Chapter 25
CHAPTER
After emptying the shed and sourcing tables and benches online from a local business, Cruz turned to the more pressing matter of finding new buyers for the farm’s avocados.
The local growers’ association seemed the best place to start and the resources on their website blew him away.
But after calling several of the companies listed and not getting further than the receptionist making bookings to meet with buyers, his frustration grew.
He should’ve known the old boys’ club mentality hadn’t changed.
When he’d finished high school, his father had dragged him along to a growers’ association meeting and he’d been bored out of his brain, watching a bunch of farmers try to one-up each other with tall tales and boasts of how much their last harvest yielded.
Even Mac had become animated among that group, shaking hands and back slapping with the best of them, and unfortunately, it looked like Cruz might have to do the same.
Grimacing, he popped the date for the next meeting into his phone and stood, needing a break from the computer.
Pruning had always worked off his frustrations in the past but as he strolled outside and glanced at the studio, he could think of a better way.
He’d heard El’s car pull up about fifteen minutes ago and before he could second-guess his intentions, he strode to her door and knocked on it.
When she opened it and caught sight of him, her face lit up, and something in the vicinity of his heart twanged. He’d never had a woman look at him the way El did, and rather than the novelty terrifying him, he wanted to drag her into his arms and squeeze her tight.
‘Hey,’ he said, unexpectedly tongue-tied as he struggled to explain why he’d knocked on her door.
‘Is it time for our next tour?’ She leaned on the door, her blue eyes boring into him with the intensity of a laser, as if she could slice right through his excuses and get to the truth: that he wanted to be invited in and have a repeat of last night.
‘No, I’ve got some pruning to do first.’ He settled for a little honesty. ‘I’ve been scoping out potential buyers for our produce and it’s frustrating, because they’re a close-knit bunch with Rottweiler receptionists as gatekeepers.’
She laughed and his tension instantly eased. ‘Hang in there. Once I pull together a complete campaign for this place, you’ll have them breaking down your door, wanting to buy your avocados.’
‘Hope so.’
‘Actually, that’s what I’m working on right now.’
He got the message. Walk away and leave her alone. The only logical thing to do. Then why did he want to pick her up, back her into the room and kick the door shut?
‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Just wanted to check in.’ Hell, could he sound any lamer?
‘I’ll consider myself checked.’ She licked the tip of her finger and made a tick sign in the air, oblivious to how badly he wanted to lick her all over. ‘Once I’m done, I’ll come find you, okay? There are a few things I want to discuss.’
‘No worries.’
But as he walked away, Cruz knew he’d lied, because his disarming yearning for El had WORRY stamped all over it.
So much for easing his frustration by seeing her.
If anything, his angst had increased, and he jogged to the machinery shed, grabbed the biggest shears he could find and began hacking at overgrown trees.
Slashing at dead branches soothed him, and he fell into a rhythm, appeased by the mindless repetition.
He remembered the first time he’d done this under the watchful eye of his father.
‘Now listen up, son. When pruning mature trees, don’t remove more than a third of a branch at a time.
Cut just above the node, that point on the stem where a branch grows.
Make sure you keep the centre of the tree open to light to discourage fungal diseases.
Don’t prune too much, because it can reduce flowering, and be mindful that heavier pruning should only be done in late winter or early spring, but light pruning can be done all year round.
And remember, for older trees, prune some of the oldest branches every year to encourage new growth. ’
Cruz could hear Mac’s voice in his ear so clearly he had to blink several times to bring himself back to the present.
The only time he’d felt remotely close to his dad was when Mac would instruct him on aspects of farming, and while he resented being stuck here at a time when he would’ve rather been following his passion for cooking, he’d also respected his father for taking the time to teach him despite Mac knowing his son had zero interest in carrying on the family legacy.
Sweat poured off him as he gathered the branches and stacked them in a neat pile, going back and forth until he’d cleared away his handiwork.
After replacing the shears in the shed, he headed for the pool, eager to cool off.
He used to love swimming laps as a kid, and in his teens, the habit became a combination of burning off energy and staying fit.
His drenched T-shirt stuck to his body and he peeled it off, draping it across the back of a sun lounge before unbuckling his belt, unsnapping his jeans, unzipping, and pushing them down his legs.
It took a while thanks to the sweat and once they finally reached his ankles, he kicked them away and dived into the pool.
As the water enclosed him, the silence deafening, thoughts of El returned and he wondered if he could coax her into taking a moonlight swim later. He could live in hope.
After swimming a few laps underwater, he surfaced to find her staring at him from about ten feet away, her phone raised. He beckoned her over and she sauntered towards him while furiously tapping at her phone.
‘I hope you weren’t filming me like a sick pervert.’ He grinned. ‘Unless it’s for your personal use, then go ahead.’
She laughed. ‘Part of the campaign I’m constructing is to show all aspects of growing avocados, so I may have taken some footage of you pruning the trees and diving into the pool.’
‘How on earth is that going to encourage buyers?’
‘Increased hits on the farm’s social media sites will propel you higher into search algorithms, and that’s what we want, for Kinstead Avocados to pop up on the first page when potential buyers look for fresh produce.
What I’ve posted already has significantly increased traffic to your website and socials. ’
She spoke slower, as if explaining to a child, and he chuckled at the cheeky glint in her eyes.
‘Okay, message received. You stick to doing what Mum hired you to do, I’ll stick to being fodder for your footage.’ He flexed his biceps in a double cobra. ‘Just don’t make it tacky. I have a reputation to uphold.’
‘Trust me, with what I’ve just edited into a reel—’ she waved her phone at him, ‘—the farm’s website hits are about to go through the roof.’
Her gaze wandered to his chest and he lowered his arms, feeling foolish.
‘And for what it’s worth, I think it’s imperative to my creative process that you swim every day.’
With a saucy wave, she walked away, leaving him hot and bothered all over again as he sank beneath the surface, in need of a another cool-down.