“Yeah, right.” Toby gave theworstadvice. “He’s done nothing really. He just… doesn’t like me.” It sounded even stupider when I said it aloud. I drew in a chilly breath and looked around the yard, but it was empty. Just me and the dark shapes of the pine trees silhouetted against the sunset. “He thinks I’m a child, and he treats me like one. Little cutting remarks. Sour looks. He’s always watching me, and when I catch him at it, he makes a snide comment. That sort of thing.”
“Ahhh. And how old is he?”
“Thirty-nine. He’s the oldest of the six Sundays. Older than Webb by a couple years. Older than Emma, the youngest, by like…” I winced and ran a hand through my hair. “Twenty-one years, I guess?”
“Mmhmm, mmhmm. So, older thanyouby fifteen years. And is he gay?”
“Um. I think?” I said, confused at this line of questioning. “I mean, I can hardly ask the guy, and he hasn’t introduced me to a boyfriend or anything, but…” I thought back to our first meeting, to that hungry look. “Pretty sure.”
“Well, there you go, then.” Toby audibly swallowed, and I imagined him on his lounge chair, sipping his adult beverage. “Mystery solved.”
“Is it? You’re gonna have to elaborate, Scooby-Doo.”
“He wants you, precious Gagelet,” Toby said simply. “And he’s a cranky asshole because he thinks he can’t have a sweet, young employee like you.”
“Nah.” I shook my head and leaned my shoulder against the wooden fence so I could watch the reddish light of sunset playing over my bedroom window above the gift shop entrance. “No. That’s stupid, and Knox is not a stupid person. It’s not the 1900s anymore. Age is relative, especially for hookups. And I’m a temporary contractor, not an employee. And?—”
“Don’t convinceme, angel—convincehim.And, just some friendly advice, maybe don’t start by slagging on the 1900s,” he added, his voice thick with laughter. “Some of us actually remember parts of that century fondly.”
“I’m not convincing anyone of anything, because you’re wrong. If he was interested in me,reallyinterested, I’d know.” Wouldn’t I?
I thought back to that first moment we’d met, and I wondered.
“Uh-huh. Then forget about Mr. Sexually Frustrated. Tell me about your job search,” Toby demanded. “Do you have any interviews lined up?”
“Nope.” I sighed and launched into an explanation of all the letters of interest I’d sent and how I still hadn’t heard backfrom any of them. “That’s why I needthisjob at the orchard,” I concluded. “I need experience.”
“Or you could start your own company,” Toby suggested. “It’s not like you lack startup capital.”
“No, but I lack contacts,” I said impatiently, since we’d had this exact conversation before, more than once. “I lack a real understanding of the market. I don’t want a vanity project. I’m capable of doing things the right way, even if it’s hard.”
“Easy, killer. I hear you,” Toby soothed.
But I wasn’t sure he did. Not really. I wasn’t sure anyone did.
“Don’t take things too seriously, Gagelet,” he continued. “Your time in Vermont was supposed to be partly a vacation. A chance to get all kinds of experience, not just stuff that goes on your resume. Have you done anything fun at all?”
“Uh. Does binging Scandinavian dramas on Netflix count?”
“I’m gonna let you answer that on your own, sweetness. Get out and do something, for heaven’s sake! Find a hot guy. Take some scenic pictures for the ’gram. Tip a cow. Whatever counts for fun up there.”
I shuddered. The very idea of getting close enough to a cow to tip it was horrifying.
But I was pretty sure Toby was right about the rest.
“Thanks, Toby. Love you. Love to everyone, okay?”
“Check in soon, honeybunch.”
Once we disconnected, I took a deep breath and logged in to Grindr, which I probably should have done the second I reached the Vermont border.
No wonder I was so out of sorts. I needed sunshine and loud music. I needed to stop trying to impress the unimpressible Knox with my work ethic and remember all the reasons I was here.
I’d just started scrolling when a shuffling noise behind me in the empty yard startled the hell out of me. I whirled around andthrew my phone like a projectile at the shadowy figure looming in the half darkness.
“Jesus Christ, Goodman!” Knox easily batted the phone away, and it landed on the ground with a bounce. “It’s bad enough Emma sent me out here like your personal servant to fetch you in to dinner. Now you’re attacking me?”
“Youloomedat me!” I cried. “You crept up behind me andloomed.”
