“Oh, thank God,” she said, forking up another bite. “That means we can sell it. Where’d you get the peaches? I thought Owen and Hunter said they weren’t even thinking of growing them here this season.”
And the hits just kept on coming. “Ah, about…that. I know we usually bake with the produce that’s grown here, but...”
Cate shook her head reassuringly. “It’s okay if you grabbed them from The Corner Market,” she said, leap-frogging to a conclusion Marley wasn’t about to correct. “Not everything we sell at the storefront has to use ingredients that were grown here. For this, I’m sure your brothers would make an exception.”
“For what?” Owen asked, the mudroom door banging shut behind him and Hunter, who was right on his heels, and Marley suddenly had a perfect understanding of how snowballs grew into act-of-God-sized avalanches.
“Marley made cobbler and it’s to freaking die for. Taste.” Cate held up a forkload of cobbler, and Owen obliged.
“Damn, that is good.” He angled for another bite, but Cate cradled the dish to her chest, laughing.
“Get your own!”
After a quick hand-washing, Owen and Hunter both did. “Wow, Marley. This is really delicious,” Hunter said.
“You guys don’t have to humor me,” she said. God knew she’d grown a thick skin ages ago.
But Owen just laughed. “Do you think we’d eat this much if we were just humoring you?”
Huh. He had a point. Their plates were half-clean already. “I can write down the recipe, if you want. That way Cate can play with it.”
“I don’t need to play with it,” Cate said around a mouthful of cobbler. “I just want to eat it. And smart of you to think outside the box with the peaches. Cobbler is a summer go-to. I normally make it with cherries or blueberries, because that’s what we’ve got here, but this is…” She trailed off to take another bite, making a noise of appreciation that Owen and Hunter both mimicked. “I can’t wait to get trays of this in the storefront.”
Marley’s gut panged at the thought that had been threading through her brain since she’d gone to Whittaker Hollow with Greyson, and oh God, it really was now or never. “Right. So, about that job managing the storefront,” she started, and all three forks lowered in unison.
“What about it?” Owen asked slowly.
She took a deep breath. Held it for a second. Then let it go. “Is the offer still on the table? For me to, you know, do that full-time?”
Owen’s nod was immediate. Sure. “It is.”
“I’d only be able to do it for the season,” Marley emphasized, because it wasn’t fair to be anything other than upfront. But even with the bump in pay and the money she’d save by not commuting, she’d still be stuck here for another six months while she paid off her debt to the hospital. “Oh, and I’d have to go around my community service schedule.”
“Of course,” Owen said, with Hunter adding, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And I’d like a Saturday off here and there. I do have a life, you know.”
“I’m sure we can swing that,” Hunter said, pressing a smile between his lips.
Marley nodded, looking at Owen. “Same pay we agreed on for the farmers’ market, right?”
“Seems fair.”
“Okay,” she said, her heart beating faster even though her brain warned the rest of her to keep it cool. “I’m in.”
“Can I ask what changed your mind?” Cate asked. It wasn’t exactly a question Marley could answer outright—not that she was in the habit of bending the truth, but come on. Old man Whittaker had freaked out at the idea of her and Greyson together. Telling her brothers about him right now, in this moment, would erase all the headway she’d just made.
“I got tired of my job in Lockridge, and anyway, the farmers’ market was kind of fun. In a grueling, manual labor sort of way. So taking the job just sort of made better sense.”
“Hmm,” Owen said, a smile spreading over his face. “Well, I hope you like hard work to go with your good sense, kid. Because they don’t call it the busy season for nothing. We need all the help we can get around here, and there’s no time like the present to get started.”
