Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
W hen Gabe finally blasts the horn to signal the end of the day, I’m torn between crying, collapsing, or both. My hips feel like they’ve been rubbed raw by the stiff pads of my bags, my shoulders are on fire from the straps grinding into them all day, and every step is a painful reminder of the blister blooming on my heel. Oh, and the rash on my thighs? Yeah, it’s gone from annoying to full-on excruciating. And, of course, Gabe was right about the mosquitoes—they just bit right through my leggings like an all-you-can-eat buffet. By tomorrow, I’ll probably be sporting welts the size of toonies.
Emma catches up to me as I plant my last tree, her face streaked with dirt but somehow still glowing with energy. “You survived,” she says, grinning like we’ve just crossed a marathon finish line.
“Barely,” I mutter, straightening up with a wince. My back is killing me, and the shovel in my hand feels like it’s doubled in weight since this morning.
“You did good,” Emma says, her grin softening as we trudge back toward the cache. “First day’s always the worst. How many did you plant?”
“660,” I admit, trying not to sound completely defeated—even though I know it’s a rookie number.
Emma lets out a low whistle. “Not bad for your first day.”
I narrow my eyes. “How many did you plant today?”
Emma hesitates like she doesn’t want to crush me. “Soleil, come on. Numbers don’t matter yet. You’re just getting started. It takes time?—”
“How many?” I press.
She sighs.
“How. Many?”
“1,750.”
I stop, staring at her like she just told me she ran to camp and back for fun. “Emma, what the hell? You made it sound like you weren’t fast. That’s insane!”
She shrugs, smirking a little. “I’ve been doing this for a while, okay? And I wasn’t lying earlier. I’m not the fastest planter here—Jessie probably would’ve doubled that.”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “Oh, Gabe, I’ll never be that fast,” I mock, batting my lashes dramatically. Then I drop my voice low, mimicking him. “I’m your daddy now.”
Emma bursts out laughing, nudging me with her shoulder. “You sound just like him,” she giggles, falling into step beside me. There’s a warmth in her expression—like she’s proud we both survived the day. Walking like this, side by side, feels oddly comforting.
As Emma stops to retie her shoelace, I blurt out, “So, have you and Gabe ever…”
She straightens up, one eyebrow raised. “Hook up?”
I twist my shovel awkwardly in my hands, trying to sound casual. “Yeah?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, God, no. I mean, yeah, he’s handsome, but he’s not my type. And honestly? I don’t think I’m his type anyway. Actually, I don’t even know if he has a type. I’ve never seen him with anyone here, except maybe Jessie.” She pauses, lowering her voice like she’s letting me in on a secret. “There’s this rumour they had a thing one summer when they both planted, but it’s all hearsay. I wasn’t around back then.”
“Is she planting this year?”
“She’s supposed to be showing up today. You’ll meet her. She’s tall, blond, gorgeous… athletic. Volleyball star, track star, probably could have been a model if she wanted to. She’s amazing at everything—except being personable.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a highballer. Some highballers are decent people who are here for the money but still get along with the crew and don’t panic when things go to shit. She is not one of those people. She can get really pissy when things don’t go her way.”
“Oh…”
“But she works her ass off. If I had a crew, I’d want her on mine.”
I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to comment on Jessie’s character. “So… she and Gabe?”
Emma shrugs. “Rumour is they almost hooked up—or maybe they did one party night. Depends on who you ask. But whatever it was, it didn’t last past that season. By the time I got here, he was her foreman, and he’s not the type who likes planter drama on his crew.”
My shovel clinks against a rock as we pick our way along a narrow trench that leads towards the truck. “So Jessie was on his crew last year?”
“And the year before. Now she’s on Logan's crew. She is going to be pissed when she finds out. I’m not looking forward to how she’s gonna react. She would’ve killed to stay with Gabe. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s a great foreman. And she’s probably got a thing for him still.”
I grimace. “So you’re saying she’s probably going to hate me for taking her spot.”
“She might. Just stay out of her way and you’ll be fine.”
“Well, shit. I didn’t come here to ruffle any feathers. I can go to Logan's crew if that helps. It doesn’t bother me much,” I lie, because I’d rather stay with Emma on Gabe’s crew, but I want to be the bigger person.
