Chapter 28 Becoming An Addiction
BECOMING AN ADDICTION
“You’ve got a visitor.”
Clay was in his office when one of his men popped his head in three days later. “What?”
“There is a woman down there looking for you. She didn’t give her name.”
His office was on the upper level, allowing him to look down on production if he wanted to but not see the front entrance.
He switched the screen on his computer and looked at the camera to see Meredith in another one of her long cotton dresses, this time red. She had white and red little sneakers on her feet.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her big bag on her shoulder that held her wedding binders, her body almost not able to bear the weight.
They did nothing more than text a few times since he walked out of her place on Monday feeling more relaxed than he had in years.
The fact she knew he needed to think and have space might be more terrifying than the grip she had on him.
He went down the stairs to the front area.
She turned, a smile on her unpainted lips.
All he wanted to do was grab that dress and yank it up to see the treasures under it again.
She was becoming an addiction he wasn’t going to be able to manage.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too,” she quipped. “Come give me a kiss. Or are you too afraid someone might see you being human?”
He snorted, but complied. “Now what are you doing here?”
“I’m meeting a coworker to show them the barn for a wedding.”
“Oh. Did I know that?”
“You mean did I send you an email that you didn’t read?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he said. “That.”
“No,” she said, grinning. “This was a last-minute thing. It’s a teacher at the middle school.
She reached out and said that her fiancé had time today to look at the barn if I could squeeze it in.
You have an event there this weekend. I didn’t think you’d mind.
But I’ve got time and wanted to say hi.”
Meredith could get into the barn without him. She had the security codes. There was no reason she shouldn’t.
If he trusted her in his bed, he trusted her as an employee to do her job. She needed access for that.
“Hi,” he said.
She gave his arm a little nudge over his joking reply. “Can you show me around? I don’t know much about what you do, just what I like to drink.”
He took the bag off of her shoulder and set it on the floor in the corner by the stairs. It’d be fine and no reason for her to trip over her own two feet with the weight of it.
“No drinking on the job today,” he said. “Because I don’t want you slurring your words with potential clients.”
“Hey,” she said. “Maybe we can try that another night then.”
He sent her a wink. “Come on back where everything is done.”
They walked to the production area. He introduced her to the men working. He had ten right now. There was cider in all stages in different areas from fermentation, to carbonation, even canning.
“I won’t ask you to give me an explanation of how you do it. I won’t understand it anyway.”
“It’s not that hard,” he said. “You need apples and yeast. Then add other flavors as you go. Sugars, honey, spices. Things like that. The rest is kind of time. That’s the condensed version.”
“You make it sound as if you stir it and put it in a can and wait a few days, then pop it open.”
“Something like that,” he said, his hand on her lower back as they walked.
He’d been perfecting his base recipe for years. Sneaking it as a kid and getting in trouble.
It was paying off for him now.
“How are the flavors coming from the apples on the farm? The limited edition ones?”
“They aren’t ready yet. I’ll know more in a few weeks.”
“What if they aren’t good?” she asked, frowning.
“They will be. I’m not worried.”
She nodded. “I like how cocky you are,” she whispered.
“Good thing, because it’s not changing.”
“I wouldn’t want to change anything about you.”
That was a first coming out of a woman’s mouth around him.
“We store our apples in the cellar,” he said. They moved outside and the doors were open as the men were gathering what was needed for the mash.
“That’s a lot of apples,” she said. “The trees still had a bunch on them when I drove through.”
“This is the delivery I got today. Not the ones from the farm. We’ll be picking more this week.”
“Can I eat one of those?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, pulling one out of the bin close by. “If you couldn’t, then I wouldn’t be able to use them.”
She bit into it. “It’s not as good as yours. What kind is this?”
“McIntosh,” he said. “It’s what I use the most.”
“Yeah, not as good. Yours are sweeter.”
He laughed. “I thought so too. That’s where the sugars come into play to get it right.”
“And why you get a bellyache if you taste too much?”
“Shhh,” he said, taking her arm and bringing her back in.
She laughed. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“You know, you should sell your products here at the mill. Or better yet, the cafe.”
“I’ve thought of it,” he said. “I don’t have staff to sit around watching for people to come in. Nor do I want customers moving around the building and getting hurt looking for staff.”
“You’re talking about me, aren’t you?”
“Not today I’m not,” he said, tapping her on the nose.
He was almost appalled over that move, but it made her smile. It wasn’t what he was going for. He just wanted to touch her.
