Marley seemed pretty caught up in eating, though. She licked her thumb, and Christ, he was so not going to make it out of this without the bluest balls this side of the Mississippi. “Okay, fine,” she said, taking one more bite and conceding with a shrug. “It’s a really good peach.”
“The best,” Greyson corrected, and although she rolled her eyes, for once, she didn’t argue.
“The best.”
He gave her a minute to keep eating so she could enjoy her peach without interruption. Finally, when she got down to the pit, he asked, “So, do you want to tell me why you’re here at the farmers’ market? Not that I’m bitching, necessarily—like I said, you’re making the challenge easy on me by showing up.” He paused here to dish up a smirk. Old habits, and all; plus, he liked the flush it sent over Marley’s cheeks. “But I’ll admit, I am a little surprised to see you.”
“I’m here to help my brothers,” she said, and Greyson let go of a soft laugh.
“You sound as if you’d rather be fried in a skillet.”
“That’s a vivid image. Also, gross,” Marley said. But she laughed, too, so he pushed his luck a little farther.
“You got the idea, didn’t you? Anyway, it’s not really like you to do anything you don’t want to. So, you must’ve wanted to help.”
She nodded, turning toward him just enough that he could feel the heat of her bare knee near his, even through his jeans. “At first, I agreed to help because Owen said he’d pay me. But then…”
Understanding crashed into him all at once. He knew that look. Hell, he’d lived and breathed it every day of his life. “You like it. Don’t you.”
“I think I’m good at it,” she said, that honesty that he found so goddamned attractive spilling right out of her with ease that made him momentarily envious. “And yeah, it was kind of nice to do something more challenging and fun than folding clothes. It feels easy without being easy, you know?”
Good Lord, did he. “So, what’s the problem, then?”
She sighed, pressing her lips together, but ultimately didn’t fight the words. “I just have a hard time with the family part of it. Cross Creek belongs to Tobias, and I…don’t.”
“You really do have a thing for pushing your old man away, don’t you?”
Marley’s shoulders stole around her spine, hard and fast, but Greyson was faster. Reaching out, he put his fingers on her forearm, and the touch—benign as it was—stopped her short just as surely as if he’d put his foot in a door she’d been aiming to slam.
“Hey, I get it,” he said, because fuck, he really did. And something told him that right now, in this moment, Marley needed to know it, too. “My old man and I are like matches and gasoline, remember? But here’s the thing about that. Whittaker Hollow might be his farm, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love it there, or be good at running the place.”
“It doesn’t?” she asked.
One corner of Greyson’s mouth edged up in a sardonic smile. “I sure as shit hope not, because I do it every day. Look, Cross Creek might belong to your father, and y’all might not get along.”
She tensed under his fingers, and that was a story she clearly wasn’t ready to tell. Still, he held firm. “But if you like workin’ at the farm, if that feels right to you? Then you should do it. Even if it’s temporary. Even if it feels right to him, too, and the farm belongs to him. Having that in common with him doesn’t mean you’ve got to be his daughter. Not unless you want to be.”
For a minute, they sat there, his fingers resting firmly on her forearm and the breeze rustling the thick curtain of leaves overhead, sending flashes of sunlight down in tiny golden bursts. Finally, she nodded, slipping from his grasp, although not unkindly.
“I should get back to work. Thanks. For the peach and…everything.”
“No problem.” Greyson waited until she’d planted her motorcycle boots onto the path before adding, “And Marley?
“Yeah?” She turned just as he dialed his smirk to ten, and oh yeah, he was never going to get tired of that blush.
“Meet me at the shelter tonight at eight thirty. Wear decent shoes, and bring a sweatshirt.”
“Why?” she asked, brows tugged low in confusion.
“I promised to show you why Millhaven is so great, didn’t I?”
Marley nodded. “You did.”
“The peaches are just the beginning, darlin’. I’ll have you eating those words of yours yet.”
“And a dollar forty-seven is your change. Happy Fourth of July.”