23
Marley was slightly sunburned, partly mind-boggled, and thoroughly worn out. No, rewind. Worn out wasn’t exactly right. It was more like brutal soreness in muscles she didn’t even know she’d had. She’d made more progress than she’d expected over the course of the week, though, as she’d transitioned to running the storefront full-time. Owen and Hunter had split the duties up until now, and while they certainly knew the products, along with exactly when everything would be in season and in what supply, a bunch of managerial things had slid through the cracks. Marley had certainly had her work cut out for her with a hacksaw, but she’d begun to figure it out, slow and sure. Noémie had taken her notice in stride, which was to say she’d been all too happy to quietly remove Marley’s already-scant shifts from the schedule at the boutique, effective immediately. It had allowed Marley to really focus on learning the ropes at Cross Creek, and she had to admit, working alongside her brothers and Emerson, Scarlett, and Cate had been kind of fun. She’d even done some planning and idea-sharing with Tobias a time or two, all of it painless.
Tender, aching muscles aside, of course.
Lying back against her pillows, Marley melted over her mattress, and ohhhhhh yeah, that was the ticket. Her hair was damp from the shower she’d indulged in after dinner, having scrubbed every last inch of her skin twice, and the sheets were cool against her bare legs. Snuggling in, she turned off the light at her bedside and hugged her pillow to her chest, looking forward to a great, big Saturday morning snooze-fest tomorrow.
Her cell phone lit up her nightstand and her pulse all at once, her pulse taking a distinct lead when she saw Greyson’s name on the screen.
Hey.
Marley grinned like the idiot she was. She’d seen Greyson at the shelter this week, of course, but that had been (mostly) work. Texting him from the quiet dark of her bedroom? Totally different, and yep. Totally decadent.
Hey, yourself.
What’re you doing?
For a fleeting second, she considered making up something less lame than reality, but she quickly gave up that ghost. I’m lying in bed, contemplating the merits of sleeping until I’m no longer sore.
A beat of silence passed before the three dots started dancing over her screen again, followed by, Shame you’re staying in bed. I know a really good remedy for sore muscles.
Marley’s heart raced, her smile a wide and inevitable thing. Do you, now?
Yes, ma’am. Meet me at the shelter and I’ll show you.
Give me twenty minutes, she typed, her smile turning into a laugh loaded with anticipation when he replied,
I’ll be there in fifteen.
Throwing the quilt from her body, Marley ignored her squalling shoulders as she rummaged for a pair of semi-clean jeans. She jammed her legs into the denim, rooting around for a bra next. She owned exactly one piece of sexy lingerie, a teal lace triangle bra that made up for its lack of functionality with a whole lot of hello-there-spaghetti-straps form. Covering the thing up with a plain black T-shirt felt kind of like hiding a surprise, and she grinned as she thought of the look Greyson would surely give up when he lifted up one to discover the other. A swipe of clear lip gloss and a quick ruffle of her hair later, and Marley was as good to go as she’d ever be. She stuffed her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans, grabbing her car keys from her dresser and a couple of condoms from the top drawer, quickly sliding them into her wristlet before tiptoeing out into the hallway.
Where she promptly stopped short. The door to Tobias’s room was ajar, the light beyond shining softly. His muffled footsteps were heavy enough to suggest that he was still wearing his boots, and therefore still dressed, and Marley’s heart squeezed, her legs auto-piloting to the doorframe.
She knocked, peeking over the threshold only after he’d given up a surprised, “
Come in.”
“Hey, I’m um…going to go out for a bit with a friend. I’m not sure how late I’ll be, but I didn’t want you to worry.”
He studied her, his blue-gray eyes bracketed with heavy lines despite his smile. “Alright. Thank you for lettin’ me know.”
“Are you okay?” The question flew out before Marley could check it, her stomach knotting. He looked more fatigued than usual, as if a stiff breeze could knock him right over.
“Just tired,” Tobias said, waving a hand. “The growing season seems to get longer every year. Right helpful to have you workin’ the storefront, though.”
“Oh. Well, you know. Owen’s paying me.” The default felt strange and too stringent, so she added, “But it is nice not to have to drive into Lockridge anymore, and working on the farm is pretty fun. Eli’s even teaching me how to take care of Clarabelle.”