She glances at me, smiling. “No. You’re staying put. Don’t overthink it. I’m sure it’ll blow over quickly once Jessie starts pounding. And besides, I like having you on our crew this year. Jessie was no fun because she was always in highballer mode, so I’d have no other girl to chat with during cache breaks, and there’s only so many gross poop stories from the guys I can take before my brain starts to rot. I’m glad Gabe picked you over Jessie.”
“Yeah, me too.”
A flicker of unease nudges at the back of my mind. Gabe had said Jessie’s me-first attitude rubbed people the wrong way. But seriously—would he really ditch his top planter just because of a personality clash? Or was there more to it?
“What’s with all the Gabe questions, by the way? Trying to clear the field for your own shot at him?”
“What? No!” My cheeks burn so hot I’m surprised steam isn’t coming off them. “He’s a dick! He stinks like campfire smoke and diesel, and I’m pretty sure he took a dump somewhere in my section—thank God I haven’t come across it yet. Can you imagine if I’d stood up and seen him mid-act? I’m traumatized just thinking about it. And don’t even get me started on how I became the unwilling recipient of his, uh, butt-heat transfer this morning.” I crinkle my nose for effect.
Emma practically doubles over laughing. “Oh, come on! Those seats are ice-cold in the morning. He was doing you a favour. Butt-warming Prince Charming, at your service. He’s flirting with you.”
“No. He’s tormenting me.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Mark my words—you’re gonna end up in his SUV by the end of the summer, wrapped up in his hairy-ass bushman arms and getting your mound pounded.” She bursts out laughing, which sets me off too. Now we’re both just losing it over the absolute absurdity of the image.
Me? With him?
I would never .
In the distance, I spot Gabe standing by the driver’s side door of his truck. He leans in through the open window, watching us with that focused look of his—then he blasts the horn, loud and sharp, making both of us jump. The echo hangs in the air for a moment.
“Come on, ladies, pick up the pace!” he calls, his voice carrying just enough smugness to make me want to throw something at him.
“Oh yeah, real charming, that one,” I mutter to Emma, nudging her with my elbow.
We keep walking, but just slow enough to make him flinch. Casual, no rush. I swear I see him shift on his feet, clearly annoyed, though there’s a flicker of amusement in the way he leans back and waits.
By the time we get to the truck, he’s already hopped in, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He checks the mirrors, and we make eye contact as I approach the truck, and I swear I catch a faint smile tugging at his lips like he’s low-key enjoying this.
We toss our bags and shovels into the back with a satisfying thud, then round to the side of the truck and climb in, brushing off the smug little grin I catch just before I shut the door.
“You hit a thousand today?” Gabe asks casually, glancing over as I settle into my front seat spot.
I wipe a streak of dirt off my face. “Nope.”
“Huh. Most rookies do their first day,” he says with a smirk that immediately sets me on edge. “That’s too bad.” Before I can fire back, he hollers toward the back seat. “Hey, Jake, still a chance, buddy!”
Jake pops his head up from writing something on his tally sheets. “You owe me a hundy if it happens.”
“A chance for what?” I ask.
“The bet,” Gabe says, so casually. “Jake thought you’d quit after one day. Dan gave you ten.” He pauses just long enough to let the words sink in. “We’re taking wagers on how long you’ll last.”
“You’re betting on me?” Fury bubbles up in my chest, and I glare at him, barely able to keep my voice steady. “And what about you, Mr. Foreman? What did you bet?”
He doesn’t answer, but the slow smirk creeping across his face says it all. He’s loving this.
“You’re such an ass,” I snap, my voice shaking with anger.
Emma nudges me with a laugh as she slides into her seat. “Relax. They bet on all the rookies. Jake bet one week on me last year. Look who won.”
Gabe shrugs, still smirking. “It doesn’t matter what I think. But if you want to prove Jake wrong, make it past today.”
I buckle my seat belt with way more force than necessary, shooting him another glare. “You’re about to lose a pile of money.”
He shifts into Drive, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Nope. I don’t think I will,” he says, hitting the gas.