Chapter 1 #4
“Mmhmm, mmhmm. So, older than you by fifteen years. And is he gay?”
“Um. I think?” I said, confused at this line of questioning. “I mean, I can hardly ask the guy, and he hasn’t introduced me to a boyfriend or anything, but…” I thought back to our first meeting, to that hungry look. “Pretty sure.”
“Well, there you go, then.” Toby audibly swallowed, and I imagined him on his lounge chair, sipping his adult beverage. “Mystery solved.”
“Is it? You’re gonna have to elaborate, Scooby-Doo.”
“He wants you, precious Gagelet,” Toby said simply. “And he’s a cranky asshole because he thinks he can’t have a sweet, young employee like you.”
“Nah.” I shook my head and leaned my shoulder against the wooden fence so I could watch the reddish light of sunset playing over my bedroom window above the gift shop entrance.
“No. That’s stupid, and Knox is not a stupid person.
It’s not the 1900s anymore. Age is relative, especially for hookups.
And I’m a temporary contractor, not an employee. And—”
“Don’t convince me, angel—convince him. And, just some friendly advice, maybe don’t start by slagging on the 1900s,” he added, his voice thick with laughter. “Some of us actually remember parts of that century fondly.”
“I’m not convincing anyone of anything, because you’re wrong. If he was interested in me, really interested, I’d know.” Wouldn’t I?
I thought back to that first moment we’d met, and I wondered.
“Uh-huh. Then forget about Mr. Sexually Frustrated. Tell me about your job search,” Toby demanded. “Do you have any interviews lined up?”
“Nope.” I sighed and launched into an explanation of all the letters of interest I’d sent and how I still hadn’t heard back from any of them. “That’s why I need this job at the orchard,” I concluded. “I need experience.”
“Or you could start your own company,” Toby suggested. “It’s not like you lack startup capital.”
“No, but I lack contacts,” I said impatiently, since we’d had this exact conversation before, more than once. “I lack a real understanding of the market. I don’t want a vanity project. I’m capable of doing things the right way, even if it’s hard.”
“Easy, killer. I hear you,” Toby soothed.
But I wasn’t sure he did. Not really. I wasn’t sure anyone did.
“Don’t take things too seriously, Gagelet,” he continued. “Your time in Vermont was supposed to be partly a vacation. A chance to get all kinds of experience, not just stuff that goes on your resume. Have you done anything fun at all?”
“Uh. Does binging Scandinavian dramas on Netflix count?”
“I’m gonna let you answer that on your own, sweetness. Get out and do something, for heaven’s sake! Find a hot guy. Take some scenic pictures for the ’gram. Tip a cow. Whatever counts for fun up there.”
I shuddered. The very idea of getting close enough to a cow to tip it was horrifying.
But I was pretty sure Toby was right about the rest.
“Thanks, Toby. Love you. Love to everyone, okay?”
“Check in soon, honeybunch.”
Once we disconnected, I took a deep breath and logged in to Grindr, which I probably should have done the second I reached the Vermont border.
No wonder I was so out of sorts. I needed sunshine and loud music. I needed to stop trying to impress the unimpressible Knox with my work ethic and remember all the reasons I was here.
I’d just started scrolling when a shuffling noise behind me in the empty yard startled the hell out of me. I whirled around and threw my phone like a projectile at the shadowy figure looming in the half darkness.
“Jesus Christ, Goodman!” Knox easily batted the phone away, and it landed on the ground with a bounce. “It’s bad enough Emma sent me out here like your personal servant to fetch you in to dinner. Now you’re attacking me?”
“You loomed at me!” I cried. “You crept up behind me and loomed.”
“I didn’t creep. I was specifically trying not to interrupt your conversation, if you were still on the phone. That’s what we call politeness.” He rolled his eyes. “Now get your damn phone and come eat before all the burgers are gone.”
I looked from the farmhouse—where the food was—to my phone, lying face-up and still shining on the far side of the fence—where the cows were—and bit my lip.
Knox folded his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to call it back to you with the power of your mind?”
“No! I’m… I’m strategizing.”
“Strategizing. M’kay. I’ll let the others know your plate is up for grabs.” He turned on his heel and walked two paces, but when I didn’t follow, he groaned and walked back to me like it was literally costing him two arms and a leg to do it. “Fine, then. What are you strategizing?”
“We don’t have cows where I’m from. I mean, we do. Obviously, there are cows in Florida. But I’ve never had to meet one. So I’m trying to think about the best way to get the phone back… but, like, respectfully.”
