Strawberry Summer

by Melissa Brayden

“From what I’ve seen, you’re well on your way.”

  “Thank you.” The compliment landed, and I fought the urge to argue the point, still maneuvering through the whole compliment paradox. “Tell me about the last two years.”

  She took a moment to stack her spoon neatly on our empty dessert plate. “It started with a divorce.”

  “Right.” I grimaced. “I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure I am. My parents rarely spoke to each other, and there was something about my father’s presence that kept my mother…I don’t know. Down on herself, as if her only window into who she was lived in his disapproval. He had all the power.”

  “That’s got to take a toll. What about your relationship with him?”

  “That’s harder to pin down.” Her gaze fell to her napkin as she said it, making it clear that the topic was a difficult one.

  “Did you know my parents went to high school with him?”

  She regarded me, eyes wide. “No way. They did? So they knew each other? You have to tell me more.”

  “I get the feeling that my dad is not a fan of your dad.”

  She blew out a breath. “Is it awful that I don’t find that surprising in any way, shape, or form? I’m not expecting him to win any personality competitions. He’s a cutthroat businessman who tries to run his household the same way.”

  “It’s not bad at all. You have a right to your feelings about your father.”

  The waiter arrived with the check, and though I offered to pay, Courtney refused. “I did the asking. It’s on me.” There wasn’t a lot I could say. She seemed determined.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I said as we walked to the car. “Green mashed potatoes and all.”

  She laughed again and met my eyes. “Now, that’s one that I’ll never forget.” Her smile dimmed, and I picked up from the silence.

  “Confession time. I’ve never actually done that before.”

  The side of her mouth quirked as she leaned against the car. “Ordered the filet?”

  I laughed. “Gone out to dinner with someone. Just one person. Like this.”

  Understanding sparked and her smile softened in warmth. “I’m happy to have been the first.” Cue the stupid blush. I hated how transparent I must have seemed to her. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” I told her.

  “Tell me what you would rather be.”

  I looked up at the sky to form my list. “Exciting, alluring, mysterious. Take your pick.” I brought my gaze back down to hers and watched as her eyes darkened. They carried a hint of something unnamed.

  “Trust me when I say that you, Maggie, are all of those things. Now drive me home. I have to be at the store by six a.m. tomorrow, which is just, you know, unfair.”

  I opened the door for her. “That I can do.”

  The drive home felt so much shorter this time, and I honestly didn’t want to say good-bye. The night had been fun, and new, and exciting. As we pulled into the driveway of her father’s home, I turned to Courtney. “It’s not that late. Are you sure you have to go now?” She nodded but was nice enough to look sad about it. I leaned my head against the seat wistfully. “What if you’re gone again tomorrow? You were last time.”

  “This time I can guarantee a reappearance. Come on, Maggie. Walk me to my door, the way one does at the end of a really great date.”

  I smiled at her characterization and exited the driver’s side. Staring up at the big, dark house, I wondered what Mr. Carrington did with all that space, day in and day out. Courtney slipped her hand in mine and I realized that on the other hand, darkness came with definite perks.

  “Did I tell you how off-the-charts beautiful you look? I can’t get over it,” Courtney said when we arrived at her door. The sentiment made my stomach flip-flop in the most wonderfully torturous way. In response, I swallowed and willed myself not to sidestep or stammer or fall into the patterns of Margaret from two summers ago, and that would have been easy to do. In fact, I didn’t even allow myself to so much as think. I pulled Courtney in wordlessly and caught her mouth with mine. Her murmur of surprise shifted quickly into one of appreciation as her lips relaxed into mine. I took my time kissing her, something I’d been dreaming about doing for two years now. I took in the feel of her lips, the way she tasted like tangerine lip gloss, and the little sounds she made when my tongue stroked hers. I knew inherently that I was standing on Courtney’s porch, but it sure felt like I was hovering somewhere off the ground. I relied on Courtney to set the pace, but when she pressed me against the stone wall that lined the porch, I used it as an anchor. A variety of sensations hit me fast and furious. Nothing like I’d ever experienced. Courtney grasped at the material of my dress as our mouths moved in a dance every bit as sweet as it was decadent. Her hands dipped beneath the edges of the fabric and brushed the backs of my thighs. I gasped, pulling my mouth from hers in search of air.

