Chapter 22
My whole body feels like it was put into a mixer and continuously stirred for hours, which isn’t too far from the truth.
The last few days, I replaced Hazel on the tractor that’s pulling the cherry harvester.
The machine shakes the fruits from the trees, the constant motion making my arms and legs feel weak after a day spent in the driver's cabin, so I'm glad that today is the last day—for this year, at least.
All the first-class fruit has been handpicked, and this is the last load of cherries that will go into the juicers.
There's a short pause while the conveyor belt finishes funneling the last cherries into the boxes, which are then packed into the back of a truck.
Hazel settles in next to the cherries while Mom drives the truck back to the farmhouse.
I watch them disappear around the next turn, though I make no move to follow just yet.
It's best to wait until the way is clear so I can have the tractor pull the harvester straight into the garage.
I’m also hoping that Micah might be amongst the group returning from the orchards and that we can steal a few moments together.
Ever since we arrived, the work hasn’t gotten any easier. If anything, seeing the end of the season approach turned it into a frenzied run against the sun, which steadily beat down on the fruit, threatening to turn it. Because of that, our studying has suffered a bit.
A short while later, Aspen passes me in another tractor, pulling a wagon with neatly arranged baskets of the deep red cherries from the trees farther back. Two men are sitting next to them. I think it’s her and Hazel’s husbands, but I cannot tell for sure.
I’m about to accept that I missed Micah when there’s a short, admiring whistle from right outside my tractor's cabin.
“Whoa, didn’t know you could drive such a monster.” Micah gives the harvester a thorough once-over before he looks up at me.
“Oh, c’mon, it’s not a monster.” I snort as I push open the door.
Micah hesitates, and I reach across to the dashboard to turn off the engine.
With the golden light making his skin glow and drawing gorgeous shadows along his sculpted muscles, Micah looks even hotter than usual.
He has his Badgers cap pulled deep into his face, so that I can only see his eyes glinting out from under the shield.
“Kinda hot,” he says, arms stretching out to hold on to the sides of the cabin, left and right from me.
“Y—huh?” I cut myself off from agreeing with him when the weather was probably not at all what he meant. Predictably, heat rises into my cheeks. As if the air weren’t warm and sticky enough already!
“I could show you if you want?” I offer, rubbing my palms against the loose shorts I’m wearing. Despite barely leaving the cabin, I’ve gotten some smears of dirt and engine grease on my arms and bare legs.
“Are you sure?” he asks, but already sets one foot on the lowest step leading up to the machine.
“Yeah, c’mon!” I repeat, pulling myself out of the driver’s seat with the help of the overhead handholds.
Micah climbs up another two steps, his hands curled around the top edge of the cabin as he leans forward and into the small space. “Really?”
Now that he’s so close, I can see his flushed cheeks, though I’m not sure if that’s my wishful thinking or because he got a little too much sun today.
No matter, his eyes are shining with excitement, and I simply cannot resist seizing this moment.
Once we’re back at the farm, there’ll be a million other things that need doing, but right now there’s only Micah, this tractor, and an open field.
“Of course!” I pat the backrest of the seat, shifting my weight to get out of the way so Micah can sit down. Once he’s settled, I reach over his shoulder to turn the key again. The engine rumbles to life, and the shaking restarts.
“Okay, so you have the gears on your right, those pedals are forward and backward,” I explain, reaching down to nudge Micah’s hand and knee.
He nods, then the tractor jumps as he shifts his feet. I snicker and push down on his leg, pulling the gear back into neutral.
“Easy.” I squeeze my other arm under Micah’s to point to his left side. “There’s the clutch and another shift there. That’s where you basically shift up the output of the engine, depending on the machines you’re pulling.”
We’ll only be going a couple of yards, and the stretch of grassy pathway ahead of us is free and open, nothing to worry about, but still, I hover close.
Micah curls his fingers around the different shifts as I talk him through how to work the tractor. He nearly kills the engine as he hits the pedal too hard, making the machine jump forward again.
I bump my chin against his shoulder, both of us laughing.
On his next attempt, Micah manages to get the tractor moving smoothly along the cherry trees, and I smack one hand against the roof of the tractor to cheer for him.
