2. Will
Chapter two
Will
S igh. Bailey Bee. So sweet. So sexy. I can stare at this man all day and still find new things to obsess over. He has this way of smiling at people and instantly putting them at ease. Oh, and his hair… rose gold. It’s an actual hair color, and I even did an internet search just to figure out the name of his shade. Rose gold. And if that isn’t enough, he’s close to my age and built about the same, too. Not ripped like a gladiator or perfectly lean, but the achievable kind of sexy with some muscle definition and visible veins and… I need to stop there while in public. To put it more concisely, he is the Rocky to my Dr. Frank-N-Furter. If I were building myself the perfect man, that would be Bailey.
Except Bailey doesn’t know I exist, so every Sunday, I pine at a distance while watching him work his stand at the farmer’s market. Sometimes I wonder if his name is really Bailey. His last name certainly isn’t Bee. Or is it?
“Just go talk to him and get it over with. This is getting kinda sad.”
“Fuck off, Jess,” I mutter without looking back.
I don’t even need to turn my head to know Jesse’s glaring at me. He gets so annoyed by my pining a.k.a. slacking. I’ll bet money that if I look right now, he’s scowling at my back and disturbing his black hair by scrubbing his scalp before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his work sweatshirt. I’m wearing mine too, with the name of the farm on the back and my name embroidered on the front. Cold as hell in the early morning this time of year in Massachusetts, and my buzz cut doesn’t help.
“Can you at least help me unload the rest of this?”
I don’t so much as glance back at him, just lift my arm in his direction and give him the middle finger. Shoppers will arrive soon, and then I’ll have to focus on working. He can handle unloading the last box when almost everything else has been done.
I don’t expect Jess to understand. The idea of a classic romance with handwritten love letters would probably make him break out into hives. He’s a good friend and an excellent co-worker. And regrettably, attractive to boot. Not romantic, though.
Jesse and I met working at the same farm. Not out in the fields or anything, but in the little store that sells produce and sometimes other goods made by our boss’s daughter, Cheryl. I’ve worked there for a few years, but this is my second year selling for the store at the farmer’s market. And Bailey Bee’s Honey is only two stands down and across from ours this year. Getting a space this close to him feels serendipitous.
“Don’t spend another year gazing at him from afar, then kicking yourself once the market ends for the season in a few weeks.” Jesse sets a crate next to me and smacks my arm. “And at least unpack while staring. Would ya?”
“You know, I don’t heckle you for ogling women,” I grumble.
Either he doesn’t hear me or chooses not to respond before he gets back to work.
I tear my eyes away from Bailey for maybe five seconds to unpack jars of jam for the display. When I look up again, he’s walking over. No, not here. Oh, fuck, yes. Right to our stand. And up to me.
“Hi,” he says with that perfect smile that could melt the coldest of hearts.
A somewhat pained sound escapes while I raise my hand in a small wave. He watches my hand move, but gestures at the display I’m building.
“When did you guys start selling jam?”
When did we start selling jam? I have no idea. I know nothing anymore. Go ahead and ask my name. I can’t even tell you. After a short yet awkward silence of me gawking at Bailey, Jess comes and saves me.
“Cheryl added it to the store earlier this year.”
And now Bailey seems disappointed I haven’t responded to him. I’m bombing this. So badly. So very, very badly. I can’t help it. On-the-spot social interaction has never been my strength. Not when the person is this attractive. Makes way more sense to figure out everything about them first to ensure the conversation flows in the right direction. How else are you supposed to say the right thing?
“Well… ah.” Bailey smiles and I should go to prison for the crime of thinking he couldn’t get any cuter. Except he can. When nervous. “I guess… I just wanted to say hello to you guys.” His eyes flick to me at the word guys . “I better get back now. Don’t have anyone to watch my stand.” He smiles one more time and turns to leave.
