Chapter 15 Dolly
DOLLY
Farmers market Sunday is my favorite day of the week.
I’m loading my jellies and freshly canned pickles into the back of my Bronco when Sam walks out of the house with the biggest box filled with the baked goods.
He stacked the tote bag on top of it. It would’ve taken me two more trips to get it all.
“Um, thanks. Just put them right here.”
I figured he would sleep in on Sunday since he got up early every other morning. This is the only day of the week I’m ever up before the sun.
I adjust my glasses on my nose, wishing I’d worn contacts instead.
“How long is this thing?” he asks.
“With setup and shutdown, about six hours. I’ll be back a little after two.”
His piercing gaze surveys over my outfit, but his expression is unreadable.
I’m wearing a cotton milkmaid dress in a pastel shade of green.
I always like to look cute for farmers market days.
My thick hair is in two French braids with silk bows on each end.
It took forever and my arms hurt, but I’m fully convinced dressing for the occasion is half the fun in life.
He’s wearing a surprisingly casually stylish fit with loose, oversize jeans that aren’t Wranglers and a creamy-white linen button-down with it. He could be sailing on a yacht on the coast of Italy if he only had an Aperol spritz in his hand.
“I’m coming with you, Dollface.”
I know there’s not much of a point in arguing.
Rosie told me another letter came. I’m guessing it wasn’t an apology.
I was too afraid to ask what was in it, and she didn’t seem to want to share.
The guys spent hours in Holden’s man cave talking about it with their cigars and bourbon before Sam drove me back to his ranch in somber silence.
I watched him carefully lock all the doors in the house and carry his rifle upstairs to his bedroom. All he said before I went to bed was for me not to leave the house without telling him.
“You should probably bring a chair.”
I organize the jellies as he grabs one from the back porch and puts it in the back of the Bronco. He steps over to the passenger door. I start moving toward the driver’s side, but he grabs my hand to stop me. The sudden touch of his callous skin makes my heart skip a beat.
He opens the passenger door and holds my hand as I climb up inside, only releasing it once I’m seated.
Our eyes meet briefly before he shuts my door and walks around the car.
I need to breathe into a brown paper bag.
He climbs into the driver’s seat and has to lean down to manually push the seat back almost an entire foot.
“Are you even legally tall enough to drive?”
“I’m five foot two!” Almost. A quarter of an inch shy, but you can round up when you’re that close.
He eyes me like he doesn’t buy it as he turns out onto the main road. “Surely there’s a law against it if you have to be that close to the steering wheel. Can you even see above the dashboard?”
I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I passed my driving test with flying colors. And they measured me for the height on the license.”
He throws his head back in a laugh. Sam’s laughs are rare and precious because he’s usually a grump all the time. I watch the lines beside his eyes crinkle, feeling all the old trickles of desire swirling around inside me.
“They measured you? Baby Red, that’s not normal procedure. They don’t measure people.” He’s still grinning and shaking his head.
The early morning sun shines through the window, bathing him in golden light. I want to run my fingers through the reddish-brown curls at the nape of his neck. I dig my nails into my palms instead.
“I was only sixteen. I still had some growing to do.”
“Hmm, how tall were you then?”
“I was five foot one, I think.”
“And you grew another inch?”
I grind my teeth, nodding.
“A whole inch?”
I roll my head to the side to look at him. “Do you not know how much an inch is?” My voice is sweet.
He tries holding back a smile. “I do, just not sure I believe you’re a full five feet and two whole inches.”
I roll my eyes and focus back on the road. We’re pulling up to the market. Sam drives into the parking lot and finds us a space.
“It’s an easy thing to settle. I have a tape measure back at the ranch.”
I gape at him. “You want to measure me? You think I’m lying?”
He gets out of the car and shuts the door. He makes his way around to my side, my heartbeat pounding faster with each step.
He pulls open my door, his eyes bright and filled with humor. “I want to offer you the opportunity to prove me wrong.”
I hate that I’m forced to hop out of the high vehicle. Why do I have to drive such a big car?
He grabs my hand to steady me again. I yank it away and march around to the back of the vehicle to open it up.
“Fine. If it’s that big of an issue for you, we can pull out the old tape measure. Are you sure you’re actually as tall as you say?”
