sunflowers so large it’s hard to maneuver between the sunflower field and my house.
But we haven’t even hit half of the sunflower field. The wildflowers and sunflower look-alikes will die off and grow back next year, so I’m not too worried about them. But I hate leaving product on the table just for the hurricane to wipe it all out.
I send everyone home when night falls and the temperature drops.
The rain has grown heavier over the day, and although the wind hasn’t reached concerning levels yet, I know we’re operating on borrowed time.
Vic looks exhausted but takes a bouquet home with him—one that I hope is for Nora—and I get a variety of goodbyes as the farm slowly clears out.
And then it’s just Ryder and me, stomping through fields that are growing soggier and soggier by the minute.
“Why don’t you head home? You’ve been here all day, and I haven’t seen you eat or drink much.”
He snorts, chopping another sunflower and expertly positioning it in his bag. He stops after a few paces to quickly swipe some seeds from a somewhat sad-looking sunflower.
“I had two sandwiches, half a pizza and enough sunflower seeds that I wouldn’t be surprised if they started sprouting from my ears.”
“You ate them straight from the sunflowers?”
He shrugs. “Sorry, hope that doesn’t get me in trouble.”
I shake my head. “We won’t be able to get to them all anyway. It’s just… very farmer of you. They’re tough before they’re roasted.”
He nods. “Yeah, my mouth hurts a little.”
I resist the urge to offer to kiss it better.
“Well, thank you for helping today. I really, really appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’m here for you, Evie.”
And something about those words hits me right where I don’t want to feel them. My chest tightens, and I feel that now-familiar urge to press myself against him like I can melt right into his arms.
“You should head home. Rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Are you going to rest?” he asks, as he chops another sunflower and arranges it in his bag.
“I’ll be out here for a while yet. I’d love to have everything ready to load up first thing tomorrow so the rest of the day can be spent on seeds and dried leaves.
” I glance at the sky—as if I can see anything other than dark gray—and turn back to him, swiping a number of seeds into my own bag.
“I’m a little worried about what tomorrow is going to look like once the winds pick up. ”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m not done until you’re done.”
“You want to be out here all night in the rain and cold?”
He nods. “If I’m with you.”
When I glance at him, he doesn’t divert his gaze. He just lets his words sit. Like maybe he actually means what he says.
“I don’t want to run you into the ground,” I say, and I give him a quick grin. “I know you city boys are delicate.”
“I’m from here, remember?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
“You dress up like you’re from here.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’ve collected more sunflowers than anyone else on this farm today. I’ve eaten more seeds and stomped in more mud. And might I remind you, I’m the last man standing.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m the last man standing.”
He reaches out, his palm landing on my jaw and his thumb brushing across my cheek. “Fine, you’re the last man standing.” He scrunches up his nose as his other hand wipes across my forehead. “Also the dirtiest one.”
I self-consciously wipe my hands across my face and—upon looking at them afterward—realize that probably only made the problem worse.
He grins at me. “I’m not done until you’re done, but mostly because I worry you’ll be out here all night unless there’s someone to physically force you to go to bed.” He pauses. “This feels a little bit like Pre-burnout Evie has taken the reins.”
I give him a flat look. “Normal Evie told you that in confidence. How dare you confront Pre-burnout Evie about it.”
He gives me a small smile, a drop of rain running down his cheek. “Well, I’ll have to apologize to Normal Evie. If we can really call her that.”
“Oh! You know what? You’re fired.”
He laughs, his hand falling to the back of my neck and tugging me closer. My hands land on his rain jacket, and if they weren’t so numb, I bet I could feel every single one of his rock-hard abs.
He kisses me lightly, our lips wet from the rain. Little rivulets of water cascade beneath my jacket with my face turned toward the sky.
I feel the sudden urge to abandon everything I’ve worked so hard for today, collapse into the mud and let him undress me despite the likely hypothermia.
His lips brush mine when he speaks again, his voice low. “I’ll give you one more hour, but after that, I’m locking you in the house.”
I grin. “Sounds kinky.”
He raises his eyebrows, the hand on the back of my neck tightening ever so slightly. “We can go in now if you want.”
Despite just how enticing that offer is, I can’t just abandon the sunflowers. “I have to do as much as I can tonight or I’m going to feel like I’ve failed the farm.”
He sighs. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” He turns, chopping another sunflower and fitting it into his bag. When I don’t immediately follow him, he turns and says, “Come on, Sunflower. You’ve got fifty-nine minutes.”