  “God,” was all I could say as intense need descended, hot and powerful.

  “It’s like I just have to touch you,” Courtney whispered against my neck, and placed an open-mouthed kiss there. “I’ve wanted to since stupid Abraham Lincoln.” Her hands eased up the backs of my thighs and I trembled.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Really.”

  Her fingers crept around from behind, tickling the insides of my thighs. I steadied myself against her shoulders. The darkness acted as some sort of permission slip for our exchange and I longed for her to go further. I ached for it all over. She claimed my mouth and kissed me with authority. I was lost and helpless beneath the skimming of her hands across my skin. Delicious shivers moved through me.

  “You’re so soft,” she murmured, and traced the spot where my skin met my underwear, inching my dress up my thighs for better access. The porch light lit above us, shattering the spell. I flinched at the garish beams, and our heads swiveled in tandem as the front door flew open. Courtney’s father appeared, wearing khakis and an untucked dress shirt, his stare hard. He was an average-looking guy, balding, with the blue eyes I recognized as both Courtney’s and Netta’s. Only his were smaller, colder somehow, and piercing—a major difference. Courtney straightened and let go of me slowly, as if any sudden movement might call more attention to what we’d been doing.

  “Dad,” she said, calm, in greeting. While I was mortified and praying for some sort of invisibility cloak, Courtney held her ground. Mr. Carrington’s gaze moved from Courtney’s face to mine. “This is my friend, Margaret Beringer. Maggie, meet my father, Mitchell Carrington.”

  I took a step to the side, disentangling myself from his daughter and smoothing my dress. “Hi, Mr. Carrington. Pleased to meet you.”

  Some sort of recognition flared, and he focused on my face. “You’re Henry’s daughter.”

  I nodded. “Yes. And I should apologize. We were out to dinner and were just—”

  “Saying good night,” he finished for me in a commanding voice, and opened the door wider for Courtney to enter the house. “Courtney.”

  “Good night, Maggie,” Courtney said quietly. Gone was the confident, gregarious girl I’d just spent the evening with, and in her place stood a meek and terrified version. She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze and without a word headed into the house.

  “I’m sure your parents are missing you,” Mr. Carrington said to me once we were alone.

  I nodded. “Yes, sir. I should head home.”

  His voice followed me as I descended the steps. “Send Evie my kindest regards.”

  I paused and looked back, not liking the smile now plastered across his face or the way he said my mother’s name.

  “Yes, sir. I will.”

  He stood on the steps as I pulled away, either to see me safely out of his ridiculously long driveway or to make sure I actually left the premises. One thing seemed to be clear: Mitchell Carrington knew his daughter and I had been on a date. He’d seen her hands on me, our lips
pressed together, and seemed none too happy about it.

  Chapter Seven

  The fact that I didn’t see Courtney for most of the following week left me unsettled and restless. She’d been working around the clock and hadn’t had time to get together before falling into bed exhausted each night. I wondered if there’d been fallout with her father from the night he’d walked up on us. I wondered if she was all right with all of it. I wondered what she was doing. What she was thinking about. But instead of asking, I gave her space, hoping we’d have a chance to reconnect at some point soon.

  I could be patient.

  As I fell asleep each night, I replayed the moments on her porch before we’d been discovered. Pulling her to me. Kissing her. Her body pressed to mine up against the wall. The tantalizing sensations of her hands under my dress, owning me.

  To distract myself, I put in extra hours at the Pick-Your-Own, giving my mother a break and some free time to write. Currently in the midst of novel forty-two, she was lost in a world of high-society London.

