Chapter 7
A iden and I aren’t back in the apartment together until after dinner.
I ate downstairs while Pumpkin sat snorting in one of his many beds and Mom and Dad talked to each other through Pumpkin.
It works like this: Mom asks, “Does Pumpkin want dessert?” And Dad replies, “I think Pumpkin would love some apple cobbler.”
Which, same, apple cobbler sounds great, but it can’t be healthy to have entire conversations through a dog, can it?
But what do I know about marriage? I was just dumped and betrayed by the guy I was in my longest relationship with.
Maybe Pumpkin is the linchpin in Mom and Dad’s successful marriage. Who am I to question it?
I’m sitting on the little couch in the living room of the attic apartment.
My pink laptop is propped on my legs, and I’m wearing my pajamas.
The pants are butter soft, and the button-up top is dotted with little fall orange-leaved trees and apples.
Mom sent them to me because she knows how much I love fall.
Now that I’m wearing them here at the inn it’s even more poignant.
I have a facial mask on because it’s Thursday, which is mask night, and even though Aiden is hot, I have no intention of flirting with him, so he’s gotta deal with my green-tea face mask if we’re going to be roomies.
He comes out of the bathroom, where he’s just taken a shower, wearing nothing but shorts again, which is patently ridiculous. I mean, if my abs looked like that, and I was a guy, I would probably go around shirtless a lot too, but it’s downright distracting.
He stops when he sees me and cracks a smile. “What’s that on your face?”
“Green-tea mask,” I reply, refusing to look up from my laptop.
I’ve seen enough of his abs for the time being, and I’m already restless and achy and feel as if I could totally pull him down on top of me if the opportunity arose.
Which is another reason I slathered on the face mask.
Nobody is getting laid with a face mask on.
“Does Starbucks sell that?” Aiden asks.
It takes me a moment to realize he isn’t joking.
Wow. Dude really has never been in a Starbucks before, has he?
I would think he was possibly a Russian spy, but I’m pretty sure a Russian spy would have been to a Starbucks.
I tilt my head to the side, seriously considering his question for a minute.
“Honestly, I wish they did sell it. It’d be easier than going to the beauty store to pick it up.
Anyway, do you want to go over the list of ideas for the festival now? ”
After I worked on finding a job this morning, I spent the better part of the afternoon ordering things for the festival.
My plan is an age-old one. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.
Otherwise, I’d spend too long arguing with Professor Apple here, and that would just waste time.
We only have two weeks to prep for the festival.
This is going to be a rush job as it is.
But I’m not worried. I have a lot of experience with rush jobs.
When I first began at GMJ, I got all the last-minute parties.
All the new hires do. It’s sort of like a rite of passage.
They test your mettle by seeing how quickly you can put together a decent event.
I thrived on it. So, this is fun for me.
And this particular event is even more fun because I don’t have to run any of my ideas past the partners at GMJ. It’s a freakin’ pleasure, actually.
“Sure,” Aiden replies, glancing around. “Let me get my list.”
He darts into his bedroom and spends several moments shuffling around before I take pity on him and call out, “If you’re looking for your Post-it note, it’s on the counter.”
“Ah,” he calls, jogging out of the bedroom. Still shirtless.
He grabs the little slip of paper from the countertop and makes his way over to sit next to me on the tiny couch.
It’s more of a love seat, really. Which means we’re close.
Real close. I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
I can smell his fresh soapy scent. I shift on my cushion.
I turn, pointing my knee toward him, and reopen my laptop, determined not to spend one more second staring at him.
“What are those?” he says, sounding incredulous.
I glance up to see him staring at my hands. I’d just put on some new press-ons tonight along with the face mask. “My... fingernails?” I reply. He may be a farmer, but he’s got to know what press-ons are.
His eyes are wide. “They’re so...”
“Fabulous?” I supply as my eyes narrow even further. My claws are bright orange with a little leaf on two of them. I know they’re adorable. He’d better not say one word against them.
“Can you type with those things?”
My brows shoot up. “I can do anything with these things.” I pat the top edge of my laptop. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I definitely couldn’t work with those.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t wear them, then.” I give him a tight smile.
“You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry. They’re just so... orange.”
