9. Avery #2
“That should be everything, Gid. Let me know how you like the new blends. I hope you two have a wonderful night,” Paxton says, patting Gideon on the back and giving me a knowing wink.
I can’t help but notice the way Paxton and Callum smile at each other. There’s clearly something between them, and I make a mental note to ask Gideon about it later. It warms my heart knowing just how many queer couples there are in this area.
After we make it back to Gideon’s farm, we park on the opposite side of the property. Away from the beehives, and sunflower fields, and closer to the orchards. I haven’t been on this side of his land yet. He reaches for two of Paxton’s boxes and leads the way.
When I finally stop appreciating Gideon’s fine ass, I take in my surroundings.
My breath catches in my throat. A grassy path cuts through the rows of trees, illuminated by dozens of twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the wooden branches.
At the end of the path, under a willow tree, is a wooden table.
A single lantern is lit, casting a soft, romantic glow over a spread of food and a chilled bottle of golden mead.
"Gid," I whisper, turning to look up at him. "This is... this is… wow. It's absolutely beautiful. You did all this for me?"
"Mmm,” he hums. “I begged my sister to set up the food when we were on our way," Gideon says, as he guides me toward our seats.
He places the boxes on the table then pulls out my chair for me.
"I wanted it to be quiet. I know your week is full of stress with the designs, and I wanted a place where you could just breathe and relax. "
Fuck. He’s perfect. "Thank you," I say, leaning my elbows on the table and looking at him through the soft flickering light.
Gideon reaches into the box and pulls out several small sample size bottles of mead, his large hands handling the delicate glass. On the table are several small tulip-shaped glasses. He pours the golden liquid into each of the glasses before placing them in front of me and handing me the first one.
It dawns on me then; I’m getting my very own exclusive tasting. I know these meads aren’t cheap, and there’s something awfully intimate knowing that the honey Gideon works hard to harvest is used to make these meads.
Gideon takes a seat next to me, our thighs pressing together. "This first one is a special reserve," Gideon says, holding his glass up. "It’s made exclusively with my blueberry blossom honey we’re trying out. It takes a long time to ferment properly."
I clink my glass against his, taking a slow, cautious sip. The flavor instantly explodes across my tongue. It’s sweet, rich, crisp, and clean, with a distinct, deep undertone of ripe blueberries. "Oh my god. Gid, this is incredible. It tastes like the literal essence of summer."
"It's the bees," Gideon says, a soft, genuine smile touching his lips as he watches my reaction. "They do all the heavy lifting. I just filter the leftovers."
We make our way down the lineup. Gideon explains the history of each honey used in the various meads. We only sample five, so we don’t overwhelm the pallet. When I choose my favorite, Gideon pours me a small glass to sip while he feeds me local fruits from Hayes’s Produce, and fresh cheese.
I never even thought dates like this were real.
I feel like a Greek god, or something. As the night progresses, the initial nervousness between us completely melts away.
We eat the fresh cheese and fruit, the cold mead relaxing my tired muscles far better than any medicine ever could.
I find myself talking a little too loudly while sharing stories about my childhood in Olivia Cove, my obsession with fashion sketches since I was ten, and how terrified I was the day I packed my truck to move to Foggy Basin.
Gideon listens to every single word. He doesn't interrupt; his brown eyes fixed on my lips and face. He laughs when I tell him about a disastrous fashion show I accidentally ruined during my first week at Dee Rama Magazine. And of course, he smiles when I tell him how Ezra became my fashion idol.
But as I look at him across the table, watching the way the dim lantern light catches the strong, sharp lines of his jaw and the soft, incredibly gentle expression in his eyes, a sudden, heavy realization hits me straight in the fucking heart.
This isn't just a fun and flirty fling with a handsome bee farmer. And this sure as hell isn't just a summer romance. No.
Holy shit. I’m falling in love with this man.
The thought should terrify me. I’ve only been in Foggy Basin for a couple of weeks.
My entire career is currently hanging by a thread, waiting for a brutal critique from a man who hates me.
My life is chaotic and uncertain. But looking at Gideon and seeing the devotion and protective strength radiating off him—the fear doesn't come.
Instead, a sense of peace settles over my heart. He's it for me.
But not only that, this town, its people, and the quiet ex-bodyguard in front of me… It’s where I belong. I’m home.
"Avery?" Gideon leans forward across the table, his thick eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Is everything okay? You’ve gone quiet. Is there something wrong?"
"No," I whisper. I reach across the wooden table, sliding my hand over his forearm. His skin is warm, his muscles shifting under my palm. "Everything is perfect, Gid. More than perfect. I was just... thinking."
"About the designs?" he asks.
"No," I say, locking my eyes onto his, hoping he can read the sincerity in my expression. "About us. About Foggy Basin and how glad I am that I moved here. How I want to stay. With you."
Gideon’s breath hitches. His jaw tightens, a sudden, heavy flare of intense desire darkening his eyes. He flips his arm over, his hand instantly gripping mine and squeezing tightly.
"Avery," he groans. His voice drops to a gravelly rumble that makes my stomach do a happy dance. "Don't say things like that unless you mean them. Because when I get a certain idea stuck in my head, I don't let go." Despite his words, he lifts my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
"I want you, Gid. But also, I want you to want me," I whisper, my heart pounding. "And never let go."
Gideon stands up suddenly, his massive frame towering over me in such a way my cock takes notice.
He doesn't say a word. He just reaches down, his strong grip catching my waist, and lifts me effortlessly from my seat. He pulls me flush against his hard chest like I weigh nothing. It’s absolutely crazy.
I never had another man lift me the way he can.
He carries me several feet over to another table I didn’t even notice.
This one’s bare, with nothing but a clean tablecloth on top.
He places me on it like I’m some delicate thing he’s about to feast on.
Fuck. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
We’re hidden in our tiny little pocket of branches and greenery, tucked away from the rest of the world. Gideon slants his mouth down over mine in a deep, breathless, scorching kiss.
This kiss somehow carries the weight of the feelings I just realized I have. It is desperate, possessive, and dizzyingly sweet. He tastes like blueberry mead, and it only adds to my desire.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling us close together.
When the kiss ends, his forehead rests against mine. His soft breaths brush against my cheek and I’m half tempted to keep going. To let him take me right here, out in the open.
"We should go back to your place," Gideon says, voice strained. His chest is heaving against mine. "Or maybe even my place since it’s closer.”
“Why?” I whine.
He chuckles against my lips. “Because if I keep kissing you like this, my sister is going to get too damn curious and come out here. She’s going to see me claim what’s mine."
I shiver. Fuck me.
I let out a breathless laugh, my fingers reaching down to cup the hard bulge in his pants. "Yes, let's go home."