Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Roman
Hi, I’m Lola. My parents said you’re staying with us for vacation and that you’ll probably want to hang out with Mase ‘cause he’s your age but he’s kind of boring so you can totally play with me too.
I draw in a breath, finding my patience as I stand at the kitchen island, looking over the latest contract my father sent me.
He’s added another hundred thousand pounds to the salary.
You’d have thought he’d have learned by now that more money isn’t going to make a difference but that’s the world my father lives in.
According to him, everyone has a price, and if they don’t, they’ve got secrets.
I guess I should be happy he hasn’t resorted to blackmailing me. At this point I honestly wouldn’t put it past him.
I take my glasses off, snatch the contract up, and head to the front door to pull on my boots.
Smoke drifts across from the patio area over to the right of the stables.
Jarred came over earlier with extra food from his mum and got the barbecue going. I don’t think June ever stops mothering, and she likes to make sure all my pickers are well fed. I stopped insisting to Jarred that I had it covered when I realized he needed a reason to get out of the house.
I join him by the barbecue and shove the contract underneath the rack topped with meat, watching as the paper curls up in the flames.
“Nothing like a bit of burnt contract to bring out the flavors in the burgers,” Jarred keeps his smirk to himself but I shoot him a dry look. I probably should have put it in the recycling but there was something very satisfying about seeing that posh office paper go up in flames.
Jarred flips the burgers and my stomach roars to life. “I take it your old man’s still trying to drag you away from us small town folk.”
I slap him on the back. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re pretty much stuck with me.”
“God help us all,” Jarred calls out.
I smirk and flip him the bird as I join the other pickers on the logs. We had to cut the thick pine trunks down to make room for the packing facility but instead of shredding them we’d turned them into benches.
I sink down into one of the carved out seats and stretch my legs out, crossing one ankle over the other.
August is mid picking season for the orchard so the seasonal workers have been here for almost a month now.
We’ve got seven this year all set up in the bunk house.
Javier, George, and Jenna are returners, having worked here the last few seasons, but the others are new.
That tends to be the way with seasonal jobs but we have a better retention rate than most because I make a point to pay good wages and provide decent digs.
The group’s gelled really well this year and I sit back and open my book, enjoying the banter being thrown across the patio.
My dad can send as many contracts my way as he likes but I’m exactly where I want to be.
Why would I trade sitting out in the sun and working with nature, literally growing living things from scratch, for suits, meetings, and stuck-up business tycoons?
My life is just how I want it. Or at least it was until Lola Ford swept back into town like a goddamn tidal wave. Now all I can think about is having her in my bed. Those deep brown eyes gazing up at me, the purple streaks in her hair splayed out on my pillow.
Fuck. No.
I’ve read the same paragraph three times so I close my book and run a hand over my face, as if I could literally rub the image of Lola from my mind.
Like that isn’t a battle I lost fucking years ago.
Snapshots of her stain my memories. Lola jumping off of Lovers Ridge.
Lola dancing in a truck bed. Lola driving off with Max after I specifically told her not to.
“Get out of the damn car, Lola.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Relax, I’ve done this a hundred times before and I’ve got fifty bucks riding on winning this race.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your bet. Street racing is illegal.”
There’s that eyeroll again. The one that has me thinking thoughts I should not be thinking about my best friend’s little sister, even if she’s far more adult than child now.
Though clearly her mind hasn’t matured that much, or she wouldn’t be out here on the coastal road with a bunch of Viper MC kids, driving a car that’s barely holding itself together.
“I swear to god, Lola, get out or I’ll drag you out.”
Lola just revs the engine and blows me a kiss before stepping on the pedal. Hard.
I shake off the memory of one of Lola’s worst decisions and take a swig of the soda George handed me.
I promised myself I’d keep my distance from Lola, for Mase’s sake if nothing else. And that starts with not daydreaming about her under the summer sun.
