Chapter 9 #2
Zander shook out his suit and folded it carefully. “Between this and the way you tried to bite my head off when I stepped in at the market, I get the feeling you don’t like letting people help you, Penny.”
“Wow, so observant.”
Penny knew that most so-called help was rarely useful.
For her mom, help usually meant chiming in with extra ideas or flighty plans that didn’t materialize while Penny did the grunt work.
And Penny was paying the price, literally, of Henry’s “help” in expanding Becker Farms. Accepting help meant accepting more messes to clean up.
Messes she couldn’t afford when her whole way of life was on the line. And if Zander promised anything, it was mess.
She reached for the suit in Zander’s hands. But when she tugged, he didn’t let go.
“You don’t think I can do it.” He glared at her, dark eyes sharp.
“This place doesn’t let a kid just grow up, does it?
It doesn’t matter to you that I’m actually successful, that I have people blowing up my phone to get me to take on their projects.
It doesn’t matter that this weekend I actually was helpful, even if you’re determined not to admit it.
I’ll never be more to you than that kid who ran away. ”
“Is that what this is about, Zander? Your ego? You’re upset I’m not begging you for your expertise? Does it hurt your feelings to think that I could put together the festival without your know-how?”
“I don’t give a shit about your festival, Penny. But I’m tired of you thinking I’m some kind of fuckup.”
Penny clasped her hands on her hips and stepped closer. “Why do you care what I think?”
Zander laughed but didn’t look happy. He just stared at her, shaking his head. “I wish I knew. I really do.”
He paced away from her, then spun back. “Just do whatever you want. Forget I offered to help. Do everything perfectly all on your own.”
“I will.” Penny yanked off her remaining glove and reached for her zipper.
She would do it on her own, just like she always did.
Even if it meant a lot of sleepless nights for the next few weeks.
Because someone like Zander, for all the magazines he might be in, couldn’t ever understand what this festival meant to her.
“And I’m not perfect,” she added. “But I am reliable, and I know what I’m doing because it’s always come down to me to do it. ”
The clearing was quiet but for the buzz of the bees and the grating of Penny’s zipper. She shrugged the suit off her shoulders, leaving it to hang off her hips as the breeze cooled her arms, left bare in her ribbed white tank. Penny raised her eyes back to Zander, ready for his cutting glare.
But he didn’t look angry anymore. He was focused and intent, his blue T-shirt straining over his chest as his gaze moved over her body. Slowly. Thoroughly, like he was committing something to memory.
In their short interactions, Penny had seen Zander sarcastic and closed-off that first day, then soft and charming with his son and the farmer’s market customers.
She’d seen him curious and cautious with the hive, then tinged with wonder as they watched the bee emerge.
But she hadn’t seen him like this, studying her without pretense.
It made her dizzy, and angry, but also warm and liquid, like the heated honey she poured into her tidy jars.
She resisted the urge to tug at her braid, planting her hands firmly on her hips instead. If this was some intimidation tactic, he’d be sorely disappointed, because Penny never backed down. “What?”
Zander chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t—” Penny stopped as Zander stepped toward her. “What are you doing?”
“I told you.” Leaves crunched under his feet as Zander came closer still. “I don’t have a clue.”
“If you’re trying to play some kind of mental game to get me to back down, you’re out of luck. I’m tougher than that.”
“I know.” His grin widened. “I bet you’re tougher than most people realize. Those pretty braids don’t have me fooled.”
Penny grew traitorously warm, her brain tripping between his throwaway comment about her toughness and the remark about her pretty braids.
Zander’s hand lifted slowly between them, hovering in the air as his gaze trailed up the braid draped over her shoulder.
She should step back, put space between them, but she didn’t.
Whatever game Zander was playing, she’d be there toe-to-toe.
So when his fingers stretched toward her, she only watched as he stopped just before touching her hair, then stood steady as his index finger and thumb rubbed together slowly inches from her.
She sucked in a breath and let it burn her lungs as his eyes raked over her face.
“Penny Becker.” His voice was rough like the tree trunks around them. The kind of rough that felt good on her skin. “You really fuck me up.”
Her breath released, carrying with it an awkward, stilted laugh. His eyes dipped to her mouth, narrowing as she reflexively licked her lips.
“Zander Bouras.” It was barely a whisper. “Likewise.”
And even with the bees buzzing inside her head now, Penny knew it was the first true thing they’d said to each other.
With a sharp inhale, Zander stepped back and cleared his throat. “I better find my kid.”
Penny swallowed and nodded, wondering what in the hell had just happened. “Just follow that path where RJ went. It passes my cabin, then the vegetable garden, then you’ll see the house.”
Zander started his way there, giving Penny a wide berth as he passed. His footfalls stopped for a moment, but she didn’t turn around.
“And Becker.” His voice was smoother now, back to normal. Missing something. “Good luck with your honey festival.”