"Then we won't." I glanced past her to the open gate, then back at her mouth because I was apparently done making smart choices before breakfast. "We'll pull weeds and behave ourselves."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Both?"
"Don't get ambitious."
A laugh slipped out of her, quick and real. The sound went through me better than coffee, which was inconvenient because I still had a city garden, a crew, a clipboard, and the last four hours of Daphne's court-ordered service between me and doing anything about it.
Birdie came around the pepper bed with a basket on one arm and a straw hat tied with a blue scarf today. Her earrings were tiny silver watering cans, because apparently the woman had never met a theme she didn't plan for.
"Daphne, honey," Birdie said, "those boots look like they haven't heard the bad news."
Daphne looked down at her new tan work boots. "They have ankle support."
"They have innocence," Gus said from the south row.
Tyler leaned on a rake near the compost bins and shook his head. "That won't last."
Daphne pointed at him. "I'm not taking survival advice from a man who has a personal feud with compost."
Tyler straightened. "It's not personal. It's strategic."
Gus looked at the rake in Tyler's hand. "You're holding that backward."
Tyler looked down. "That was also strategic."
Daphne's shoulder brushed mine when she turned her laugh away, and the brief contact hit hard enough that I had to study the clipboard.
"Phones in bags," I said. "Water before work."
Daphne gave me a narrow look. "You're really going to supervise me through your final four hours like nothing happened?"
"No." I handed her a water bottle from the cooler. "I'm going to supervise you through your final four hours like a lot happened and I still know how paperwork works."
Her fingers closed around the bottle. This time, I didn't avoid touching her. Our fingers brushed, bare skin against bare skin, and the look she gave me made the whole shed, garden, and state of Montana feel too small.
"Careful, Zane," she said quietly.
I leaned a little closer. "That's my line."
Her cheeks flushed, and I had to focus on the clipboard before I made the morning worse.
Behind us, Birdie said, "Tyler, go make yourself useful near the compost before I learn something I don't need to know."
Tyler muttered, "I was born for awkward timing."
Gus picked up a bucket. "You were born for supervision."
I let Daphne go before the morning got away from me.
The last shift needed to be clean.
I put Daphne on the west bed first, away from the south fence and the view of my land. Her note was locked in my truck. Her hands were steady when she pulled on her gloves. The tight line had left her shoulders. Today, she could pull weeds and argue with produce like the P-Patch had originally intended.
She knelt beside the bed with the foam pad under her knees and tugged at a weed near the carrots. "This one has confidence."
"Loosen the soil first."
"I know." She worked her fingers around the stem. "I'm giving it a chance to reconsider."