The thousand-pound Jersey Brown cow her brother had taken on as a pet thought she was a lapdog. And since Marley now had loads of experience taking care of those, she figured adding a cow to the mix wouldn’t hurt, especially since Eli was about to have his hands full with a baby.
Tobias chuckled, the weariness on his face easing slightly. “Well, then. Sounds like you’ve earned a night off. Have a fun time, now.”
She paused. He’d looked pretty shaky when she’d first knocked on his door. Maybe she should stick around, just in case…
No. Not again. You can’t do this again.
Marley nodded, ducking her head so Tobias wouldn’t see the tears that had just betrayed her by springing into her eyes, unbidden.
“Okay, thanks,” she said, and quickly closed the door.
Greyson waited for Marley with far more anticipation than he should have. But between her picking up full-time hours at Cross Creek and him needing to tend to about six million things at Whittaker Hollow, not to mention the fact that she’d somehow managed to sugar-talk Louis into letting Sierra come help them with the animals at the shelter during every shift, he’d barely had a chance to get any time alone with her this week.
And God help him, he’d wanted it. Really. Fucking. Badly.
Greyson stared through the rolled-down driver’s side window of his truck, watching the fireflies weave lazily through the tall grass at the edge of the shelter’s property. With every passing hour that he spent with Marley, he was running out of reasons to resist the fact that he wanted more of them.
In fact, there was really only one reason. And his name was Jeremiah Whittaker.
Things with his old man had been status quo after their nonversation about Marley on Sunday evening, which was to say they had only exchanged words when necessary this week, and none of them had been particularly polite. Greyson hadn’t addressed the not-quite-veiled threat his father had issued about him being expendable, but Greyson knew that was likely because he wasn’t. Yes, his father could technically replace him, but between the timing and the training, it would be at an expense so great, the whole thing would make cutting off your nose to spite your face look like a frigging paper cut. His father wouldn’t dare.
Probably.
A pair of headlights cut through the dark, grabbing Greyson’s attention and making his breath move faster in his lungs. Marley pulled up next to him, sliding out of her car and into his truck, not even skipping a beat as she leaned over the truck’s console to kiss him.
“Look at you, with all that Southern hospitality,” he drawled a minute later, trying to redirect at least some of his blood flow away from his dick.
Yeah, not a chance. “You like that?” Marley drawled back. “I’m learning from a consummate pro.”
Greyson nipped her bottom lip, not hard, but hard enough. “Just so we’re clear. It’s not my manners I’m aimin’ to show you.”
Marley laughed, throaty and deep. “Oh, good. I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony, anyway.”
“Actually,” he said, but only after another minute of kissing her, because he wasn’t stupid. “I know I’ve already shown you a couple of places here in Millhaven, including the very best. But there is just one more I think you’ll like.”
“It’s not going to involve me climbing any water towers, or otherwise putting myself in peril, is it? Because I wasn’t kidding about being sore as hell.”
“And I wasn’t kidding about knowing a good remedy for that,” Greyson said. “But no. No climbing, no peril. I promise.”
“Okay.” Marley reached for her seatbelt, no muss, no fuss, all trust, and heat that had damn little to do with their kiss or the thought of where he was taking her moved through his gut.
She had a heart like a hurricane, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to be tempted to steal it.
Greyson aimed his truck back at the main road, taking a few turns he knew as well as his reflection. They weren’t headed far, and after only a handful of minutes, he turned off the main road, onto a path that couldn’t be found on any map, but was practically legend in Millhaven.
“Are you sure this is a place?” Marley asked, her smile hanging so heavily in her voice that he didn’t have to sneak a glance at her through the dashboard lights to be able to picture it perfectly.
“I’m sure.”
“It looks like the middle of a field.” She squinted through the windshield as if she was trying to see past the truck’s headlights, swinging her gaze from side to side in growing confusion.
Greyson drove a little farther, then a little more, and eh, they were a little close to the main road, but with the trees off to the right, this would do just fine.