“That’s so cool!” Micah’s eyes are gleaming. He takes us a few more rows down, then gently stops the vehicle. It ambles for a moment before Micah turns the key. Quiet falls over us, only interrupted by the ticking of the cooling engine.
“When did you learn to drive this?”
“Dad taught all of us as soon as we were big enough to reach the pedals,” I explain, carefully standing up again. My back hurts after sitting all day. Sweat trickles down my neck from being so close to Micah in the cramped space.
Totally worth it, though.
Especially when Micah tips his head back to look at me. Unbidden, my eyes trail down the tendons of his neck as they stretch.
Beads of sweat glisten on his skin. One slides down, briefly resting in the hollow of his throat before it disappears under the loose neckline of his tank top. I swallow reflexively, caught off-guard by the sudden urge to chase that little droplet with my tongue.
“Did—uhm. You did great!”
“Yeah?” Micah’s lips curl into a smile that looks more lopsided from my angle. “Gonna tell me again what a good boy I am?”
“Do you want me to?” I only realize how close we are when Micah’s soft exhale brushes my throat.
He presses his lips against my chin first, then the corner of my mouth, turning it into a sloppy kiss.
The angle is off, with Micah still halfway upside down, and me not knowing how to make up for that.
My arms tangle with his, searching for something to hold on to—until Micah wins out and pulls me into his lap.
It’s not a smooth, romantic transition in the slightest: I stumble and trip, then land sideways on Micha’s knees rather than his thighs.
Reflexively, I reach out to curl one arm around his neck, the other reaching behind me to prevent sliding to the floor.
I catch the steering wheel—at the same moment, Micah pulls my right leg across.
I huff, leaning backward so that I don’t accidentally knee him in the stomach.
Expecting him to let go of me, I’m surprised to feel Micah’s hands lingering on my thighs.
His fingers rub along my pale skin, tickling the fine hairs growing there.
Then he pulls me even closer until I have to spread my legs wide to straddle him.
“What—” I groan when Micah only grins at me—and then tenses his thighs to push his hips upward, rubbing up against me. I rush to free a hand and clasp it in front of my mouth, but too late; the noise I made bounces around the cabin.
“Re-really? Here?!”
“Why not? Just like chapter 26.” Micah’s eyes gleam over his flushed cheeks.
“Wow, that book really hooked you, hm?” I’m aware that I’m babbling, but I also cannot stop.
His bulge rubs against the inside of my thighs, scrambling my thoughts.
A shudder races down my spine, and I shimmy on Micah's lap.
I must have done something right with my unintentional movements because his fingers tense, digging into my legs.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, scooting me closer again. “Come here.”
I laugh at his demand, since I literally already am right there, but when Micah wraps his arm around the small of my back and pulls me flush against his chest, I have to admit that it's much better like this, with his breath against my cheeks, our bodies sliding together.
“Better now?” I'm still grasping for the right words, but these ones practically offer themselves up, eager to be whispered against his lips.
“Linden,” Micah moans, sliding our mouths together in short, open kisses that leave room for both of us to gasp for air. “Stop talking.”
I nod, biting my lip as I focus on alternating between arching and rounding my back to keep moving in short little bursts.
Despite the limited movement, it feels incredible to rub my trapped erection against Micah's abs and chest, the answering hardness in his pants pushing against the back of my balls through my shorts.
It’s almost like that first time in my truck behind the bar, except it also isn’t like that at all.
The sun might be setting, but it’s light enough to see everything, and we’re not safely hidden away in the backseat of my truck; we’re sitting in a half-open tractor cabin in the middle of my family’s orchard.
Maybe it’s the thrill of being so exposed, or it’s because of the way Micah’s hands are pushing and pulling at me, moving me however he wants, that heightens every sensation.
It makes it much easier for me to chase my own pleasure.
I bite off another groan when I push down in the exact moment that Micah bucks his hips upward, swallowing the noise quickly so I can take a big, shuddering breath.
Micah’s hand catches my chin, turning my face up so that I’m looking at him instead of down between us. “Not…not what I meant,” he gets out, his thumb tracing my lower lip before he leans in for another kiss.
He tastes of heat and sun and of cherries, like he absorbed their sweetness. Although it’s been two weeks of nonstop cherries everywhere, I crave their taste like this, chasing it and licking it out of Micah’s mouth.