Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
KIRA
FIREFLIES
He staggered a little, then shook his head. “One of these times we’re going to pass out in this heat.”
“Worth it.” I leaned back on the bench, wincing a little when a cup rolled against my wrist and the heel of my palm landed in something sticky. “We kinda made a mess.”
“We sure did. Don’t move.” He pinched his fingers around the base of his cock and pulled free of me, holding onto the condom. “No elegant way to do this one either.”
I laughed as he waddled backwards, his pants down around his knees. I let my head fall back as I swung my feet, content to get a little air on my overheated skin from the fan above. And there was no harm in enjoying the flashing bug butts once more. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.
“Sunshine, you destroy me.”
When I focused on him again, he was already making his way across the room.
He disappeared into the back, returning with towels and what looked like a shirt.
Unfortunately, his pants were zipped, but they were still unbuttoned.
Damn distracting man. His hair was massive after I’d gotten my hands in it, his curls expanding in the humidity.
Now, I could see exactly why he used braids to tamp it down. I suppose cutting it would be smart, but I wasn’t mad that he didn’t.
Mercy, he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen up close and in real life. The fact that he wanted me so much was confounding as much as it was amazing.
I loved that he made me feel so sexy. Here I was, post sex blissed out with all the hormones making me stupid and I still hadn’t jumped off the bench to cover up.
I hissed out a breath as he stood in front of me and dragged the cool towel over my thighs, nudging me open wider. That he didn’t just throw the towel at me, but instead cleaned me up gently made my heart trip and my chest tighten.
“I can do that.”
“Let me take care of you.”
My breath stalled in my chest, but I let him. I lifted a hand to his curls as he diligently cooled me down with the towel.
He leaned down to kiss me lightly. The tiniest slip of tongue at my lower lip. “I missed you.”
“I was here,” I said quietly.
He cupped my face. “So capable. You astound me with how capable and efficient you are. That you don’t need me.”
I frowned. “I do. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“You could. I’ve been little better than a hired hand lately.” He bent down to grab my shorts and underwear. Instead of handing me both, he tucked my underwear into his pocket. He grinned. “You can have these.”
I snatched my shorts out of his hand. “Gee, thanks.”
He handed me the shirt. “Don’t think you want to try to get back into your sweaty clothes. I won’t even be mad when your spectacular tits stretch out this shirt.” His wolfish smile made me snort.
I quickly tugged the shirt on and gasped as he lifted me off his work bench and gently set me on the floor. I should be used to him picking me up at this point, but it still shocked the hell out of me every time.
I quickly put my shorts on and tried not to focus on the fact that I was going commando under them. Especially when everything was still so sensitive. But the more important issue at hand was how out of sorts Ronan was.
He started picking up the shrapnel of our impromptu…tension breaker. It started out as fucking, but as usual, it never stayed just sex between us. And it always left me unbalanced because I couldn’t stick him in the careful boxes I was used to.
I stilled his hand. “Why do you think you aren’t pulling your weight?”
He braced under my touch, but said nothing.
“I know you’re working in here. The proof is in the massive fermenter back there. What’s the problem you’re having after that?”
“I’ve created four bases from the apples in this orchard. Hell, I even used some pears in one of them.”
Surprise kicked in my belly. “I didn’t realize we still had pear trees.
” It had been one of the experiments in a few of the back acres of the orchard to try other trees.
Unfortunately, pear trees were notoriously prone to bacterial issues and required a lot more work than Beckett was willing to put into them.
He leaned a hip against his workbench and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hayes has been trying to revitalize an older part of the orchard that went dormant.”
“Yeah, I vaguely remember the pears when I worked in the fields. They were too erratic to produce steadily.”
He straightened and went around his bench to a cooler to pull out a jug. He rescued a glass that had rolled to the end of the bench and filled a third of it before he held it out to me.
I took the glass. “I’m not exactly an expert.”
“Maybe that’s what I need.”
I nodded. “All right.” I raised the glass to my nose and the sharp tang of pears made my mouth water. I took a small sip and my eyes widened. It was a bit dryer than I preferred, but the apples and pears were strong and aromatic. Which was saying something since pears were often hard to taste.
I took a larger sip and felt my taste buds lift at the back.
“It’s good, right?”
I met his gaze. “Very. Why are you so worried?”
“Because it’s missing something. I’ve tried to back sweeten it with a few things, but it keeps overpowering the pear.”
I took another drink. “So, why add anything?”
“Maybe a brewer would be excited by it, but the average drinker wouldn’t find it special. They’ll go for a beer instead.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Most beer tastes the same to me.”
“I’ll give you that. But if you tried the microbrews, you’d say there’s a difference. And if we want to build a whole menu around the damn cider, it needs something to make it special.”
The frustration burned in his voice. Was this living under him all this time? And why was he hiding it?
“Okay, I can see that. And the others?”
“I’ve got one final brew. Just no name.”
I chose my words carefully. “Do you think staying in here alone is the answer? If it’s driving you crazy, you might need to share the tastings with oh, I don’t know…the people who want to help?”
