He took the papers, and I folded my empty hand around the gloves before I did something unforgivable, like notice the veins in his forearm for more than a normal number of seconds.
Zane scanned the first page. “Twenty hours.”
“Yes.”
“Five four-hour shifts, unless we adjust.”
“That’s what Officer Purcell said.”
His gaze lifted. “Nadine is your probation officer. I’m the site supervisor. She tracks the court side. I track whether you show up, work, and keep the garden from declaring war on us.”
I nodded. “That sounds fair.”
“It’s simple. Be on time. Don’t leave without checking out. If you’re unsure whether something is a weed or someone’s beloved vegetable, ask before you pull.”
Behind him, the woman in the straw hat called, “That rule exists because of Tyler.”
The younger guy by the compost bins straightened. “One time, Birdie. It was one time.”
“It was six squash plants, baby.”
“They looked aggressive.”
The gray-bearded man snorted.
Zane didn’t smile, but one corner of his mouth moved like it had considered the option and decided not to reward anyone.
I wanted to smile. I bit the inside of my cheek instead.
Zane tucked the paperwork under one arm and looked me over, this time quick and practical, taking in the blouse, the gloves, and the pale pink ballet flats with their tiny stupid bows.
His eyebrows moved.
I lifted my chin. “I was told to dress comfortably.”
“You were told that by someone who hates shoes.”
My toes curled inside the flats. “They’re more durable than they look.”
“Are they?”
“No.”
This time, the almost-smile got closer.
Birdie made a soft humming sound from the tomatoes. The biker-beard man leaned harder on his rake like the morning had just become worth his time. Tyler watched Zane’s face, then mine, then Zane’s again, as if he was trying to figure out whether flirting violated his own court order.
I wished a tomato cage would open and swallow me.
Zane handed my packet back. “You can keep this in your bag. I’ve got the hours sheet in the shed.”
“Great.” I glanced around. “I’m excellent at paperwork. Plants and public shame are newer.”
Birdie laughed outright.
Zane’s gaze stayed on me, steady and unreadable, but the corner of his mouth finally gave in a little. It was enough to make the sun feel hotter on my shoulders.
“Then we’ll start with something hard to kill,” he said.