He grabs the biggest box, then takes the one I’m holding with the jellies and pickles and stacks it on top of his. I reach for his lawn chair, but he takes it from me as well and swings it over his shoulder. All that’s left is my tote bag with the tablecloths and smaller items. I grab it.
His big hand wraps around mine, gently peeling my fingers off.
His eyes meet mine, and he leans down toward my ear. “You’re right. I’m a smidge taller.”
The warmth of his deep voice ripples through me. I shiver as goose bumps rise on my arms.
He loops the bag over his other shoulder and lifts the boxes. With nothing to do with my hands, I grab my small handbag and shut the back hatch of the vehicle. I’m usually stuck taking three trips back and forth and breaking a sweat despite the early morning chill of fall.
I lead him over to the spot Rosie and I usually set up. The hosts provide the table, but we bring our own tent and decor. Rosie will be here any minute with more stuff to setup.
“You can put them here.” I point to the white plastic table.
Sam deposits the boxes and the bag on the ground.
“Thanks.”
I begin taking the time to set up everything, which goes much faster than I anticipated without needing to go back and forth to the car.
Sam lifts the boxes back up as I spread out the tablecloth.
He helps me adjust and secure the banner that says Sun Butter Bakery to the front of the table.
After realizing I’m going to be meticulously laying out items on the table in my own special order, he opens his lawn chair and takes a seat behind me.
I try to block out my hyperawareness of his presence so I can focus.
I’ve brought some new items today, and I spent hours making cute little signs that say New!
and Try me! One is a strawberry jam with a blackberry swirl.
The other is an apricot jam with mango swirl—my personal favorite.
My signature honey butter is usually the first to sell out, so I brought ten extra jars this time.
After everything is laid out exactly how I like it, I stack the boxes under the table and look around.
The honeycomb lady who has multiple thriving beehives is set up beside me.
She sells raw honey, lip balms made from the wax, and honey soaps.
I source all my honey from her, and she gives me a great discount. I wave at her.
“Hello, Gene. How was your week?”
She lifts her head up and offers me a warm smile. Her white hair is tied back in a silver clip, and the faded gingham dress she’s wearing has little bees stitched around the hem. I want to be her when I grow up.
“I had a fine week, although Herbert’s gout has been acting up something fierce. He’ll only let me treat it with my honey salve. I think we’re past the point of home remedies.”
I frown. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is he at home today?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. He wouldn’t let me do this gig all alone. He’s at the gas station getting us some coffee. Our pot broke this morning. His motor skills aren’t what they used to be.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest. The memory of my grandparents passing away when I was only a preteen moves to the forefront of my mind.
They were always together, stuck like glue.
My dad’s parents were in a home not too far from us, and they died only weeks apart.
They were fragile, like Gene and Herbert, but kept trucking along and doing things they should have been asking for help with for years.
Herbert walks up behind his wife with two steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee.
Her eyes move over to Sam. “Well, hello there, Sammy. I haven’t seen you at the market before. I must say, you two are quite a handsome couple.” Her eyes twinkle.
My heart stops beating for a second too long, tripping over itself and sputtering inside my chest. I gasp from the sudden change, grasping my chest. I feel Sam jump up behind me. He grabs my elbow.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is panicked.
I try to focus on the buttons of his shirt, but my vision is blurry.
My heart is still flip-flopping inside my chest, trying to get back to the right rhythm, but not quite finding it yet.
My senses are all dulled, my muscles feeling squishy.
Sam’s grasp on my elbow grows tighter as he pulls me toward his chest and crushes me into a hug.
“Shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay. Slow down, exhale. Breathe for me, Baby Red.” His voice is a murmur into my hair.
My chest cavity seems to be learning how to beat right from the steady, strong thrum in his chest. I inhale his pine needle scent, sighing into him after what feels like way too long and not nearly enough time. I slowly pull back from the warmth of his embrace, blinking up at him.
The sun has risen higher in the sky, shining into his eyes and making them look crystal blue.
“I’m okay,” I say in a small voice.
“Oh my. Well, if that wasn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You two were made for each other.” Gene is holding Herbert’s hand, her eyes misty.
