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Which means Ellister got off, too.
I don’t know why that’s so hot. Maybe I’m just really flattered and proud of myself, but my face flushes at the thought of him exploding inside his pants.
Motioning Ellister over, I remove the lid from a nearby storage tub. It’s full of ponchos, raincoats, and a few other jackets. As he perches on his knees, I take one of the light-weight zip-ups and tie it around his waist. Luckily, the sleeves cover the area in question.
Deciding it will have to be good enough, I quietly shoo him back to the ladder, totally ignoring the way he looks at me like I’m sending him into battle against his will.
“Mr. Wildwood.” I hear Ellister greet my dad cordially before the clank of the shovel resumes.
A second later, my dad comes up the ladder, and I try to fold my hands over my lap and appear as innocent as possible. He doesn’t climb all the way, his hands resting on the top rung.
When he asks how I’m doing, the conversation that follows is similar to the one I had with my mom in the kitchen of the shop. Even though I insist that I’m having a good day, Dad doesn’t seem convinced.
Glancing to the end of the barn where Ellister’s working, he checks to make sure we’re able to have a private conversation, and he lowers his voice as he leans forward a little. “I don’t want you getting too friendly with our guest.”
Ha. Way too late for that bit of advice.
“I’m a friendly person.” I hike a shoulder.
“I’m serious. Ellister isn’t the kind of man you should let your heart get involved with.”
“Who says I am?”
Sadness etches my dad’s face. “We know you, Hannah.”
In other words, it’s no secret my heart isn’t the wisest picker.
“You’re the ones who invited him to stay,” I point out. “And you basically forced me to spend the day with him.”
Dad’s fingers anxiously drum the wood beneath his hands. “Didn’t have a choice. Just be careful.”
Earlier, I’d assured my mom she didn’t need to worry about Ellister and me getting romantically entangled, but after what happened up here, I can’t say that with a straight face.
Instead, I respond with the most truthful statement I have. “I’m just living one day at a time. That’s all I can do.”
Reluctantly, Dad nods and reminds me, “No dinner at the house tonight.”
For as long as I can remember, it’s been a tradition to invite all our workers and current guests to dinner at the main house every Saturday. In recent years, that just means it’s been my parents, Jack, and me most of the time.
I’m sort of glad it isn’t happening tonight. Because Ellister would be part of the get-together, and the situation is already weird enough. We don’t need to compact it into an hour where we’re all confined to the same dining room.
Thankfully, tonight is movie night at the farm.
“What’s playing?” I ask.
“Disney Pixar’sUp,” Dad replies lightly, as if it’s a surprise.
It’s my parents’ favorite movie, and they show it at least twice during our warm season. Considering we only have six movie nights a year, that’s a lot ofUpto shove down people’s throats.
I sigh, smile, and shake my head.
It’s my favorite, too, and he knows that.
As my dad climbs back down the ladder and his head disappears, my pain slowly returns, and my craving for Ellister ramps up to a new level.
Along with a pounding headache, I get a deep sense of loneliness.
It’s really going to suck when he’s gone.