“Orange nails, green face mask. And you’re not wearing a shirt. Are we all caught up?” Okay, that probably came out a little more bitchy than I meant it to.
“Wait. What?” He blinks at me. “Do you want me to put on a shirt?” He looks shocked, as if the thought never occurred to him.
“Well, it is a little distracting,” I admit, wrinkling my green-gooped nose.
“Really?” His voice is completely incredulous. “Distracting?”
I shrug. Oh, great. Now I’ve waded knee-deep into this topic. “Um... yeah. I mean... you’re a good-looking guy, and your abs are—”
“Whoa! You think I’m good-looking?” His eyes are wide, and he’s sitting up straight now.
“Didn’t you tell me I was hot earlier?” I say this in an accusatory manner. The whole conversation is already ridiculous. “So what if I say you’re the same?”
“Yeah, but I just assumed you knew that,” he replies, as if that explains everything.
“Likewise.” Okay, now I wish I didn’t have on the green face mask, or maybe I wish I had on more of it and it was covering my eyes so I could not even see him.
At least the mask is obscuring the red that is probably spreading over my cheeks.
“Look, I just... We need to plan this festival, that’s all.
” I focus my attention back on my extremely detailed bulleted list.
“Okay, but let me throw on a shirt first. I don’t want to distract you.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I want to hurl one of the couch pillows at him, but I refrain. That would not be professional.
He’s back in a minute wearing a red-and-gray Cornell T-shirt, which is the kind of passive aggression that I admire. He resumes his seat on the couch. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you,” I reply. “I have a strict rule about mixing business and pleasure.”
His brow crumples. “Isn’t the guy you live with your coworker?”
What the hell? How much did Mom tell him? And how closely was he listening? Sheesh. “He, uh, was.”
“ Was? ” One of Aiden’s dark brows arches.
I sigh. It’s time to come clean. “Look, can you keep a secret?”
He crosses his heart. “Promise.”
I hadn’t wanted to get into this yet, but somehow I believe Aiden won’t tell anyone, since I’ve asked him not to. I trust him. I expel my breath. “My boyfriend and I broke up.”
Both of Aiden’s brows shoot straight up this time. “ Really? ”
“Yep. It turns out that dating a guy I work with was a horrible idea, and I’m never doing it again.” There. How’s that for an explanation?
“Noted,” says Aiden. “And your parents don’t know yet?”
“Right,” I say. I quickly explain how Geoff stole my ideas and how I was fired too.
“Oh, wow. Ellie, that’s terrible,” Aiden says. He’s biting his lip and shaking his head.
It does sound pretty bad when I say it out loud. But the truth is the truth. I plow ahead.
“And since I lived with Geoff, I kinda needed a place to stay,” I continue. “So when Mom asked for my help, I agreed.”
Aiden crosses his arms over his chest and nods. “Oh, now it all makes sense,” he says slowly, dragging out the words.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Aiden shrugs. “I wondered why you were suddenly so interested in this place after all these years.”
Okay. Now I’m definitely getting even redder beneath my mask but for a completely different reason. I’m pissed. “Are we seriously back on this topic again? What’s your problem?”
Aiden plucks at the bottom of his T-shirt. “I don’t have a problem. It’s fine by me whenever you want to come home.”
“Uh, no, it’s clearly not. You’ve done nothing but give me shit about it since I got here.”
He’s silent for several moments, and I gear up to tell him off for just how unwelcoming he’s been. But then—
“You’re right, Ellie,” he finally says in a low, calm voice. “It’s just...” He takes a deep breath and meets my gaze. “I could tell how much your parents missed you. But it’s not my place to judge you for it. I’m sorry.”
In my fired-up state, that was the last thing I’d expected him to say.
I just blink at him for several more moments, processing the apology.
Is it possible to read facial expressions happening beneath face masks?
If so, mine has got to be pure surprise.
Because it turns out Aiden Parker is a man who can admit he’s wrong?
And apologize? It may be the swoon-worthiest thing ever.
Plus, he’s right. My parents did miss me.
“Thank you for that. I accept your apology,” I say.
Aiden just nods.
A few more silent moments pass before I say, “So, the festival plans?”
“Can I ask you a question first?” Aiden’s lodged into one corner of the couch and is hugging a throw pillow to his chest.