I open my mouth to explain that we are not together and that my weak, pathetic little heart just malfunctions at random times, but we’re interrupted by Rosie dragging a wagon with the tent folded up inside and the ice chest full of her homemade salsa.
“Sorry to interrupt, guys. Should I come back later?”
The smirk on her lips is impossible to ignore, and if I weren’t worried about having a heart attack, I would probably scold her for it.
“Nothing to see here, just my usual poorly performing chest cavity.”
Her eyes immediately drop the humor. “Oh, babes, I’m sorry. Aren’t you due for a checkup?”
I sigh. “Probably.”
Sam moves to grab the tent out of her wagon and begins setting it up.
“Well, if you’d like me to go with you, I can. Holden can keep the girls.”
I nod, gnawing on my lower lip. She has way too much on her plate, but I know she would do it for me.
Ever since my mom died, either one of my brothers or Rosie always comes with me to my doctor’s appointments.
My heart defects aren’t fatal, but they are annoying and inconvenient.
Between the physical limitations of having to sit out of strenuous PE classes, taking daily meds, and everyone gasping in fear every time I trip or have a little fright, I’m over it.
I’m over being the sick one, the traumatized one, the one who now has to be guarded because there’s a crazy person out there trying to avenge Cain’s untimely death.
Rosie is my best friend, practically my sister, and she can see on my face that I don’t want to discuss it. She turns away, smiling at Sam.
“Sure is nice to have the help. I should have slept in. We could’ve set up thirty minutes later.”
If Sam feels flattered, he doesn’t give it away.
“I, for one, want to go peruse the stalls before we start getting customers. I’ll be back in a jiff.” I walk toward the tents being strung up on the left side, tugging my phone out of my dress pocket.
A dress with pockets is always a brilliant idea.
My stomach does a little somersault when I see that I have a message from Ropes. It’s nice to be acknowledged, to be thought of.
@ropesandchainsexciteme
Good morning, Red. How’d you sleep?
@redreads
I slept well. Today is one of my favorite days. How about you?
@ropesandchainsexciteme
What’s happening today that’s so great? You’re not gonna be seeing me, so … can’t be that good.
@redreads
Well, that’s true. I’m patiently waiting for that day. But in the meantime, I’m working today on my passion project. I run my own business.
He doesn’t respond right away, so I start perusing the stalls. There’s one with jewelry that I always stop at. She sells gold and silver chains with all kinds of charms on them. I’m always eyeing the ones that are shaped like books and croissants.
“Good morning.” I smile at her.
She smiles back. I don’t know her name, but she’s in her early forties and pretty new to the market. She’s arranging a velvet tray of rings.
“Are you one of the gals with Sun Butter Bakery?”
I nod, my fingers trailing over a new design I haven’t seen. It’s a lasso.
“I’ve heard rave reviews about your honey butter and cinnamon coffee cake. I always miss out because they sell before I can get away to grab one.”
I can’t contain my smile. “I’d be happy to set one of each aside for you, if you’d like.”
She nods immediately, her dangly earrings tangling in one of her dreadlocks. “I’d love that. My name is Mariana.” She extends a hand laden with rings.
I shake it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dolly.”
“Are you entering your baked goods in the fair coming up? It’s right before Christmas, I think.”
“Oh, yes, I never miss it.” And I’m determined to win that damn ribbon again, one of these days.
She beams. “I’ll come by to get my goodies later. Don’t forget!”
I chuckle, nodding at her as I move along. “I won’t!”
I look down at my phone and see a new message from Ropes.
@ropesandchainsexciteme
A woman with ambition? I like it. I’ll have to work harder to spoil you.
I wish I knew what Ropes looked like, but the mystery is part of the fun. I start typing back.
@redreads
If you know how to tie a good knot, that’s really all I need to feel spoiled.
@ropesandchainsexciteme
Baby, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.
I bite my lip, walking back to my stand, where I see Sam standing near Rosie, chatting with our first customer of the day. My stomach is in knots, with just enough anticipation to help keep my focus off of my childhood crush and on the mysterious new guy I’m harmlessly flirting with.
As I walk up, I notice Sam’s expression is cold. The profile of the newcomer comes into view, and I recognize him instantly.
“Ben? Hey, it’s so great to see you.”