“Beckett brought me in here because I’ve got the magic. I’ve always had the ability to find a way around the flavors I’ve been given to make something stellar. I’ve got everything at my fingertips, and I’m sitting in Blandsville, for fuck’s sake.”
My blood hummed at the annoyance in his voice. This was the Ronan I’d been missing. “Maybe you have too many options?”
He leaned toward me. “And maybe I don’t look like I’m worth my paycheck. Why else do you think I’m out there helping? At least I’m useful there.”
Tempered Ronan wasn’t who we needed. Take one for the team, Kira. Time to poke the bear. “Now you’re just pouting.”
He came around the bench and stalked toward me, the lion replaced with aggravated male. “Pouting?”
“Yes, pouting. Instead of coming out and asking for help, you’re hiding away.” I tipped my head to the side, my eyebrow cocked. “Licking your wounds. Poor Ronan can’t do his job.”
He nudged me aside and the heat of his skin made my skin prickle and my heart thump louder. He jerked a box out from under the bench and slammed it on the top. Tongs, beakers, and glasses bounced and clattered.
“I’ve got three dozen styles of honey here.” He went over to the white shelves and came back with another box. “Thirteen different fruits I’ve cooked down to a syrup here.”
Now I noticed his big hands were scarred with burn marks and his arms were splattered with something that looked like one of the syrups. Again he brought more boxes over full of anything from coffee syrups to vinegars until there was a massive pile ready to topple.
“I have all this and no fucking answers.”
“Did you try them all? Or are you just showing me all your discarded toys?”
He stepped to me, his boots a millimeter away from the toes of my sneakers. He towered over me, his ginger scent rolling over me, making me want to soothe. But I couldn’t back down now. He needed the tantrum and maybe I did too.
I tipped my chin up and stared into his dark eyes, a smile pulling at my lips because it was the first time I’d felt alive in days. “You stopped thinking out of the box and instead just are looking for some magic sauce when all you need is to think of what matches the feel you’re looking for.”
“Have you brewed before?” He elbowed one of the boxes that was slipping back onto the top of the chaos. “You don’t know jack shit.”
My nerves jangled, but I knew it was just anger talking. And the anger was what was needed right now. Not handholding. “No, but it sure sounds like you’re being one of those douchey brew guys like Stanford Lang.”
He stepped back like I slapped him. “How the hell do you know that name?”
I shrugged and lifted the box that continued to slip and set it back on the shelf calmly. I needed a second out of his space or I’d do something stupid like climb on him again. Or hug him. “He was who I wanted when I first took this job.”
“He’s an idiot who cares more about some expensive additive than using real flavors.” He fisted his hands at his sides. “You were going to pick that guy over me?”
I lifted one shoulder. “Seemed good at the time.” This time, I was the one who nudged.
Only Ronan acted like Ronan—as I knew he would—and didn’t budge.
I pressed my hip against his thigh as I slid the box of syrups in front of me.
“I mean that’s what we want right? Get the bodies in the taproom. He’s got the flair like Lennon.”
I pulled out each one to read them. Ronan’s bold handwriting was scrawled across each label in black ink.
I almost smiled at how smudged and imperfect they were, much like the man.
Cherries, peaches, raspberries, and pomegranate, and finally, I paused on the blackberries.
I pulled that one out and set it on the bench.
“He’s all show, no substance. He’s just looking for fame. He doesn’t care about the art of it. You really wanted him over me?”
I glanced at him. “I didn’t know you.”
He was practically vibrating beside me. I had to force myself not to smile. Angry Ronan made the air crackle. The light hairs on my arms lifted and the underlying beat of the song playing on his sound system added to the hum. It had switched out from angry dude rock to something bass heavy.
I never knew what would be on his playlists, that was for sure.
“Did you say you’d tried all the honey?”
“What?” His gaze snapped to the box, a frown digging deep between his brows. “Not all of them. I gave up when they all started tasting the same.”
I checked each one, looking for exactly the one I wanted. “Did you know honey takes on the taste of where the bees are located?”
He folded his arms, but didn’t give me space. The fact that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt made it very hard to concentrate.
He growled. “Vaguely.”
Ronan might not know what the quadrants of the orchard meant, but I sure did. I’d been here for over ten years and knew just what I was looking for. First, for me. I pulled out the honey from where my beloved Honeycrisps were grown. The next was where the pears were grown.
I shifted and twisted until I found it. The jar was much smaller since it didn’t require a full hive of bees to pollinate such a small part of the orchard.
But the beekeepers knew their job.
Knew that it was better for the apples to keep the bees separate so they wouldn’t cross pollinate and create hybrid apple trees. The art of an orchard was far more intricate than the average person knew. Even I didn’t know the ins and outs of all the science.
I’d always been better with people. With the running of the orchard. But after ten years, you picked up things whether you specialized in them or not.
I set the smaller jar on his bench. “Try it.”
His eyes narrowed as I nudged the jar closer. My heart fluttered madly in my chest. “What do you have to lose?”