  “How are Theodore and Elmira today?” I asked as I passed through the dining room, also known as her office, on a break from work. I’d knocked off for the day after starting early with Clay and his guys, laying tarps for the new crops. My mother sat at the table tick-tacking away on the keys of her laptop.

  “He’s apologizing.”

  “What did he do this time?” I grabbed a purple Gatorade and placed it against the back of my neck, nearly keeling over at the cool relief it provided from the summer scorcher under way.

  “He called her a spoiled, uptight little rich girl.”

  I came around the table. “Well, isn’t she?”

  “Without a doubt,” my mother said. “That’s why it’s sexy. The room is filled with all this underlying tension. They could rip each other’s clothes off at any moment. They’re quite literally longing for each other.”

  “I see.” I popped the top of the Gatorade and took a long drink.

  “Do you think he should top her or the other way around?”

  “Mother.”

  “Sorry. So I hear Courtney Carrington’s back in town.”

  I froze. Why was she mentioning Courtney on the heels of our conversation about her romance novel? How much did she know exactly? Was this some sort of Jedi mom trick? “Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?” Nonchalant—that was me. Courtney was so not a big deal. Except that she was.

  “I ran into Netta at the produce section of Klein’s. She said Courtney will be staying with her father for the entire summer, but I imagine you already knew that.”

  “I did know,” I said cautiously, and headed for the stairs.

  “Just wondering why you didn’t tell me yourself is all. Are you embarrassed because I’m your mother or because Courtney’s a girl?”

  My hand froze on the banister. More like embarrassed because Courtney scared the hell out of me in a way I didn’t have answers for. Embarrassed because I was entirely out of my depth. However, those weren’t things I was prepared to admit to other humans. I faced my mother dead on and shrugged. “Just didn’t come up is all.”

  She stared at me all wise and intuitive. “Sure it didn’t. Would you mind doing me a favor?”

  “What do you need?”

  “It’s Helen Dudek’s birthday luncheon tomorrow, and I need a gift. I was thinking a pair of nice gloves from Carrington’s. Would you pick up a pair? Maybe have them giftwrapped? I can’t leave Theodore and Elmira hanging this afternoon. It would be cruel.”

  I sighed. “You’re a little transparent. I mean, I feel like you didn’t even try to be subtle this time.”

  My mother blinked at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Oh, yes, she did. My mother was a very driven woman indeed, one who enjoyed playing matchmaker in her off time.

  “Sure you don’t,” I said sarcastically, and headed upstairs to put myself together.

  After a quick shower, I selected my slim-cut jeans and a navy blue pullover, hoping I looked maybe the tiniest bit sophisticated. I ran my fingers though my newly dried hair, making sure the layers fell gently around my face. How was it that I now cared so much? Regardless, I did.

  Soft jazz music and a cool burst of air-conditioning greeted me as I walked through the automatic doors to Carrington’s. I took a deep breath and inhaled the crisp new clothes smell that Courtney had once described to me. The store was relatively busy that afternoon, but then again, it always was. I made a lap through the clothing department, taking in the new arrivals on the mannequins. There was a short-sleeve black top with a V-neck that caught my attention. I contemplated the depth of its neckline, unsure I could pull it off. For fun, I thumbed the price tag and resisted a low whistle at the news. It turned out I wouldn’t have to worry about that neckline after all.

  “That would look killer on you.”

  I met Courtney’s eyes and relaxed into a smile. She wore a black skirt and jacket combo, topped off with a stylish pair of red heels. She looked like she belonged in the midst of the opulence. “I’m confident you compliment all the customers.”

  “Believe me when I say I don’t. Looking for anything special? It would be my pleasure to help.”

  “My mother is in need of some gloves for a friend. They’re a gift.”

  “Right this way, ma’am.”

  I followed Courtney behind a nearby glass counter and perused the options. As I scanned my choices, I couldn’t help but marvel at how grown up Courtney seemed, dressed like she was and behind the counter in such an official capacity. I couldn’t help but feel proud of her. It was impressive. And…a little sexy. Okay, a lot. It was a lotta sexy all wrapped into a smokin’ blond package, and my cheeks heated just thinking about it.

