by Aurora Rey
It wouldn’t be the first time Hannah had eaten her cooking, but she was excited to share what she’d come up with. She had gone with a quick roast, pairing the peas with baby radishes. She served them with a honey-brined chicken breast and creamy polenta. Summery without being delicate. She pulled out her phone again and, in the five minutes since the last time, Hannah had texted. Not hearing it made her feel better about the obsessive checking.
Heading your way.
Hannah probably hadn’t meant it that way, but something in the phrasing struck Drew as intimate. She liked it. Just come right in the back door. I’ll have it waiting for you.
Rather than bothering with a to-go ticket, she grabbed a foil container and assembled the meal herself, including a drizzle of velouté over the chicken and a sprinkling of fresh parsley. She’d just lidded it up when Hannah appeared, looking stunning despite the day of manual labor. Drew offered her an enthusiastic smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Hannah returned the smile. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“Good. I didn’t take the liberty of packing it up, but we’re doing a riff on strawberry shortcake tonight. Would you like one?”
Her eyes widened. “Where did you get strawberries? Mine won’t be ripe for another week at least.”
“Ithaca Organics, on the other side of the lake.”
Hannah shook her head. “Of course. They’ve been doing berries way longer than I have. They’ve got established plants and probably some tricks up their sleeves.”
“So, is that a no?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. I want some. I want two, but I won’t be greedy.”
She liked the idea of Hannah being greedy about dessert, or maybe indulgences more generally. “If I put two in one container, we can all pretend it’s just one.”
Hannah pointed at her. “I like the way you think.”
“Good. Give me two minutes.” Drew grabbed another container, putting two cornmeal shortcakes in it. Then she filled one paper soup cup with macerated strawberries and another with whipped cream. She returned to where Hannah stood watching Poppy plate salmon. “Let me grab a bag for you.”
“I thought you said one container.”
Drew quirked a brow. “I decided to keep things separate. You don’t want soggy shortcake and melted cream.”
Hannah laughed. “No, no I don’t.”
Drew loaded the containers into a paper bag. “No one saw what I put in. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Oh, I’m not ashamed of eating two desserts. Just requesting two.”
“I respect that distinction.” She handed Hannah the bag.
“Are you sure I can’t pay you?”
“Completely.” Drew turned at the sound of the printer spitting out a new round of tickets. “I need to take care of that.”
“Go, go. Thank you again.”
“My pleasure.” Drew leaned in to kiss her, then caught herself. She had to shake off just how natural it felt. “I’d love to know what you think when you’re done.”
“I’ll be sure to text you in the very brief period between my finishing and falling into a food coma.”
Drew grinned. “Deal.”
Drew returned to her work and Hannah stood for a moment, watching. It was the first time she’d really had the chance to see Drew in action. She moved around the kitchen with such confidence. She barked out orders, but there was no aggression in it. The staff worked seamlessly at the various stations, calling out a “yes, Chef” in response to Drew’s commands.
Drew had joked about slowing Hannah down, but farming had nothing on this. It probably came in waves, but the hustle was enough to make her head spin. She wouldn’t choose it for herself in a million years, but she had a newfound respect for Drew’s mastery.
Realizing she’d lost track of how long she’d stayed there, staring, Hannah hurried out. By the time she got home, the aromas of the food had crept into her senses. As much as she liked the idea of a nice shower and a cozy dinner on the sofa, she didn’t think she could wait that long. She put the berries and cream in the fridge to stay cold and, spying a bottle of Chardonnay, decided to pour a glass. She took it and her dinner out to the back deck, joined by an ever-optimistic Daisy. After carefully removing the lid, Hannah sighed. It looked so good.
She plucked a pea pod out with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. As promised, it still had the crunch she wanted in a sugar snap. But it had a hint of char and a kiss of garlic that was unexpected. Heaven. The chicken might have been the most delicious chicken she’d ever had and the polenta was both luxurious and comforting, even after the twenty-minute ride home. Probably for the best no one was there to see her, because she ate it all way too fast. Except for one bite.
“I don’t really want to share, but I love you.” Daisy took the chicken gently from her fingers, but then swallowed it whole. “You’re supposed to savor.”
She scraped the last of the polenta from the bottom of the container with her fork, satisfied but a little sad. Oh, but there was still the strawberry shortcake. That could wait until she was clean and in comfy clothes. She showered, her thoughts swirling between the dessert waiting for her and the image of Drew’s face—a mixture of amusement and approval—when she joked about wanting two servings. The whole thing left her aroused and confused. Not confused about being aroused, she just couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so drawn to someone.
She dried off and slipped into cotton pajama pants and a tank top. She padded back to the kitchen barefoot, grabbing the containers from the fridge. She opened the shortcake and contemplated having only one. With a shrug, she dumped the entire cup of strawberries over them and scraped a giant mound of whipped cream on top.
Hannah took the whole thing to the couch and flipped on the television. Her phone chirped just as she took the first bite. She took a second to enjoy it—the slight crunch the cornmeal imparted on the shortcake and the sweet-tart juiciness of the berries went together perfectly, complemented by the sweet cream. God, it was good.