To say he missed her from his bed the past few days was an understatement.
He wouldn’t admit it to anyone.
Whatever they had wasn’t deep enough for him to confess much more than he had.
“Not as much as you used to do,” he said.
“I’ve got my feet under me more. I think I do more tripping when I’m in a hurry or my mind is on multiple things at once.”
She reached for his hand and touched it. Not threading their fingers together. That was fine with him. He wasn’t the holding-hands type of guy.
“You slept okay last night?”
“I did,” she said. “It’s been nice to be in my bed. A little lonely but still nice.”
He wouldn’t address that. They had plans for her to come to his place tomorrow night and stay for the night. He’d stay at her place on Saturday after the event was done. He was going to her parents’ for dinner on Sunday. Not something he was looking forward to, but he had to give a little.
“No problems?”
“Nope,” she said. “It’s all good. I’m sure it was just kids or something. At least I want to think that way.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t push it off.”
“If you get me too worked up, I’m not going to want to stay there alone. Is that what you want?”
Clay didn’t know what he wanted.
He wanted her aware, but not scared. He wasn’t sure he was so ready to have her underfoot all the time and felt like a dick even thinking that.
But she’d only been in his life for about five weeks. It felt like so much longer with what they’d experienced together last weekend.
“No. When is your coworker coming?”
She looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes. I’ve got time. You know, if you don’t want to sell the cider here, how about the cafe? Doesn’t your mother have it on the menu for lunch when they are serving there?”
“It is,” he said. “But I don’t need my mother and Reenie being busier than they are to come out and man the register all the time if people came in.”
Though he had thought of it. He just didn’t want to put more on his mom than he already had.
“I could help on the weekends if there aren’t events. Or the summer. It’s not like I’m doing much more than wedding stuff, but if they are busy for a few hours a day, it’s just ringing people up, right? It’d be fun.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll think about it.” He couldn’t let his mind plan that far in advance. “I’ll talk to my mother and Reenie this weekend and get their thoughts.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with starting slow.
You don’t even have to advertise it, but have it there for customers.
Or, think of how much busier the cafe could get.
People could come to get the cider and grab some sweets while they were at it.
You could have specials. Or donuts made with the same flavors as the cider. Cookies. Things like that.”
He sighed. “You’re all about those things, aren’t you?”
“It’s fun,” she said, bumping her hip into his. “It’s not like I’m saying I’d make some glitter signs.”
“No,” he said. “I’m drawing the line at glitter.”
“I’m just picking on you,” she said. “And I should go meet Jennifer.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Don’t you trust me to get in myself without setting off the alarms? Or are you afraid I’ll drop something on my foot? Maybe do a face plant?”
“Could be any of those things,” he said. “Or I could want to spend a few minutes watching you work. Sometimes the guys like to talk about the bar.”
“Awww, you missed me, didn’t you?”
“Go,” he said, nudging her arm ahead of her.
She giggled and the sound didn’t even annoy him.
She grabbed her bag and walked to her SUV, him climbing in with her.
“You’re going to let me drive you? Wow! What if I hit a hole and get a flat tire? Or my steering could break and I’ll hit a tree.”
“Now you’re just trying to get me to laugh.”
“No,” she said. “I’m trying to make light of all my mishaps. We know there are a lot of them.”
“Drive and put a lid on it.”
She started her SUV and pulled out. She had to slam on the brakes when someone from the cafe pulled out in front of her. His hands went to the dashboard.
She was a walking target for calamities.
They parked and he let out a breath.
“You won’t let me drive with you again, will you?”
“I can take over that task from now on,” he said. “I might have gotten whiplash on my own property.”
She shrugged. “You make me nervous.”
“Since when?” he asked.
“You used to,” she said. “Now not the same way. I guess I’m always afraid you’re going to judge me.”
He sighed. “I don’t judge you.” He nodded for her to punch in the code to get in. “Go on.”
She did it without setting off the alarms. His phone went off, showing someone accessing it and he pushed the notification aside.
“Maybe not judge, but you’re just waiting to save me from something.”
“Hard not to when it’s all I’ve known of you.”
“Until recently,” she said.
“Until recently,” he agreed.
“Now I think you’re afraid you’ve got to save yourself from me.”
She flipped the lights on when she said that, turned to look at him and held his stare.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. Which was a hard task there.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me either,” she said. “But I’m more afraid that it’s going to be me hurting you.”
Sadly, he felt the same way.