What’s that saying? I hate to see him go, but I love watching him walk away. Jesse gives me a look when he notices me craning my neck to watch Bailey. Sue me. The guy has a succulent ass. How is one man so gorgeous? Bailey’s perfect in every way, which is why my mind short-circuits around him.
“Dude,” Jesse says with a shake of his head. “That was painful to witness.”
“Great, because it was painful to experience.”
Jesse sighs and grabs the empty crate, then stores it under a table. “You’re not exactly subtle, either.”
“I can’t help it. Even thinking about talking to him makes my brain force restart.”
I take a deep sigh and look over at Bailey’s stand, where he’s talking with his first customer. Cutest goddamn beekeeper in existence. Who could blame me?
“This is why I’m talking to that guy. To like, build up my social skills so I don’t act so much like me.”
Jesse rolls his eyes. “You talk to me just fine, thanks.”
“Duh, you’re straight.”
Jesse rolls his eyes again.
“And I dunno. This guy’s nice. Kinda lonely, too. I get this vibe that he’s older. His partner died, and he’s trying to start all over, but all he finds are these guys who only want a quick fuck.”
“That’s actually really sad.” Jesse frowns. “But taking up his time out of pity isn’t doing him any favors.”
I shrug. I’m not out searching for someone to be a glucose guardian, nor am I so young that Mantis will disregard me. At least, I don’t think so. Maybe for the right guy… maybe certain stuff won’t matter as much when we already have a connection. And there is something between us. I look forward to reading his messages and texting him back… whoever he is. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get to the point where we want to share more and take this somewhere. I’m not ready to discount him just yet.
The rest of the workday passes quickly enough. Right after the market ends, but before we load the truck and break down the displays, I get a notification ding. Mantis and I are still messaging solely within the app. His choice, and I don’t mind.
Orchid Mantis: Having a good day?
Purple Puppy: Well, ah, that’s a loaded question. I want to say yes.
Purple Puppy: And really, not terrible right now. But dammit, am I ever awkward in person.
Purple Puppy: Who am I kidding? I’m awkward not in person, too.
Orchid Mantis: You’re exuberant. It’s sweet.
Aww. See, this is exactly why I enjoy talking to Mantis. Even after the unfortunate realization that the stupid app saves each randomized username when two people match so you know who you’re talking to without knowing who you’re talking to—which may be for the best since we haven’t shared our personal info yet—he makes the app worth keeping. Mantis is such a wholesome guy.
And really and truly, we’ve been texting daily for a week, and it’s nice to have someone who wants to… talk. That’s it. Maybe I do need an older guy, since I clearly have some dated expectations. Mantis strikes me as the type who would gladly woo me.
Orchid Mantis: I take it you have someone you like?
Oh, boy. This may get awkward.
Purple Puppy: Maybe? Doesn’t feel right to say for certain when I don’t really know him. I want to know him. I also want to have an epic romance with someone.
Purple Puppy: Only he doesn’t know I exist. And I’m starting to think maybe he never will. It’s a lost cause at this point.
Orchid Mantis: You should talk to him.
Purple Puppy: You sound like my best friend.
Orchid Mantis: Your best friend sounds smart.
I look over at Jesse, texting away with a huge grin on his face. Probably hitting up another girl he met at the store. At least he won’t complain about me being on my phone when he’s taking a break to do the same.
Purple Puppy: I’ve got to go for now, but I’ll talk to you again when I get home. Still wrapping it up here.
Orchid Mantis: I’m looking forward to it.
And I realize too late he could’ve construed my last message as a slight innuendo, but Mantis is not that kinda guy. He’s really going to want to talk to me about mostly normal things. I say mostly since we have dipped into sexual conversations a bit, but hey, that’s part of being responsible, too. And really, that’s what he seems like—an actual adult. Whereas I’m that dog in the burning room telling himself everything is fine. I have no idea what in the hell I’m doing and I’m starting to believe I’ll never have my shit together. I can’t even imagine what a guy like Mantis sees in me.