Authors: Carey Heywood
She runs upstairs to change while I tape off the room. I work on a farm, I’m not worried about paint getting on my clothes.
When Bethany comes back down, I have to fight to not stare at her. She’s changed into a tight tank top and a pair of rolled-at-the-waist plaid boxer shorts. I can only hope she bought them; that’s easier to swallow than them belonging to an old boyfriend.
“You mentioned starting your own business before
, but you never said what,” I ask as she climbs a stepladder to start edging.
“I’m a freelance editor.”
Dipping the roller into the tray, I glance up at her. “What kind of stuff do you edit?”
She sets down her brush and straightens her shoulders. “Novels, mainly fiction
, though I did edit one autobiography.”
“I’ve never met an editor before. Would I know any of the books you’ve edited? I don’t read as much as I’d like to
, but I still follow new releases.”
She giggles, her eyes mischievously holding mine. “That depends, do you read any romance?”
I shake my head and start painting the wall in front of me. “I mainly read mysteries, but Bess inhales those romance novels. She loves that Sparks guy. He’s the only one I know of for romance. Oh, and those grey books, something shades of grey.”
“Everyone knows those. I’m afraid I don’t edit for Nicholas Sparks or E.L. James. If I did
, I might’ve bought an island, not a farmhouse.”
“Fair enough.”
“Would you like to read something I’ve edited?” she asks with a hopeful lilt in her tone.
There is only one right answer to this question. “I would love to.”
“Really?” she beams.
Yep, that was the right answer.
She climbs down the stepladder and motions for me to follow her. Leading me into her den, she immediately starts rummaging through a box on the floor.
“I have an old
eReader you can borrow. I just have to find it.”
I glance around at all the books on her shelves. “Do you have a paperback?”
She gasps and looks up at me. “My paperbacks are signed.”
My brows furrow so she explains
, “If you read one of those, you might crack the spine.”
“That sounds like a bad thing
,” I hedge, even though I’m not certain I understand why that’s a bad thing.
Her attention turns back to the box
, and after another moment of shuffling through it, she brandishes a small tablet victoriously. “Found it.”
Her face
is a picture of elation as she crosses the room toward me and pats my arm. “I’ll hook it up to my charger while we paint and it should be good to go for you to read tonight.”
Following her back out to the kitchen
, I ask. “Tonight?”
She stills and I almost walk into her. Her face turns so I only see her profile and she nods solemnly.
Guess I have homework tonight. After she plugs the eReader in, we get back to painting. Her kitchen isn’t overly large, and since we’re not painting the cabinets, of which there are many, it does not take us long to get the first coat up. We share lunch on her screen porch while it dries.
“So what kind of book would you prefer, heavy steam or low steam?”
I drop my elbow on to the table and rest my chin on my hand. “This your way of telling me you edit dirty books?”
She blushes which is a definite yes.
“I want to read whichever one is your favorite.”
We finish lunch and head back inside to do the second coat.
When we’re finished, it looks great. Sure, it needs to dry, but a coat of paint is always an easy way to change the look of a place. She pulls the tape as I pack the other supplies up.
“I’m going to go wash the brushes outside.”
“I’ll come along with you,” she says, following me.
I use the hose, the overspray getting her legs
, making her dance away with a squeal. Painting has never been fun, but somehow with Bethany, it didn’t feel like a chore. We leave the brushes and roller heads outside to dry and head back into the kitchen. There are still things I need to take care of on the farm, so I start to take my leave.
She stops me, unplugging the tablet and pushing a few buttons. “This
eReader has an awesome battery life, so you should be good. The book I want you to read is opened to page one.”
She goes on to point out how to change the font size if the text is too small.
“Thank you, Bethany. I look forward to reading this.”
“Guys
who read are sexy.”
Excuse me?
Either the room just got warm or I’m blushing. “Good thing I like to read.”
“I can’t wait to hear what you think of it. Are we still on for dinner Tuesday night?”
Tucking her eReader under my arm, I grin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
If she still lives here in six
months, I’m so asking her out.
***
This book is hot as hell. I realize I am alone in my cabin, but I still glance around to make sure no one can see that words on a page just gave me a hard-on.
Words on a page.
My eyes settle on my alarm clock and nearly pop out of my head. I hadn’t meant to read this late. I’m just having a hard time putting this book down. There’s this guy and a girl who grew up together and fell in love, but some bullshit happened and she left town without a word. He’s still in love with her and sees her again after a few years.
I need to go to sleep but I’m
still reading to try and find out why she left in the first place. Every time they’re together, you can tell they just want to tear each other’s clothes off. Sexier than what I was expecting. The digital glow of my clock catches my eyes again and I turn off the eReader. There’s a ton of work I need to do tomorrow so I have to get some sleep.
Even though I’m not running at one hundred percent
, the next day I carry Bethany’s eReader around with me. Every chance I have a couple free minutes, I pull it out and read. I’d like to be able to finish it before our dinner tomorrow night.
“What do you have there?” Bess asks, peeking over my shoulder.
I pass the eReader to her. “It’s a book Bethany wanted me to read.”
“And you can read on this thing.” She moves the
eReader back and forth from her face, squinting at it.
