“I’m sorry if you were in the middle of something. I really appreciate the help.”
“It’s no trouble. I was just washing apples for the press.”
There was a bit of an awkward shuffle as Candace still tried to help and I tried not to surround her body with mine. We were both trying to grip a tall silver cylinder that stretched over six feet tall and tilt it so the small wheels engaged on the uneven dirt and grass. When her ass bumped into my thigh for the fourth time, and she apologized—for the fourth time—I offered to maneuver the heater myself if she wanted to guide me and tell me where to put it.
Probably best to avoid touching her backside, even inadvertently. Things between us had smoothed out in the last month. The way we’d almost kissed at Firefly had faded into the background of the farm and being co-workers.
Candace was still friendly and easy to be around, so it was only my own stupidity that kept remembering how she’d felt under my hands that night, the way she’d whispered my name. The casual dinner we’d eaten together at Flyers had been a couple of weeks ago. While it had been fun to be with her like that, it was probably safer to keep our interactions limited to the farm. So I didn’t forget that we were friends and co-workers. So I didn’t start hoping for more.
I shook myself and righted the heater into position, ensuring it was level. Over the next half hour, we worked to get the remaining three heaters out of storage and positioned around the picnic tables. Despite the late hour, I figured I could stay and help bring the pumpkins over from the Apple House too.
Tablecloths were spread, and wine bottles and stemless glasses were acquired. Candace had brushes and paint palettes for all the attendees. She straightened the place settings with care, little tweaks here and there. So much of her time and attention went into these events, and I knew it carried over from Candace herself—the high-achiever, the go-getter, the dreamer with that notebook that went with her everywhere.
At three minutes to six, everything looked picture-perfect. But there weren’t any guests.
The farm closed at five, and Nick and Amy and Joan had gone home for the day. Brady was on a dinner break and would be back any minute to help Candace with the event, and to make sure she wasn’t alone. While the vandalism hadn’t repeated itself, we still didn’t have any closure on the situation. Brady had volunteered to work late tonight to help Candace close and lock up.
She was staring toward the road that entered the orchard—the still-empty road.
“This is great, Candace. You should take some photos for social media before y’all get started,” I said, attempting to draw her attention.
She spun around. “You’re right. That’s a great idea.”
“Still a couple of weeks until Halloween. You could probably schedule another one of these since the registration filled up so fast.”
Candace was snapping photos of the table setup with her phone. “Yeah, well, if no one comes, it’s probably a good indicator that I shouldn’t try again.”
I glanced at my watch. “There’s still time.”
She smiled at my optimism, but it wasn’t the one she typically wore. This smile lacked the full force of her happiness, the joy she had for the farm. How she’d chat with tourists, work the refreshment stand with her mother, or coax a shy kid into an apple cider doughnut and a grin. Candace was usually so upbeat, it was disorienting to see her off-balance now. I felt helpless in the face of it.
“Do you think Brady accidentally latched the gate and they can’t get...” Candace trailed off at the sound of vehicles coming down the drive. She brightened. “They’re here.”
I smiled. “Told you so.”
Candace glanced back at me and grinned, visibly relieved. “Yeah, you did.” Her attention snagged on the procession of vehicles as they drew closer to the parking lot. “That’s Bonnie,” she said around a laugh. “She didn’t tell me she did this. Oh, and Mac and Laramie, too.”
Her voice had gone soft and surprised. “I better go greet them,” she murmured distractedly.
Candace took off toward the gravel lot, an excited little skip in her step, and I couldn’t resist the smile that came over me as I watched. Her friend had shownup for her and made sure her event was successful following the pumpkin mix-up. After her awful encounter with Lauren Walker downtown, I was glad Candace had Bonnie, and Bonnie’s friends and family by extension.
Part of me wondered if they’d keep in touch once Candace moved back to the city.
I figured her hurrying away from me now was as good a reminder as any. Candace didn’t belong to me any more than she belonged to Kirby Falls. This was a temporary pit stop, a layover until she went back to her real life.
I realized, belatedly, that I hadn’t been so innocent in my offer to help tonight. Yes, I’d heard her struggling with the heater and felt the need to be there for her, but I also recognized that work—on the farm—was the only safe way to spend time with Candace. Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment. It was important to keep out of situations where someone’s lips could find their way to anyone else’s, but I was still eager for her time and attention. Working late at the orchard was a safe enough way to do that.
Clearly, that lonely teenage kid with a crush still impacted my decision-making.
It was time for me to go and finish up my own work for the night. Yet, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and watched Candace walk away.
Candace
I barely let Bonnie get out of the car before I threw my arms around her. “I can’t believe you did this!”
She laughed, her arms tight across my back. “Well, I knew how upset you were about mixing up the pumpkin order. So I thought I could help you and have a fun night out with my gals.”
Bonnie was so sweet to support me this way. The registration for the sip-and-paint night had filled up inexplicably fast. Turned out, it was all my friend, and she’d brought reinforcements.
