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“Sure, why not. It’ll be like old times’ sake, right, Rachel?”
Oh, snap.
SIX
“Thanks again for lunch, Faye.” I squeeze the old woman’s hand lightly. It’s crazy how much she’s aged in the past four years. It flew by while I was gone, but coming home and seeing the changes is a wake-up call.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow in the field.” I nod toward Junior and Rachel, who are still lazing over their desserts at the table. They’re like fucking twins, both propped up on their right elbow as they spoon banana pudding into their mouths. Their expressions, however, are not identical. Junior is happier than a pig in shit, as he would say, but Rachel is glaring at me. If her eyes were daggers, I’d be a dead man.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Rachel declares, her chair screeching on the tile as she goes to her feet. This earns her a warning glare from her mamaw, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the two of them.
I motion for her to lead the way, and she takes off, her hair bobbing on top of her head with each step. As I follow her, I imagine reaching up and pulling it down, letting the locks slip through my fingers, and I clench my fists to resist the urge. I’m sure she would not like that.
Or would she? She did call me when she was half-asleep. Accident or not, I was on her mind regardless.
As we step out into the sun, I squint my eyes, making a mental note to bring my sunglasses tomorrow. Tomorrow… when I start working here with her family for the rest of the summer and into fall.
She races down the stairs, and I attempt to keep up, wincing as my knee sends a pang throughout my leg when I bend it too fast on the first step. Her feet crunch across the gravel as she heads to my car, but she stops after a few steps, glancing back to see where I am. She watches me closely as I finally place both feet on solid ground, pasting on a brave smile. She doesn’t need to know I’m in as much pain as I am.
“So, I know you’re probably mad—”
“I’m not mad,” she insists, her eyes narrowing at me as if she’s calculating something. She’s probably still focused on the pain that I’m sure was written across my face. “But working together is…” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure it’s going to work out well for any of us.”
“Well, at least Junior will be entertained,” I comment, trying to make light of the situation.
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” she grumbles through her teeth, glancing toward the house.
“I truly think he was just being kind. He knows I’m home, and things are a bit boring, honestly.”
The almost sympathy about my knee is now replaced with that feisty fervor. “Let’s get one thing straight—sure, my grandparents have a soft spot for you, but I still remember you breaking my heart. So if you want to work here, if that helps them feel better, I’ll go along with it. But if you take advantage of them or hurt them in any way—”
“C’mon, Rachel.” I instinctively reach for her hand and wrap mine around hers. To my surprise, she doesn’t jerk away. She doesn’t return the gesture either, though. “You know me better than that. Your grandparents mean the world to me.”
“If that’s true, you would’ve talked to them in the last four years.” She pulls her hand free gently, and that almost hurts worse than if she had jerked away.
“See you in the morning, Jack. Don’t be late.” She averts her eyes, and at first I think she’s moving toward me, but she’s just heading back to the house.
I can’t leave things like this.
As she brushes past me, her arm doesn’t touch mine, but it might as well. Every cell in my body feels like it’s electrified when she’s that close to me. In a split second, she moves, but I do too, turning on my heel, my arm outstretched so that I can reach her hair.
She freezes at the contact, my fingers expertly managing her hair tie, and as her long strands fall around her shoulders, her scent wraps around me. Sunshine and sunblock, with a hint of nature, and it’s familiar and new all at once. Just like how she always smelled, but I haven’t inhaled that aroma in so long my body isn’t sure how to respond.
She turns back to me, her cheeks flushed and lips pursed.
“Another thing,” she says through gritted teeth. Her chest heaves with emotion, and I can tell I’ve really tipped the boat. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Fine. I won’t. Not until you ask me to.”
She scoffs. “Oh, like that’s ever gonna happen.”
“It has before, pumpkin.” I haven’t called her that in ages, but the effect is still the same. “And I’d wager all your blue ribbons that it’ll happen again. By the time the leaves change, you’ll be begging me to trace your pretty pale skin with my fingers.”
Her pupils dilate, her lips part, and as her tongue traces the curve of her mouth, it’s all I can do to resist the temptation to take her in my arms and kiss her senseless.
But I’m not going to give in until she does.
“See you tomorrow.”