Marley handed first the money, then the pie/corn/watermelon package to the woman in front of her, her smile as real as the ache in her muscles. She’d been moving pretty much non-stop ever since arriving back at Cross Creek’s bright red canopy tent three hours ago, her belly full of peaches and her heart oddly at ease. Yes, she’d been thrown by Tobias’s unexpected presence this morning, and yes again, she had reasons for needing to keep him at arm’s length—good ones, even if her brothers could never understand them. But Greyson had been right.
She could still work here—she could still be good at this—and not be her father’s daughter. It was only temporary, anyway. A faster means to a necessary end.
Marley would make sure of that.
Finally grabbing a chance to exhale, she surveyed the break chart she’d drawn up at o-dark-thirty this morning. Scarlett had already headed back to Millhaven to edit some of the photos she’d taken and update Cross Creek’s website, so that left six of them for the break schedule.
“Hey, Emerson,” Marley said, and the redhead looked over from where she was sitting at a card table by the open back of the box truck, filling cardboard containers with the last of the blueberries they had in reserve. “Are you okay? It’s pretty hot out here.” In truth, it was probably only a few degrees shy of hell, and her sister-in-law’s MS had flared something awful in last week’s heat wave. “Do you want the first break?”
“Nah.” Emerson shook her head and smiled. “It’s nice and shady over here, and you gave me all the easy jobs today.”
“I don’t think any of the jobs here are easy,” Marley said, her back muscles squeezing in a great, big hell no, they’re not as Emerson laughed.
“Fair enough. But I promise, when I need a break, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, Cate can go first. She’s been busting her butt almost as hard as you have this morning.”
“Okay.” Passing cashier duty to Emerson, Marley went to go give Cate a break. They had been warp-speed busy so far, with the baked goods and produce flying out of the tent and into customers’ waiting hands at a steady clip since the gates had opened. She had to admit, it felt a hell of a lot better to be busy here, selling vital, genuine products to folks who really seemed invested in what they were buying, than to try and sell overpriced clothes to a bunch of women who didn’t need them and didn’t seem to care.
“Hey, Cate. Break time,” Marley said, biting back a laugh as Cate sagged in relief.
“Oh, thank God. Not that I don’t love everyone’s enthusiasm for apple pie and sugar cookies,” she added quickly. “But I don’t think we’ve ever been so busy.” She paused. “You’re sure you want to send me on a break?”
Marley nodded. “I’m sure. First of all, you’ve earned it, and if you tip over, Owen will be pissed. Secondly, I factored in peak hours when I made the break schedule. We should be about to hit a lull.”
“Huh, that was really smart. Things do usually get a bit quieter just before lunch time,” Cate agreed. “Okay, I’m off, then. I’m dying for some of Harley Martin’s pulled pork barbecue, and I promised Daisy I’d stop by her tent to see how things are going. She’s got this new mint and eucalyptus massage lotion, and—”
“Since you live with my brother, I’m going to stop you riiiiiiight there,” Marley interjected. “But if you could check with Daisy on whether or not she makes homeopathic bleach for my ears, that would be awesome.”
Cate laughed, then bit her lip in a sorry-not-sorr
y sort of way. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
“Have fun,” Marley called out as Cate moved through the steady crowd. She took a quick visual inventory of the pies and quick breads and cookies on display, making sure there were a few samples of blueberry pie front and center before kneeling down to grab another couple of items to replenish the supply on the table.
“Well, well,” came an all too familiar, all too sexy voice from over her head. “It pains me a little to say it, what with y’all being our biggest competitor, but that blueberry pie looks right delicious.”
Marley’s pulse became its own thing, wild and enticing as it beat against her ears. “That’s because it is,” she said, standing to look Greyson right in those black-coffee eyes that made her belly flip. “Would you like to try some?”
“Why not?” He took the small plastic cup from her outstretched fingers. She waited impatiently for him to take a bite, pride making her smile a foregone conclusion.