“You alright there, Roman?” Jenna asks, her ponytail brushing her shoulder as she tilts her head. She’s attractive by anyone’s standards but does absolutely nothing for me because apparently my body is only attracted to one, frustrating, stubborn woman.
“Yeah, fine,” I say.
Javier shakes his head. “Nuh huh, I know that look.” He smirks at me from the log he’s sprawled across. “The boss has got woman troubles.”
I shoot him a glare. “No, I do not.”
“You sure about that, boss?” George asks. “Because that mighty fine whirlwind looks like she’s heading straight for you.” He takes off his cap and tips his head in the direction past my shoulder.
I twist around to see what he’s looking at and my stomach flips. I’m a grown goddamn man and my stomach flips. “Firebird,” the nickname falls out on an exhale, like she’s in the very air that I breathe.
Lola walks across the grass, sunlight dancing through the tree leaves and dappling on her skin. The orchard comes right up to the stables, stopping only a few meters away, and Lola makes her way down the makeshift path like it’s an aisle.
She’s in a white sundress, the skirt clinging to her legs in the breeze as she walks.
One of the newer guys wolf whistles and Jenna smacks him on the shoulder so I don’t have to. I stand up and walk towards Lola, steering her away from my childish workers and the whoops and hollers at my expense.
I cup Lola’s elbow in my palm and guide her towards the A frame porch over my front door. “Is everything okay?”
Lola doesn’t answer straight away, her gaze locked on where I’m still holding her elbow.
I let go like she’s on fire and scratch the hair at the nape of my neck. I take a step back. Distance, Roman. Distance.
When she still doesn’t say anything my shoulders tense. “Lola?”
She blinks. “Right. Sorry. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something.” She peers around me to where everyone’s sitting on the patio. “But if now’s a bad time I can—”
“Now’s fine,” I say, drawing her attention back to me. Some primal part of me doesn’t want her looking anywhere else.
She nods. “Right, okay. Great.”
I tilt my head to the side and assess her.
Lola is nervous. A slight pink blush spreads across her cheeks and her eyelashes flutter as she blinks just a little too rapidly.
She swallows, her pulse jumping and my fingers yearn to trace the slender column of her throat.
I shake my head and shove my hand deep into my shorts pocket.
“Anytime today, Firebird.” I wince internally as my words come out a little caustic.
I don’t mean to sound irritated but her being here is not helping my plan to keep my distance and I don’t know how much longer I can stand this close to Lola and not do anything about it.
It’s like ever since I made the decision to stay away my body is fighting for the opposite.
My abruptness at least seems to snap her out of her nerves.
Matches strike in her eyes. She pulls her shoulders back and stops fidgeting, a fierce, determined look setting across her face. “I have a proposition for you.”
I don’t know whether it’s the way she’s bites her bottom lip the second after she speaks or whether my mind is just that dirty when it comes to Lola but my thoughts immediately go to the bedroom.
“I want to purchase your unsellable apples at a discounted rate. The ones too bruised or blemished to sell? I want them.”
It’s so far off what I was expecting her to say it takes me a second to get my head in gear.
“For the coffee shop,” Lola adds. “To make apple fries.” She holds out the purple folder from under her arm.
“I have all the details in here, including a copy of my business plan with my projected profit margins and a proposed payment plan. I know the price I’m offering is low but currently you’re making a loss on the apples you can’t sell, so anything must be better than that.
And once the coffee shop is up and running, I’m happy to pay a subsidized but increased agreed upon rate. ”
“Okay,” I say.
She stops, her mouth caught open like she was prepared to dive right back into her speech. “Okay?” she asks.
I nod. “Okay. Any apples that don’t meet standards are yours.”
Lola’s purple folder droops in her hand. “You haven’t even read my proposal.”
I shrug. “I don’t need to. It sounds like a good deal.
” I’d been looking for something to do with the subpar produce because I hate the waste.
I’d been thinking about teaming up with a cider company but there isn’t anywhere local.