She picked up her phone. Drew. Just seeing the name on her screen made her smile. How was your dinner?
Hannah looked from her phone to the strawberry shortcake. She snapped a photo of the inelegant mound of it and attached it to her reply. Amazing, but it’s got nothing on dessert.
She took another bite while she waited for Drew’s response. She hadn’t told Drew, but strawberry shortcake was one of her favorite desserts of all time. And this was, hands down, the best she’d ever eaten.
Good. You deserve a great meal after the days you put in.
There was something sweet about the comment. It gave Hannah a warm, fuzzy feeling until she realized warm and fuzzy was not what she wanted from Drew. Right? She shook her head. Right. Well, I can certainly put away my share. I’m eating all this shortcake, BTW.
Drew didn’t respond right away. She had a flash of disappointment, then shook her head. Drew would still be in the middle of dinner service. She took another bite of dessert and started flipping through the handful of channels she grudgingly paid for. She settled on a Mets game, flipping between that and a yard makeover show on HGTV.
It might be fun to give her yard a little sprucing up. Not like the crazy, over-the-top things on the show, but a small water feature shouldn’t be too much work. And it would attract birds. Maybe she could ask Jeremiah to help her put one in.
A text interrupted her musings. This one was from Jenn. Are you in bed yet?
She chuckled at the question. It wasn’t unheard of for her to go to bed by 8:30 at this time of year. She sent the picture she’d taken for Drew. Better than sleep.
That led to a litany of questions about whether her berries were ripe yet, why Jenn hadn’t been invited over, and why it was in a takeout container. Hannah filled her in, got another slew of questions about why she hadn’t mentioned Drew making her dinner and what it all meant. Hannah offered what she thought were perfectly reasonable ex
planations and endured some teasing about Drew having a thing for her. It was fun, as long as she didn’t think too hard about the meaning or implications.
She finished every last morsel of dessert and bid Jenn a good night. Still nothing from Drew. Which was fine. She was working. And it wasn’t like they were dating. Or flirting. Or anything, really.
Hannah brought her dishes to the kitchen, rinsing the containers and tossing them in the recycle bin, then pouring a glass of water to take to bed. The moon was nearly full, so she made her way upstairs without turning on any lights, switched on her fan, and crawled under the covers. Daisy curled up on her bed with a contented sigh. She’d just started to doze when her phone went off.
I so enjoy a woman with a healthy appetite. Looking forward to next week when we can finally share a meal. Have a good night.
There was nothing overly suggestive in the comment. It made no sense that her body would respond the way it did. But telling herself that didn’t seem to make a lick of difference. She returned the wishes for a good night and set her phone on the nightstand. Then she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She was looking forward to next week, too.
Chapter Ten
The days of late June clocked in as some of the longest, but that didn’t stop them from flying by. Hannah worked twelve-hour days, breaking up physical labor with time at the farm stand. Summer was shaping up to be sunny and warmer than average. Most of the crops loved it, even if the spinach and arugula kept bolting and needing to be replanted. They’d have tomatoes by mid-July if her irrigation didn’t put too much pressure on the wells.
Clare was in the final days of the school year, so she spent almost every afternoon at the farm, managing the stand and working on the website. Her energy was such a welcome addition. Not that the rest of the staff lagged, but something about teenage zeal proved infectious.
And, of course, she had that date to look forward to.
Well, maybe a date. Drew hadn’t called it a date. And despite her back and forth with Jenn, if they were in any sort of gray area, Hannah needed to keep them firmly out of date territory. Because dates might lead to kissing and kissing might lead to sex and having sex with a cocky city-dweller went against every ounce of sense she had.
Even though thinking about spending time alone with Drew made her insides fluttery. Even if, the week before, she’d given way too much thought to what she’d wear. Even if, the night of, she consciously dabbed perfume behind each ear and between her breasts.
She told herself for the hundredth time it didn’t mean anything as she climbed into her truck and headed to the address Drew had given her. She pulled in and found Drew sitting on her porch, looking easy and relaxed and every bit the part of the casual country butch. Her throat went dry and she had to remind herself Drew wasn’t that at all. She might look like Hannah’s fantasy come to life, but that whole thing about looks being deceiving? It was a saying for a reason.
Snap out of it. She rolled down the window and waved a greeting.
Drew returned the wave and stood. She’d imagined what Hannah would look like behind the wheel, but it was even better in reality. Whatever she had on showed off her arms, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
She walked over to the passenger side, set her things on the wide bench seat, and climbed in. It was probably good to have so much space between them. It made it less likely she’d lean over and kiss Hannah’s freckled shoulder. “Hi there.”
Hannah smiled. “Hi. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Just enjoying the afternoon. I’ve never had a porch before.”
“I bought my house for the deck more than the inside.”
Drew chuckled. “I’m beginning to understand the appeal.”
“All set?”
She buckled her seat belt, one of those old metal ones with the release button in the middle. “All set.”
Hannah backed out of the driveway. With Hannah’s attention on the road, Drew gave herself permission to study her. The juxtaposition of the old truck and Hannah in a bright fuchsia sundress made her smile. It should have been jarring, but somehow it suited Hannah perfectly.