“Not bad for a city girl, huh?” She backpedaled slightly, since it was only fair. “I mean, Cate made the crust, which is the hard part, of course, but—”
Greyson cut her off with a shake of his head. “It’s really good.”
“The best?” she teased, and he laughed.
“The only way it’d be better is if you’d made it with peaches.”
Marley’s mouth watered, her brain instantly spinning with new ideas. “You’re biased.”
“So are you.” With just enough of a smile on his mouth to be suggestive of all the things he could do with it, he lifted his chin at her. The gesture was oddly intimate, like an inside joke only the two of them got, and damn it, Marley was running out of reasons not to like him.
A lot.
The soft sound of a throat being cleared dropped her back to reality, blushing all the way. Marley looked at the woman standing beside Greyson, taking in her kind face and no-nonsense blond-gray ponytail, but she was certain they hadn’t met.
Greyson, however, seemed to know her well. “Hey, Doc. How are you today?”
“I’m well, Greyson. Thanks for asking. You?”
He slid a look at Marley out of the corner of his eye and grinned. “Can’t complain.”
“Well. That’s good to hear,” the woman said, her smile spilling into her tone. She looked at Marley expectantly. But rather than waiting for an introduction, she extended her hand. “And you must be Marley Rallston. I’m Ellen Sanders. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Ah, Millhaven’s town doctor. She was Emerson’s boss, and each of Marley’s brothers had mentioned the woman on occasion in casual conversation. Doc Sanders was, like everyone in Millhaven other than Marley, it seemed, a long-time local. Of course she’d probably heard all the whispers and rumors about Marley’s return to town months ago.
“Yeah, I…don’t get out too much,” Marley said, semi-apologetically.
“I understand,” Doc Sanders said, so genuinely that Marley believed her. “I was very sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”
The unexpected mention throbbed through her like a bruise, but she resisted the urge to flinch. It was no secret that her mother had died. Plus, the doctor’s kindness was plain to see. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t know her well, but I do remember her. She was a lovely woman.” Doc Sanders paused for a gentle smile before saying, “At any rate, I just wanted to say hello. I had a big breakfast at Clementine’s Diner, so I’m going to get my steps in before I head to the parade.”
Marley’s brain caught up to her mouth, which had been working—or, more to the point, not working—on a delay from all the emotion crowding through it. “Wow. Clementine’s must’ve been busy this morning.”
“I’m sorry?” Doc Sanders asked, looking self-conscious all of a sudden.
“It’s just that Tob—” Marley stopped herself short. Where her father had eaten breakfast was none of her business. Whether or not he’d talked with the doctor while he’d been there? Even less. “You know what, forget I mentioned it. It was nice to meet you, Dr. Sanders.”
“Oh, just Doc,” the woman said, smiling at both Marley and Greyson as she turned toward the milling crowd. “Stay cool in this heat, you two.”
Greyson lifted a brow at Marley, fixing her with a lopsided grin. “That might not be too likely, all things considered.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” she said, letting just a little bit of sass touch the words despite the way her pulse pressed harder in her veins at his closeness, the anticipation that they’d get even closer. Touch. Kiss.
More.
His grin turned to a laugh, as if he felt it, too. And liked it. “Yes, ma’am, I am. Now, where were we?”
“How about nowhere near my sister?”
The butterflies in Marley’s stomach turned to stone, all of them dropping in unison. She wasn’t about to make apologies for anything she did, thought, or said, and that included flirting with Greyson. Still, she knew how her brothers were, about her and about Greyson. This was going to tumble downhill if she didn’t play it right. Especially with the brother in question.
“Eli.” She pressed up to her tiptoes to make sure she was as close to eye level with him as she could get. “Greyson and I do community service together. I’m not sure keeping our distance from each other is realistic.”