“Sure.”
He grins at me. “What were you going to say about my abs earlier when I interrupted you?”
I can’t help the smile that pops to my lips. “Maybe you shouldn’t have interrupted me, and you’d know already.” Okay, that sounded flirty, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Ah, come on,” he pleads. “Tell me. I told you that you’re hot.”
I sigh. “Fine. I was going to say that your abs are...” I’m searching for the correct word. It’s not easy. “Ridiculous,” I decide. “Your abs are ridiculous.”
His grin spreads across his whole face. “I swear I wasn’t trying to show them off.”
“I don’t believe you, but I also don’t blame you. If my abs looked like that, I’d be shirtless too. Now, can I ask you a question?” He’s given me the perfect opening. I’m going to take it.
“Sure,” he says.
“What were you doing out in the orchard this morning?”
“What do you mean?” He swallows, and I can tell he doesn’t want to answer the question.
“This morning, when Charlotte and I showed up. What were you doing out there?”
“Just tending to the trees.” His gaze is glued to his Post-it note again.
“Really? You weren’t doing anything you didn’t want me to see?”
“Like what?” he counters. But he still won’t look at me.
He’s horrible at pretending. And now I’m stuck because I have no idea what anyone could be secretly doing out in the orchards.
I don’t have a master’s in agriculture from Cornell.
What does secret apple farming consist of?
I should have searched the internet on that question before I began this discussion.
Too late now. “It just seemed like you wanted me out of there quickly.”
“Nope. No. Nothing to hide,” he says in the most I’ve-got-something-to-hide voice I’ve ever heard. He’s got no future in being a criminal.
After a few moments, it’s clear he’s not gonna say any more.
“Okay, fine, so, back to business.” I clear my throat and review my long list. “Do you want to go first?”
“Sure,” he says, clearly relieved that the subject is changing. The Post-it is stuck to the tip of his index finger. He reads from it quickly. “Float, maze, bobbing for apples, archery.”
I wait for a few seconds to be sure he isn’t going to expound on any of it.
Apparently not. “Great ideas!” I say in a voice that’s probably too enthusiastic.
But I’d had all afternoon to think about his list and had already decided to seemingly agree to all of it and use the word and to present my own.
And is a better word to use than but . My therapist taught me that.
Plus, as a rookie event planner I learned to always praise my client’s bad ideas and then artfully maneuver the conversation toward my better ideas. It’s a whole tactic.
“And I was thinking we could do a scarecrow-dressing contest, a pumpkin-carving contest, hayrides, and live music. Oh, and instead of bobbing for apples, a make-your-own caramel or chocolate apple stand would be fun.” I want to say, “more hygienic,” but I don’t.
I am not done, however, and by the time I finish rattling off my list, Aiden has a look that I shall describe as “horrified” on his face.
“What do you think?” I ask, smiling brightly.
He scratches the back of his head. I try not to look at how his shoulder stretches the T-shirt tight. Or think about how I would love to squeeze his bicep and run my hand over his arm for absolutely no reason.
I force myself to concentrate on what he’s about to say. Like me, the man has no poker face whatsoever. “I mean...” He bites his lip and scratches his head some more. “That’s... a lot .”
“Yeah, it’s a lot,” I allow, “but I think these things could be really good for the inn and the orchard.”
“How much will all that cost?” he asks next.
And there it is. The opening I’ve been waiting for all day. “Mom and I didn’t really discuss a budget yet. Do you know how much we can spend?”
He cringes and lets out a resigned breath. “As little as possible.”
It’s my turn to frown now. I shut my laptop and face him. I intend to be blunt. “Is there something I need to know about the businesses, Aiden?”
He bites his lip, and I can tell he’s wrestling with what to say.
“Are they in trouble?” I prod. If I’m going to help them, I need the truth. “I noticed a lot of changes around here. A lot of money’s been spent, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He nods. “On changes I didn’t think we needed. Mom and Lucy have really been trying to revamp things around here. We’ve had a lot of competition in recent years with new orchards in the area that are all over social media, and the damn Airbnbs.”
Oh, so there is trouble in autumn paradise? “And there are financial issues as a result?” I press.
“It’s not great,” he admits. “But I’m working on fixing it.”