I fought the urge to laugh.
“Hey, now,” Brady argued. “I go to the gym. No need to be rude.”
Candace rolled her eyes but then moved back to the table to resume her work, unwilling or unable to meet my gaze.
Part of me liked seeing her flustered. I knew that what she’d implied didn’t really mean anything. Brady was a fit guy, but he was lean from years of running and playing soccer. I was shorter and thicker, more muscular from weight lifting. I didn’t hate the fact that Candace seemed to notice. She may not have remembered me from high school, though judging by the heat in her cheeks, I had her attention now.
But like I said, it didn’t mean anything, and it didn’t matter.
With her attention focused on packing apples, Candace said, “I’ll be more careful in the future. I’m sorry for making you the target of unwanted internet attention, Mark.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “Besides, I just work here.”
Candace paused at my words before meeting my gaze. Her hazel eyes were warm and earnest. “Yeah, and so do Joan and Brady. Mom and Dad may own Judd’s Orchard, but you help keep it running, just like everyone else.”
I appreciated what she was trying to do. Including me was kind of her. But this was a family business, and I wasn’t family. The Judds were good people. Thebestpeople. They’d never once treated me like the town pariah I was. They welcomed me and accepted me for who I was, regardless of rumors and perception. But this wastheirfarm. They didn’t need my picture to represent their livelihood. The last thing I wanted was to reflect poorly on them or the orchard.
“She’s right,” Brady agreed. “You’re part of this place, too, Marky Mark.”
“Please don’t ever call me that again.”
He winced. “You’re right. I regretted it immediately.”
Candace was still watching me, so I said, “I appreciate that. Maybe just focus on highlighting other parts of the farm on social media.”
She nodded. “Sure, I can do that.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Brady chimed in, “we don’t need him getting accosted on the street for being a juicy lumbersnack, now do we?”
I sighed, but Candace was ready. She pelted him square in the stomach with a shiny red apple.
“Oof,” Brady wheezed. “You know the rule, buttface. You throw an apple, you have to eat it. No crop wasting.”
“Worth it,” she called, eyes narrowed, as she bent and retrieved the projectile from the floor. “Now, get out of here. We have actual work to do.”
He shot me a grin, no doubt happy he’d irritated his baby sister. “See you later, Mercer.”
I shook my head at their antics, but I felt the tug of a smile. The Judd siblings weren’t perfect by any means, but they were entertaining.
Candace and I spent the next half hour packing up some Gala and McIntosh varieties and loading them in the farm truck. Then I drove downtown while she rode shotgun.
Candace was surprisingly quiet. Maybe she was still feeling embarrassed about the whole Instagram thing.
Eventually, with a flick of her wrist, she turned on the radio and navigated to an oldies station that broadcast out of Charlotte. Candace stuck her arm out thewindow in the early-morning air and let her loose hair blow in the wind. When I sneaked a peek at her, she had her eyes closed as the sunlight shone brightly over her features.
Despite my constant awareness of her, and some leftover awkward crush-adjacent feelings from high school, Candace was easy to be around. She had a soothing presence and was surprisingly laid-back. Not what I expected from a former gifted child and perpetual overachiever. Maybe she’d grown out of her people-pleasing tendencies and was comfortable in her own skin. It sure seemed that way.
I parked the truck, and with the two-wheel dolly, we unloaded the apples and made our way to the booth designated for Judd’s Orchard. Candace also carried a bag full of merchandise, like hats and tee shirts.
We worked side by side and got set up well before the 9:00 a.m. start time. There were a few early birds and the usual suspects moseying around the farmers’ market, but the out-of-towners wouldn’t be by until later.
Candace offered to walk the block and a half down to Cubhouse Coffee Shop and pick up some caffeine for us before the crowds descended. I made the mistake of telling her my order first because she took off down the street, refusing to take any cash from me and ignoring my protests.
I wasn’t sure how things would go today with us as co-workers. Part of me wondered if she’d want to talk about high school or if she’d even placed me in her adolescent memories yet. It was okay if she hadn’t. There wasn’t a whole lot worth mentioning from back then. She knew better than I did about what the friends from her circle were up to. Probably kept up with them on social media and whatnot.
“They had homemade strawberry Pop-Tarts,” Candace said as she returned to our table beneath the white canopy. “I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to resist such temptation, so I got us some.”