Eli remained unmoved, both literally and emotionally, standing beside her like a very pissed off mountain. “Working together is one thing,” he said, not moving his eyes from Greyson, who was—shocker—standing just as firm and returning the favor of her brother’s glare. “But…that”—he broke off to swing a finger between her and Greyson—“is another.”
“So what if it is?” Greyson drawled. “Your sister’s all grown up, Cross. You might not have noticed, but she’s pretty capable of taking care of herself.”
Shock cemented Marley into place. The hiccup gave Eli the advantage, though, and oh, he took it.
“Greyson,” he said, the word slipping through his teeth. “This is over the line. Even for you.”
Marley planted her hands over her hips. She was right freaking here, for God’s sake! But before she could knock them both over the head for being chest-thumping Neanderthals and welcome their asses to the twenty-first century, Greyson broke his stare from Eli’s and turned it to her.
“Why don’t you ask your sister what she wants?”
So many answers. God, there were so many answers to that question. Finally, she went with, “I want you two to knock it off. That’s what I want.”
“Marley,” Eli said by way of protest, and Greyson’s fingers slid to fists at his sides. A look formed on his face, his stubbled jaw hardening like granite, the meanness of a retort that would no doubt spark a brawl clearly coming together in his mind.
But then he met her eyes, giving up a curt nod before stepping back. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” he said, turning to walk away.
“That guy is a serious dick,” Eli muttered, and Marley recovered her wits enough to make an impolite noise.
“Were you honestly expecting a cup of cocoa and a warm hug, Eli? You were a jerk first. A big one.”
“Eli was a jerk?” Hunter asked from a few feet away, and Eli crossed his arms, lowering his voice to keep their conversation from reaching the ears of anyone passing by.
“Greyson Whittaker was hitting on Marley. So, in a word? Hell yes.”
Hunter let loose with a rare and shockingly harsh frown. “That’s two words, dude. Both of them called for. Greyson hit on you?” he asked, lifting his brows at Marley.
Oh, for the love of… “Contrary to popular belief, I am an adult, and yes, I just so happen to be in possession of a vagina,” she pointed out icily. “Is it that shocking that someone might show interest in me?”
Although both brothers had momentarily startled at the mention of Marley’s anatomy, Hunter recovered first.
“It’s not that. Look”—he blew out a breath while Eli resumed mumbling a few more
obscenities under his own—“I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but Millhaven’s a small town, and you’re our little sister. There are a couple of unspoken rules a person just doesn’t break.”
“And flirting with me is one of them?” Good grief! How was a girl with older brothers supposed to get laid around this place?
“It is for Greyson,” Eli said. “I mean it, Marley. He’s just bad news.”
“He also happens to be right,” Marley said, and finally, something that got both of their attention.
“Beg your pardon?” Eli asked, turning toward her on the pavement.
She stepped right in to meet him. “Contrary to what the two of you apparently think, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. And that includes around a guy like Greyson Whittaker.”
Even if that guy was turning out to be nothing that he seemed, and she was the only one who knew it.
17
There were fifty different reasons this was a bad idea. The part of Greyson that enjoyed self-preservation knew it—had listed them all with enthusiasm, in fact, in an effort to keep the rest of him out of his truck and off the path to the shelter. Despite her arguments to the contrary, Marley was a Cross. She may not have been born into her name like her brothers, but anyone even halfway paying attention could see how right she’d looked at that farm stand today, selling sweet corn and grinning like it was Christmas morning as she’d handed out samples of blueberry pie. Greyson might not know the root of their family rivalry, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist, or that it wouldn’t be an issue, both with Marley’s brothers and his old man. Her brothers, he could handle, although it’d probably sting a bit when they tried to kick the crap out of him. His father, though? Already made Greyson’s life difficult, and that was on their good days. Add to it that Marley was dead-set on leaving town as soon as she could, and that her chances of return hovered somewhere around nil, and yeah, come to think of it, he might even be lowballing it at fifty reasons why going to meet her tonight was a spectacularly bad plan.
Crossing Hope (Cross Creek Series Book 4) Page 16