He stopped the truck, killing both the ignition and the headlights. “That’s because it is. Specifically, it’s the field in between Pete Hitchcock’s poultry farm and Curtis Shoemaker’s property.”
“It’s kind of smack in the middle of nothing, huh?” Marley asked, still peering around.
She wasn’t gonna find much, but then again, that was kind of the point. “You just described more than half of Millhaven. But there’s no better place to stargaze than the middle of nowhere. C’mon and I’ll show you.”
He got out of the truck, and either she wasn’t kidding about those sore muscles of hers, or she was actually doing him a solid, because she let him move around to the passenger side to open her door and usher her out. Greyson paused, but only for a second to grab the featherbed and small duffel he’d packed up for just this occasion from the backseat. His boots whispered over the grass, his eyes adjusting to the lack of manufactured light enough to lead Marley to the tailgate and lower it.
“Okay,” he said, jumping up into the bed to spread out the thickly-cushioned blanket. “This ought to serve right nice.”
“It feels so…big out here. I know that probably sounds dumb,” Marley added with a self-deprecating shrug outlined by the moonlight. “I mean, space is space, right? And Chicago’s the birthplace of the skyscraper. Willis Tower is a hundred and ten stories high, for God’s sake.”
Greyson didn’t count himself a stupid man, but… “I can’t even fathom that, to be honest.”
Marley leaned one hip against the tailgate, gingerly pushing her way up to the edge to sit beside him, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. She smelled warm and sweet, and he wrapped an arm around her to pull her close, wanting more. Wanting everything.
“I’m not sure you’d want to when you have this,” Marley murmured. “I mean, I like Chicago well enough. I grew up there. But out here, the bigness of things just feels different. Less overwhelming, I guess. More wide-open than just huge.”
Greyson’s gut twanged at the mention of Chicago and the probability that she’d go back. But he had this moment with her, right now. If she was going to live it, then so was he.
“That doesn’t sound dumb at all, actually. And you’re right. I don’t want any of that, because I have this.”
Tightening his hold around her shoulders, he tilted his chin up to look at the stars. The moon hung over the tree line of red oaks growing off to the left, half
-mast and mostly full, brightening the dark canvas of the sky that held it. The stars were out in full force, shining in clusters and swirls. The light from both created silvery shadows, and now that Greyson’s eyes had adjusted fully, he could see the uncut wonder on Marley’s face as she looked up, too.
“So,” he started, the part of him that had earned his bad reputation snapping its jaws at the fact that the word had caused her to pull back as she transferred her gaze from the sky to his face. The rest of him, though? Totally fucking hooked on her stare. “About those sore muscles of yours.”
“Ah, right. You have a magic remedy.”
If Greyson had been hooked on her stare, then he didn’t even want to know how to define the sensation that had just rampaged through his chest at the smile she’d just given up. Honestly, how could one woman be so brash and yet so sweet underneath?
Unable to resist, he kissed her once, quick and hard, before grabbing the duffel he’d stowed by the truck’s wheel well. “I do.”
Marley’s brows pulled down tight, springing upward a moment later as he unearthed a green and white bottle from the depths of the bag. “Is that…?”
“Mint and eucalyptus massage lotion,” Greyson confirmed, laughing when her shock didn’t budge. “What, you think your brothers’ wives are the only people who know Daisy Halstead? I grabbed this from her the other day at the farmers’ market. It works great after a long day’s work. Or, in your case, a long week. You want to give it a go?”
He expected some smart-assed answer from her. Lord knew he was half-tempted to get fresh with her, albeit in a bit of a different way. But instead, Marley whispered, “You’d rub my muscles with aromatherapy massage lotion just because I said they were achy?”
“It’s the best way to make them feel better.” Reaching out, he slid a hand over her forearm to press firm circles in the spot just above her wrist until—bingo—a sigh drifted past her lips. His hand traveled up to cup her face, his thumb chasing the vibration of the sigh from her bottom lip. “Let me make you feel good, Marley. I promise, I’ve got you.”
Crossing Hope (Cross Creek Series Book 4) Page 22