“Respectfully?” He tilted his head and looked at me fully.
“You know.” I swallowed. “Being respectful of the animal’s territory. Not provoking the predators to aggression.”
Knox rubbed his palm over his mouth. “You… are aware that cows are vegetarians?”
I blinked. “Obviously, yes.” No. I’d had no idea. “But they could still gore me.” I made horns on the top of my head in demonstration.
He made a strangled sound. “Is it true that you graduated at the top of your class in college?”
“Yes, but I don’t think my intelligence is going to keep them from stampeding me, Knox.” I rolled my eyes. Now he wanted to do the whole getting-to-know-you thing? The man had shit timing.
Knox closed his eyes and shook his head slowly before opening them again. “Okay, brainiac, here’s a lesson in cows. First, cows are female. They don’t have horns. A bull might chase you. A single cow generally will not, unless she’s got a calf she’s protecting or you act particularly stupid.”
“Hey! Unfair.”
“For example, this cow here—” he went on, motioning behind me.
I twisted my neck and saw an enormous bovine face mere inches from mine. “Gah! No! Go ’way!” I yelled, jumping around Knox so I could use him as a human shield. My heart beat wildly in my chest.
Knox looked back over his shoulder at me, and the muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Excellent example of stupid behavior. As I was saying,” he went on mildly, “this cow is Stella. She’s maybe a week away from going into labor, so she’s not chasing anything these days except a decent night’s sleep.
Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward the fence before I could stop him and rubbed the top of her head.
Stella gave a little huff that might have been agreement… or a warning of an attack.
But Knox didn’t seem to recognize the danger because, after another over-the-shoulder look at me, he reached right through the slats of the fence, picked up my phone, and handed it to me. His fingers brushed my palm, and it felt like I’d stolen something—a little illicit and a little delightful.
“Still working?” He nodded down at the device.
“Huh? Oh. Screen looks fine.” I unlocked it… and gave both of us an eyeful of my Grindr “nearby” dashboard before I immediately turned the phone off again and shoved it in the pocket of my shorts.
Damn it.
I felt my face going hot for no good reason. Who cared if I had Grindr? Who cared if I was chatting with a million guys?
He wants you, precious Gagelet.
Except he didn’t.
“Er… yeah. Seems no worse for wear,” I said belatedly.
“Uh-huh.” There was a distinct thread of amusement in Knox’s voice, which gave me all kinds of conflict-y feels. “Now can we eat?”
I nodded silently. My cheeks burned as I followed Knox to the house and then into the big kitchen with its hardwood floors, white cabinets, butcher block counters, and giant oak farmhouse table.
Sally Ann, the Sundays’ golden retriever, shook herself up off the floor and showed her love for Knox by nearly tripping him.
“Evening, Gage,” Uncle Drew said cheerfully from his spot at the head of the table.
He had his broken ankle propped up on the bench next to him, but otherwise the man was so healthy and fun, he could have passed for Knox’s slightly older brother…
if Knox had exponentially less hair, significantly more belly, and a penchant for Jerry Garcia T-shirts. “You remember Marco, right?”
“Sure. Hey, Marco,” I said with a smile.
Marco, who was Drew’s absolute inverse with his thick, dark hair, deep-set laugh lines, lean frame, and sometimes fussy nature, smiled back a little primly.
Knox and I took turns washing our hands at the sink, and then I sat down while Knox hung back for a moment, leaning against the counter.
“You coming?” Webb gave Knox a look of concern. In his blue Sunday Orchard T-shirt that strained across his biceps, he was every inch a farmer and caretaker of both humans and animals. “All good?”
Knox shook his head like he was coming out of a trance.
“Yeah, I guess. Depends on your definition of good. Narrowly saved your new employee from being attacked by Stella,” Knox said blandly, taking the seat opposite him.
He stroked a hand over his beard. “Almost got impaled by a phone in the process.”
I rolled my eyes and took the guest chair at one end of the table, and Uncle Drew winked at me from the other end.
Hawkins, the Sunday brother closest to my age, elbowed Knox lightly. “Don’t tease Gage about the cows. Imagine if you had to go to Florida and live with alligators,” he said earnestly. “It’s the same for Gage coming here.”
“Thanks, Hawk.” I appreciated his defense too much to point out that most Floridians didn’t actually attempt to corral and domesticate alligators. Let alone milk them.