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“That man,” Charlotte grumbled, shutting the front door of the farmhouse a little harder than she intended. It was lunchtime and Grammy would be waking up from her nap any minute if the door hadn’t already done the job for her.
Charlotte’s face flushed hot, and her heartbeat raged so hard it thundered in her eardrums.
She rubbed her nose, half from the stench and half from the dust wafting around her. She was dirty, smelled like cows, and only had half a pail of milk to show for the last hour.
And all she could think about was Tripp.
He was going to tell her what she needed, was he? And what the hell was his deal with looking sexy all the time? Did the man ever have a bad sex appeal day?
Deep breath.
Charlotte peeked into her grandmother’s room. She was still sleeping, her daytime TV quietly playing in the background from its perch on her dresser. Good. That’d buy Charlotte a little more time. She hustled to the kitchen to make sure Grammy’s medications and lunch would be ready when she woke up.
While she stirred the soup over the stove, she grabbed her cell phone and checked her messages. There were a few emails, but nothing serious. One missed call from her apartment complex saying her car was parked in the same spot and needed to be moved in seventy-two hours per the rules or else there’d be a fine.
Charlotte had to take another deep breath and focused on her Grammy’s soup.
She’d gathered the pills, poured the soup in a bowl, and after adding some strawberries and a glass of water to the tray for good measure, she headed into the bedroom.
Grammy was awake and shifting around in her bed. “I hate this,” she grumbled.
Charlotte smiled and pushed a lock of white hair out of her grandmother’s face. “What do you hate?”
“Lazing about,” she said, waving an arm. “I want to be out there in the sunshine with my animals. In my garden.”
“I know, Grammy. And when you’re in your walking cast, I’ll take you out there. The walker thing you have would get jammed up just trying to get out to the barn.”
“I know. But these darn pills make me sleepy.”
“Those are the pain pills. You can have up to three a day, but unless you’re hurting, you don’t need to take one. Do you need another?”
“Not yet. Maybe in an hour or two.”
“Okay.” She helped her Grammy sit up, fluffed the pillow behind her, and folded the legs out on the tray so it could sit across her grandmother’s lap.
“Mmm, smells good. I’m excited for fresh pears here soon, too.”
Ah yes, the list indicated something about harvesting pears.
“I was planning to get out to the edge of the property at the end of the week.”
“Oh good! Make sure you get a hold of Tripp then for the tractor,” Grammy said, sipping her soup like the name “Tripp” didn’t just make Charlotte cringe—and blaze red hot with need at the same time.
“That’s okay, Grammy. I don’t need his tractor.”
Her grandmother’s spoon clanked in the bowl, and she looked at Charlotte like she’d lost her mind. “Oh, yes you do, honey. His tractor has a big bucket on the front that can lift you high into the trees. He also has a cart on the back to haul them all back here.”
“I’m sure I can do that with a ladder and a four-wheeler.”
She waved away Charlotte’s idea. “There are too many pears and they’re too high up. I’ve been using Tripp’s tractor for years. It’ll be fine.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. It was all clicking now why Tripp was so smug earlier. He knew she’d come running to him for “help.” But this wasn’t help. It was a setup. An agreement her grandmother made with him, not her. Maybe she could get around using Tripp’s equipment.
“Do you need every pear from all those trees, Grammy?”
“Yes. That’s what I cut and can every year to sell at the farmers’ market. Big part of my income.”