Not wanting to be caught staring, she turned her gaze to the scenery. Sunlight dappled the road, shifting as the breeze ruffled the trees. Flashes of the lake appeared as the road curved and dipped. Winter was probably an absolute bitch, but Drew was ready to concede that summer upstate had a lot going for it.
Hannah turned off Route 89 onto an unmarked road that ran between row after row of grapevines. They’d been just starting to bud when she arrived but now boasted lush green leaves. A pair of workers in straw hats worked in one of the rows, stripping some of the leaves away. At the sight of the truck, both waved, which Hannah returned.
“Do you know them?” Drew asked.
“Pete and Bill. They own the Thirsty Owl. We’re crashing one of their lookout spots.”
Drew chuckled. “Is there anyone in a twenty-mile radius you don’t know?”
“Plenty of people. But they’re old friends from my farmer’s market days. Our stalls were right next to each other.”
Drew tried to think of something comparable in the city. She had other chef friends, considered herself friendly with some of the suppliers she’d met along the way. But even within the restaurants where she’d worked, she’d lacked that casual sense of community. Did it have to do with her line of work or geography? Or was it her?
“Why do you look sad all of a sudden?” Hannah looked at her with concern.
“Huh?” She shook her head. “Oh, nothing. I’m fine. Not sad, just reminiscing I guess.”
“Okay.” Hannah didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press it. She turned again, this time onto either a driveway or a dirt road. She slowed, but the truck still jostled with ruts and potholes. “Not much farther.”
They pulled into a clearing, surrounded by vineyard to the back, trees and undergrowth to the left. In front of them, a wide vista of Cayuga Lake and the rolling hills on the opposite shore. “Wow.”
“You asked for the best spot.”
The view chased away any melancholy thoughts. “And you definitely delivered. This is gorgeous.”
Hannah cut the engine and unlatched her seatbelt. “It’s not technically public, but I could put in a good word for you. As long as they recognize your car, you’ll be fine.”
Drew studied her, decided to take a chance. “Or I could just always come here with you.”
Hannah smiled and, if Drew wasn’t mistaken, blushed. “I guess we’ll have to see how good your picnic is.”
She liked where this was going. “Shall we?”
Drew grabbed the picnic basket and cooler. Hannah pulled a blanket from behind the bench seat. She spread it out and took the basket. They sat down, Hannah slipping off her sandals and tucking her feet beneath her. The view of the lake had nothing on that.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
Hannah quirked a brow. “I’m a farmer. I’m always hungry.”
Drew laughed, both at the sentiment and the phrase. She opened the cooler first, taking out the Riesling she’d chilled the night before. “I hope you’re thirsty, too. Although I feel bad drinking the competition’s product on winery grounds.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
She handed over the bottle and corkscrew. “If you open this, I’ll get glasses.”
Hannah opened the wine and watched as Drew pulled out not only wineglasses but plates and silverware from the basket. “I hope you know I’d be just as happy with plastic utensils and paper towels.”
Drew winked. “Now where’s the charm in that?”
She poured two glasses, then handed the bottle back to Drew, who tucked it into the now empty cooler. Between the cooler and the picnic basket, Drew had set out no fewer than ten takeout containers and plastic tubs. “Do you always go overboard?”
“I believe if something is worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” Her t
one was playful but held the promise of double meaning.
Hannah swallowed. “I can’t disagree with you there.”
Drew opened containers. Cheese and salami, sliced baguette, a farro salad, fruit, pickled vegetables, and more. They took turns filling their plates and Hannah dove in. “This is really good.”
“I tried to keep it simple.” Drew grinned. “I know how you feel about fussy food.”
Hannah laughed. “I’m pretty sure simple picnic fare is sandwiches and a bag of chips, but I’m not complaining.”
“Well, you have to grant me artistic license at least.”
“I suppose.” She helped herself to more of the farro. It had radishes and pistachios and what tasted like mint. She’d never have dreamed of putting those things together, but it worked. More, it tapped into all the things that were fresh and available at the moment. “I’m sorry I ever questioned your talent.”
“Did you?” Drew’s tone was more curious than offended.
“Not your talent, exactly. More whether you’d fit in here, be good for Nick’s restaurant.”
“And the verdict?”
“You’re good.”
Drew laughed, a low, rich sound that drove Hannah nuts, in a good way. “You’re kind of stingy with the compliments.”
Hannah straightened her shoulders. Probably not a good idea to do the flirty banter thing with Drew, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “You’re talented. But even more importantly, you’re good in the kitchen. The staff seems to really like you, the customers love you. Nick is so pleased. That’s what matters.”
“I don’t think I realized how close you two are.”
“He was super tight with my older brothers when I was growing up. You’d think that would be enough to make us mortal enemies.”
Drew tipped her head. “I guess that would depend on how much he tortured you.”
“Very little.” Hannah smiled at the memory. “If anything, he was a calming presence. I had such a crush on him but never wanted to kiss him. It’s part of what helped me realize I was a lesbian.”