Bonnie grinned, unbothered. “Farm stuff?”
“Yeah. The vineyard made me think about doing an apple-and-wine-pairing event. Maybe a way to collaborate and bring in business. I’d need to research a liquor license for the orchard.”
“So how is everything going at Judd’s?”
I sighed. “Oh, you know. I’m getting settled, but things are weird. My parents would give me the go-ahead on anything I wanted to try, but I’m not about to take advantage or step on toes. Brady doesn’t care. He just does whatever someone tells him. And Joan...” I sighed again. “You’d think I was trying to lead a coup and oust her from the fields. Mark is the only one who’s taking me seriously.”
Bonnie gave me a sly look. “Mark, huh?”
“Mercer. Mark. He goes by both.” My neck felt warm suddenly. Probably the lack of air-conditioning.
This wasn’t the first time I’d thought about Mark since Saturday. Working the farmers’ market together had been fun. At first, I thought he’d just been humoring me about my ideas for the orchard, but then he’d started asking questions and giving his own input. He’d given me his full, undivided attention, and I had to admit, I’d liked it.
When you’d messed up and let your boss steal your work for months, it was a damn revelation to have someone look at you like you were capable and knowledgeable about your field instead of giving the credit elsewhere or trying to gobble it up for themself.
Then there had been the unexpected side effects of having Mark’s thoughtful attention. His blue-gray eyes and solemn face had flustered me in an entirely different way.
I may not have remembered Mark at first, but I was plenty aware of him now. He was, honestly, hard to ignore. Mark was a big, strong, good-looking guy. He obviously had some strength training in his workout routine because his biceps strained the confines of his Judd’s Orchard tee shirt, and his thighs made me a newfound believer in the patron saint of leg day. The firm jaw, masculine features, and good genes didn’t hurt either. His short, dark blond hair looked soft. And the matching scruff of his beard seemed to highlight the fullness of his mouth and the brightness of his smile when he managed to let one slip.
In the confines of the truck, I’d noticed his bright verdant scent. It must have had something to do with farming and all the time he spent in the fields. But his skin smelled like gardens and rain and the first blooms of spring. It was the relief you longed for in the middle of winterandin the heat of summer.
But it was more than his body and his face and whatever attraction was making me hyper-aware of his pillow-soft lips. I enjoyed talking to him and working beside him. He made me feel comfortable. And, as a woman, that wasn’t something that happened every day.
Maybe it all came back to what he’d done for me in high school. It wasn’t often that a teenager of the male variety had the situational awareness and the maturity to handle visible evidence of menstruation and then problem-solve it. Hell, there were grown-ass men who couldn’t manage to pick up tampons at the store for their wives or girlfriends.
On a physical and instinctual level, I felt safe with Mark. In this day and age, that meant something.
He was quiet. Not so much stingy with his words, but intentional. It made me eager to hear what he had to say because his deep voice was a rare occurrence.
Yet I couldn’t shake the sense that something was going on behind the scenes—something I wasn’t aware of. Listening to those old biddies make their snide remarks and watching them cast their judgy stares Mark’s way made me feel sure I was missing something—something big. Like I’d jumped in on book four of a fantasy series after all the world-building had been established.
What had gone on in Mark Mercer’s life that made him the target of little church ladies?
Before I thought better of it, I asked Bonnie, “Whatisthe deal with Mark? What’s his story? Because there were some customers this weekend who shocked the daylights out of me with how rude they were to him. It was a weird vibe.”
Bonnie bit her lip. “Thereissome gossip about him.”
I wasn’t typically a nosy Nancy. I felt like people had a right to their privacy, and, unfortunately, sometimes small towns did equate to small minds. Guilt nipped at me for asking, but despite my best intentions, I knew I was leaning forward in my chair, eager for the truth about Mark, more curious than I wanted to admit.
“Well, let’s see,” Bonnie continued. “He and Hannah Price got divorced a couple years ago. That’s a big part of it.”
I could feel my eyes bulge. “They weremarried.” I didn’t know why I’d lowered my voice on the last word—likemarriedmeant something dirty and I was in the middle of Bible study.
Bonnie nodded. “Yeah. Back in college. It didn’t last long. Just over a year, if I’m remembering correctly. She used to teach kindergarten at the elementary school with me. We weren’t close or anything though. She kept to herself mostly. Then right after her marriage ended, she took the baby and left. Moved to Tennessee and got remarried shortly thereafter.”
“Thebaby,” I all but hissed, feeling certain my jaw must be on the table. “Mark has a baby?”
She chuckled at my undoubtedly over-the-top reaction. I couldn’t help it though. I was shocked. Beyond shocked. I was practically electrified by this revelation. Rationally, I knew that people got married and had kids all the time. It was actually one of my goals. In my five-year plan and everything.
I’d known that Mark and Hannah were close. They’d been best friends since middle school, but I couldn’t say why I was so dumbstruck by the news. Of course, there were times when friendship blossomed into something more. That was what made the friends-to-lovers trope so popular in romance novels. But, I guess, I found it odd that Mark hadn’t mentioned having a child two days ago, when we’d worked together for many hours. No funny stories. No anecdotes. No cute baby pictures on his lock screen.
“Yeah,” Bonnie replied, fanning herself with her menu to circulate the humid air. “But he never sees her. That’s the gossipy bit. Hannah rarely comes back to Kirby Falls and has full custody of the little girl. People say he didn’t even fight for her or ask for partial custody rights or holidays or summer visitation or anything. They also say he doesn’t pay child support.”
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped, and I sat back in my chair to absorb this news.
Bonnie nodded and then she made a face. Likely the same one I was making right now, the scrunched nose and lip curl of disappointment.
Of course, I knew that families came in all shapes and sizes. I was also aware that kids were running around without fathers in every corner of the globe. Some men carried on with their lives while their sons or daughters were raised solely by their mothers. There were dads and there were biological fathers and then there were sperm donors. And there was a difference between all three.