Selling to Lola would mean providing local grown produce to the town, it would be good word of mouth for the business, and there would be almost no transport costs.
I’m ready to shake on it now but Lola backs up a step and narrows her eyes at me. One of those damn purple streaks falls free from her ponytail as she shakes her head. “I don’t need any special treatment, Roman.”
I raise my brows. “That’s good, because I’m not giving you any.”
Her fingers clench around the edge of the folder. She tilts her chin back. “I can do this. I have a solid business plan. I’ve done my research and I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you to agree to this because I’m some immature girl who’s in over her head.”
If she thinks that’s what I’m doing, then she has no idea.
I’ve been convinced that Lola can do whatever she puts her mind to ever since she followed Mase and I all the way up to Tiger Falls at just eight years old.
It’s a six-hour hike that we’d spent weeks training for, and she did it with nothing but grit and a stubborn resolve that she wasn’t going to be left out.
She was halfway dead by the time we reached the top and realized she was following us.
Mase had panicked and shouted at her for being stupid.
I’d had my fair share of worry too, but I couldn’t help but be impressed.
We took it in turns giving her a piggyback down the mountain.
Mase grumbled the whole way, but I felt like I was carrying a champion.
As far as I’m concerned Lola can do the impossible and I hate that her past has made her doubt herself like this. I cross my arms, ready to tell her just how wrong she is. “Lola—”
She shoves the folder out towards me. “Just read the business plan. Look over the deal and then decide.”
I glance down at the dark purple folder. She’s drawn a coffee bean in the corner with marker pen and it’s just so her I have to bite back a smile.
“Please,” Lola adds.
I sigh. So much for keeping my distance. I already know I’m going to accept her business proposal, but I also don’t want her thinking I’m doing so out of pity.
I reach for the folder, my knuckles not so accidentally brushing against hers. Tingles dance where we touch. Fuck.
Lola’s long brown lashes flutter as her eyes flick up to look at me. There’s a question in them that I don’t know how to answer. I’m smart enough to realize I’m not going to say no to her. I don’t think I can. But if I’m not going to keep my distance, I at least need to draw some lines.
Starting with not finding any and every excuse to touch her.
I clear my throat as I take the folder from her and step back. “I’ll look over the plan.”
“Good.” She nods. “That’s good.”
I dip my head.
Lola’s gaze shifts around, taking in the rows of trees and the guys chatting over on the logs.
Her eyes flick to the solid oak door. She lifts up a hand, trailing her fingers against the smooth varnished wood, and I realize she’s never been here before.
I have this deep urge to invite her in. To offer her a drink or a tour or anything really just to get her inside. In my space.
Before I can cave to my baser instincts, Lola shakes herself out of it and drops her hand. “So, uh, I’ll catch up with you in a couple of days.”
“Sounds good.” It’s not what I want to say. This goodbye feels awkward as fuck and my voice comes out a little gruff and short.
Lola nods to herself and hops off the porch. She makes it a couple of meters down the dirt path trodden into the grass before stopping and looking back over her shoulder.
“Roman?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t know you owned the orchard.”
She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but I get the sense she’s searching for answers.
Wondering how we’ve gone from living in the same house every holiday to knowing pretty much nothing about each other’s lives.
I would ask after her every time I saw her parents or spoke with Mase, read every postcard she sent from across the world.
It hurts a little to know she didn’t ask after me.
“For four years now,” I say.
She gives me a small smile but it’s half-hearted at best. Maybe not knowing hurts her a little too.
I don’t think I want that. As much as I obsess over Lola, I’d rather she not give me a second thought than me be the cause of her pain.
“Congratulations,” she says, the word a feather in the air.
I give a single nod then hold up the folder. “I’ll be in touch.”
I turn on my heels and head back to my crew. I have to tense every muscle till they’re hard as rock to stop from looking back and watching her walk away.
Future business partners do not watch each other walk away.