I shrug as she hands it back to me. “It’s nice for reading without a light. It’s got one built right in.”
She shakes her head. “I like the feel and smell of a book. There’s nothing like turning an actual page.”
There’s no point in arguing with her
, so I give her a small smile and nod.
“When are you seeing Bethany again?”
Without even meaning to, I glance in the direction of her farmhouse. It’s too far to actually see from where I’m currently sitting, but no matter where I am on my land, I know where her house is in relation. She’s west, just like the setting sun.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Are you gonna quit sniffing around her and ask her out already?”
My jaw drops and it takes me a moment to respond. “I’m not a dog
, Bess, and I’m just being neighborly.”
She snorts
, and then chuckles at my raised brow. “Neighborly my rear. You like her and you’re being silly for not telling her how you feel.”
I take a deep breath. “You know not everyone is cut out for farm life. She grew up in a big city. I’m partly waiting to see if she’ll stay.”
Her hand comes to rest gently on my shoulder, squeezing it. “I was born and raised in a big city too, Beau. I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”
“There’s nothing wrong with giving it some time to know for sure.”
Her hand squeezes my shoulder again before she lifts it, and starts walking away.
She pauses, turning back to look at me. “Sometimes you wait too long and lose an opportunity that you can’t ever get back.”
I’ve known Bess my whole life. That’s the most melancholy I’ve ever seen her. As far as I know, she’s never married, never had a long-term relationship. I don’t even know what brought her to the farm in the first place. Maybe someday she’ll share her story with me.
Watching her figure retreat
, I can’t help but wonder if my caution toward making a move on Bethany is a mistake. What would be worse, never having a chance to ask her out or doing it too soon and pushing her away instead?
It’s a question I mull over quite a bit that day and into the next. I’m no closer to knowing what to do than when I started. The few female relationships I’ve had have been initiated on their side. My very first girlfriend was the cousin of the Jacksons, a family
who still lived and worked on the farm.
She came out for a visit the summer I turned seventeen. Angel was nineteen
, and looking back, was probably bored staying on the farm. She decided to fill up her free time with being my first everything. By the end of the summer, I was convinced I was in love with her. Unfortunately, that feeling was not mutual and she headed back to college without even looking back.
In my defense
, I was still on the scrawny side back then. After her came my first local girlfriend, Sylvia. This time around, I was twenty and happy to practice all the things Angel had taught me. Again, I was sure I was in love. That was until Sylvia started talking about moving away together. I told her in no uncertain terms that I had no interest is living anywhere else.
She didn’t even tell me to my face she was moving
; she just up and left one day. I had to find out from her mother when I was picking up fertilizer from the farm supply warehouse. The next girlfriend I had, like Bethany, moved out to the country for a change of pace. Her name was Josie and that change of pace only suited her eight months before she got bored and moved back to Atlanta.
Whatever woman I end up with, if I end up with someone
, will have to understand that being a farmer is part of who I am. I enjoy waking up early, except for this morning after staying up too late reading. Most mornings, I’m the first one up and out the door. Being outdoors is where I am most comfortable. Walls, no matter how tall, always seem to close in after a while.
There’s a hope though, after spending time with Bethany and learning more about her
, that maybe she’ll stick around long enough for me to take that chance. Once I’ve finished my work for the day, I head back to my cabin to shower before dinner at Bethany’s. I need a haircut, but otherwise, I clean up nice enough. I wasn’t able to finish the book; work of the farm and needing a good night of sleep took precedence over it.
Hopefully
, that’s okay with Bethany. I’d hate for her to think I wasn’t interested in what she did. I did manage to make it to 68%, or at least that’s what the bar on the bottom of the eReader said. I still have plenty, book-wise, to talk about with her even though I’m not done. I change into a newer pair of jeans and a grey collared t-shirt. It had been a hot week seeing as how summer was fixin’ on moving in.
It won’t be too long before I’ll be taking evening dips in the pond out by my
parents’ cabin to escape the heat. Hell, it might be fun to see if I can talk Bethany into swimming some night. More nervous than I thought I’d be, I leave to head over to her place. When I get there, I see she’s setting up supper outside.
She looks up as I park and waves. I suddenly feel underdressed in my jeans and t-shirt when I see her in a dress.
I pass the front door and head straight for the porch, smiling as she opens the door for me. “That’s some dress, Bethany. I feel like I should be taking you somewhere fancy.”
She looks away quickly, blushing. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
The table is already set, so I offer to help in the kitchen, but she refuses, telling me it’s all done. It feels foreign not helping her. I sit stiffly, wanting to help her as she starts bringing stuff out.
Finally
, I give up and stand. “Sorry, I gotta help.”
She shakes her head at me
, but doesn’t argue when I take the platter from her. She’s prepared lobster and crab legs. Seafood dishes appear to be her specialty. We don’t eat much seafood on the farm so it’s a nice change.
Bess usually sends me over with a dessert
, and tonight is no different. We’ve finished our main course and are about to have some pecan pie when Bethany jumps out of her chair and runs into the yard.
“Where are you going?” I laugh
, following her.
Her hair bounces around her face as she glances back at me. “I saw a firefly.”
Our dessert is forgotten as we race around catching and releasing fireflies.
Chapter
Four
“Bethany?”