  “Anything jump out at you?” she asked.

  I swallowed. I had sadly not been focused on the gloves. “I’m sorry?”

  “Do you see anything you like?”

  “Maybe,” I said, stalling. As I browsed, I felt her eyes on me, amping up the pressure. Ready to admit defeat, I leaned in and lowered my voice so the nice woman shopping next to me wouldn’t think I was a total idiot. “Look, I think you might just have to tell me which pair to go with. This is all a little beyond me. Farm kid, remember?”

  She smiled serenely. They must train them to do that, the serene smile. Courtney just so happened to rock at it. “Why don’t you give it a try? I think you’re selling yourself short.”

  I shook my head and focused. “Okay, well, these seem to be nice.” I gestured to a pair of gray gloves with white cuffs.

  “An excellent choice.” She reached into the counter and retrieved the gloves, my confidence now bolstered. Impressive.

  I followed Courtney to the register. “Why do I feel like you’re programmed to say that?”

  “Because I am. In your case, however, it happens to be true.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, I wouldn’t let you pick out a bad pair. Your mom’s friend is going to love them. If she doesn’t, bring them back.”

  “You have yourself a deal.” I paid Courtney for the gloves and accepted the bag she handed me across the upscale-looking desk. I paused and made a decision to check in. “Hey, about the other night. Is everything okay? With your dad, I mean.”

  Her smile faltered, then rebounded. “No need to worry about him. I can handle it.”

  “I don’t. I worry about you.”

  She met my eyes and smiled sincerely, as if the concept were foreign. “I’m fine, Maggie. I promise.”

  I smiled back, somehow feeling closer to her. “When do you get off?”

  Her eyes flashed to a clock on the wall to my right. “In about twenty minutes.”

  “Tell me you don’t have plans tonight.” Courtney hesitated, and I theorized why. “Is this about your father? I could tell he was pissed the other night.”

  She raised a shoulder. “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

  “Does he not want us to see each other?”

  She shot a gla
nce to a nearby coworker and directed me a few feet away. Her voice was noticeably quieter when she said, “Can we talk about this later?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.” I knew when to back off.

  “I’ll come by the farm later, if that’s okay.”

  Or maybe not. “I’ll be there. See you then.” I turned to go but paused. “Courtney, is everything all right?”

  She smiled, but it didn’t quite extend to her eyes. She seemed wary. “Everything’s good.”

  Somehow, I wasn’t buying it.

  *

  “So what’s the best way to pick one of these guys?” Courtney asked a couple hours later as we walked the western portion of the farmland. Gone were the sophisticated work clothes, and in their place were denim cutoffs and a pale blue T-shirt that brought out the color in her eyes. God, I enjoyed this version of her just as much.

  “As in, the proper technique?” I asked.

  “Exactly that. I’ll need it. This is strawberry country, and I can’t have random people making fun of my novice strawberry aesthetic.”

  “And they would. Rene from the café would have it on Facebook in no time. Did you know they started a new page dedicated to the town?”

  “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

  I shot her a sideways glance. “Best not to risk it, then. A formal lesson might be in order. Allow me.” I knelt next to a plant that looked moments away from its full potential. The fruit was bright and robust, just the way it should be before harvest. Courtney joined me and peered down at the row of plants, close enough so that her hair tickled my shoulder. I blinked purposefully and concentrated on the task at hand, hard as that was. I met her gaze, ensuring I had her attention. “So what you’ll want to do is put the stem between your fingers like so. I usually go with the middle of my hand.”

  “Like this?” she asked, placing the stem between two of her middle fingers.

  I smiled at how earnest she seemed to be to do it correctly. “That’s perfect. Next, just pull the strawberry toward you, flicking your wrist as you go.” I flicked my wrist and lifted the perfectly picked strawberry. “A clean break, see?”