Chapter 8 #2
"I'm sorry," I said, placing one tentative hand on Davis's elbow.
He cast a quick glance at me before turning his eyes to the road. "It was a long time ago."
"Yeah, but it still sucks."
"That's pretty much my life thesis. Life sucks… and then you die."
I shook my head, saddened. "And on that cheery note, I'm going to make you a grilled cheese tonight," I promised.
"Because…"
"Cheese makes everything better."
Davis grunted, but he didn't disagree. I marked it in the win column and followed him into the house, putting the ice pack he'd brought me back in the freezer. I elevated my foot on the coffee table and turned on the TV in the background while I graded papers.
He appeared a few minutes later, hovering at the foot of the couch, watching me.
"What's up?" I asked.
"I thought you were done for the day," he said.
I grinned. "Davis, honey, you are cute. A teacher's job, like a farmer's, is never done."
He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck before grumbling. "I'll be in my office."
"I'll text you when dinner is ready."
I sighed, setting down my pen when he was safely out of the room.
Caught between the urge to flirt and the need to keep things friendly, my waffling was driving me nuts.
I shuddered to think how Davis perceived me right now.
He'd opened up more than I'd thought he would on the ride home from work.
He'd shocked me silly, agreeing to come speak with my students.
I tried to envision Davis in front of my class. He was so stoic. It was hard to imagine my students' reaction to his gruff presence.
My phone buzzed with an incoming message, and I made the mistake of checking it.
Gwen: We're still meeting tomorrow even though Jo's MIA, yes?
Gwen was our town mayor and official ringleader of our friend group.
We'd started as dreamers around the firepit and turned our brainstorming into a full-fledged takeover of our small town. Gwen’s knack for rallying people to her vision meant that we’d taken roles on the city council, turning our weekly get-togethers around the Pruitt firepit into a combination of friendly gossip and town business.
Together, we’d rebranded Campfire and started a series of festivals meant to drive tourist traffic, and their all-important dollars, into our town.
The first couple of events were successful but not without their challenges.
It’d be one thing if those challenges had been self-inflicted wounds, but we had resistance from another quarter.
Someone in Campfire didn’t want us to succeed and had taken pains to ensure that we were undermined at every turn.
We’d still managed to pull off our fall festival and winter auction, but it left us all wary about what our unseen saboteur would do to cause mischief at the spring balloon festival.
Izzy: Yes, oh fearless leader.
I grinned at Izzy's response. Spending time with her husband, Ivan, was good for her. She was a lot snarkier thanks to his influence. It was fun watching her step into her own confidence.
Sophie: I'm there! Mostly because I'm already here…
Jo: Hope you're keeping Davis in line while I'm gone.
Izzy: TBH he's probably keeping her in line…
Sophie: Hey now.
They weren't exactly wrong, but I didn't need to tell them that.
Davis was quiet during dinner, resisting my attempts to draw him out again. I chattered away, talking about my students, lesson plans, and coworkers. He made a show of listening intently, but part of me felt like I was flinging myself at him and falling flat.
I didn’t need another relationship where I felt alone with my partner. My hope that we could forge something more than friendship withered in the face of his reserve.
He helped me clean up, sliding our dishes into the dishwasher after I rinsed them.
“Good night, Davis,” I said as he started the dishwasher.
He looked up, seeming surprised by me excusing myself. “Do you want to watch your show?”
I paused, caught off guard by his offer. “I thought you might want some time to yourself. I figure having me here is cutting into your alone time, and I don’t want to be a bother.”
He shook his head, watching me steadily. In my heart, his expression said stay with me, sending secret thrills down my spine, but I’d already learned that organ was an unreliable translator when it came to Davis.
“I’m not always much of a talker, but I like being with you.”
It was as close to an admission as I was likely to get from my taciturn farmer, and his validation warmed the dark corner of my soul that always wanted more from him, leaving me shy but hopeful.
“Oh.” I swallowed, hoping to soothe my dry mouth. “I like spending time with you too.”
One corner of Davis’s mouth tilted up, the barest hint of a smile, but it brought my pulse to a stuttering stop. He was gorgeous when he smiled. It was a crime that he did it so rarely.
My skin buzzed as we settled on the couch, Davis turning on the baking show I’d used to distract myself on my first night at the farm.
I floated after his confession, unable to really focus on the TV, ever conscious of his bulk next to me on the couch.
The subtle shift of the cushions bent me toward him, making me wish I could just yield to the force between us.
But he sat calmly at my side, totally intent on the pastry chefs on our screen, and oblivious to my desire.