A Farm Fresh Romance Series 1-3 (A Farm Fresh Romance Box Set)

by Valerie Comer

  “You didn’t answer me, man.”

  “Look, her dad hauled her family all over the lower forty-eight while she was growing up. Her brothers are bums. Her — never mind.”

  What other man had been in her life that Zach had been about to mention? “I have no intention of hurting her, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s a cute girl. I could use a friend while I’m in the neighborhood. What’s wrong with asking her out a few times?” Whoa. How did his mouth get so far ahead of his brain, anyway?

  Zach’s eyes searched his for a long moment. “It’s a free country.” He strode away, Domino loping at his side.

  Chapter 6

  “Full house!” sang out The Sizzling Skillet’s hostess.

  Claire wiped her white sleeve across her forehead and scraped a stir-fry onto an ironstone plate. “Order thirty-two up.” She slid the line of clipped orders and glanced over the next several.

  Once she’d thrived in this type of environment, wanting nothing more than to own a busy restaurant with her own name above the door in sparkling lights. But that had been then and this was now. Yes, it would make a difference if she were the boss. She’d set her own menu instead of making the same old recipes that had been used in countless diners for half a century.

  A crash reverberated through the kitchen. Claire barely dared to glance up with all the meals she had going.

  “Stupid clumsy kid,” shouted the prep cook. “Sweep it up.”

  “What happened?” Claire called out, whisking a sauce so it wouldn’t scorch.

  “Dropped an entire stack of clean plates.”

  Claire cringed. Better to drop dirty ones. The place had been so busy they’d all been having trouble keeping up, and the new dishwasher kid was no exception.

  Of course, better to drop no dishes at all.

  “That does it. I quit.”

  Don called the poor kid every name under the sun.

  “Cut it out, Don.” Claire moved the sauce off the heat. “It’s not like he meant to. Come over here for a minute when you’re done sweeping, Tony. I could use a hand.”

  “We could use some more clean plates.” Don shoved past her and thrust the broom into the lad’s hands. “He’ll burn the food.”

  “Can you sweep that up quick, Tony?” Claire looked at the gangly teen. Barely more than a kid, he probably thought working a shift or two a week would buy all the video games he could want. “Then please come talk to me before you leave.”

  The teen shot her a surprised look, most likely at the please. Or maybe that she took his quitting seriously. Well, she would if she had to, but with any luck and a little respect, she’d get him to stick out the shift and even come back next weekend for another one.

  Tony’s lips drew into a tight line as he awkwardly handled the broom and dustpan.

  More mamas should teach their kids how to sweep. It was all Claire could do not to go over there and do it for him. She might’ve if she didn’t have every burner going and half the griddle full.

  She could drop everything and return to Seattle. Michel actually wanted her ideas, unlike Nevin, who seemed threatened whenever one of her few acceptable additions took off. He’d cut her Eggplant Parmigiana out of the menu only last month, after it built good reviews from the town.

  “Yes’m.” Tony stood at her elbow, glowering down at her.

  She pointed a spatula at the far corner of the griddle then pressed the utensil into his hand. “Mind stirring that pile?”

  “Me? I said I quit.”

  “Yes, you. That pile of veggies. Quickly, before they burn.” Gambling a client’s dinner on winning the boy back? She’d probably lose.

  He huffed a big sigh and shoved the vegetables around a bit.

  “Like this.” Claire scrambled the next pile over, making sure the pieces browned evenly.

  Just the smell of all these conflicting foods made her queasy.

  Tony awkwardly tried to follow suit. “Why am I doing this? I don’t wanna be here.”

  “Now you’re in charge of both those mounds. Keep them moving, okay?” She began plating up the order. “Are you usually a quitter, Tony?”

  He startled. “Me? No.”

  “Then why start now? Toss the veggies beside the couscous here, please.”

  She heard his sharp intake of breath, but she was too busy filling the plates with the rest of the entree to pay attention.

  A waitress set a heavily loaded tray of dirty dishes on the counter. “Need clean glasses and coffee cups!”

  Tony shrank down beside Claire as though he could hide behind her. He might be skinny enough to do it horizontally but, at a head taller, he couldn’t hide.

  “Thirty-four up,” called Claire, setting the plates they’d just loaded onto the shelf and pulling the heat lamp down.

  “Claire? Can I go now?”

  She glanced over her cooking surfaces. Nothing was going to burn in the next few seconds. “Do you want a negative mark on your conscience, Tony? Or do you just want to put your head down and do your job to the best of your ability?”

  Tony’s chin jutted in Don’s direction. “He doesn’t need to yell at me all the time.”

  “He probably doesn’t, but if you’ll notice, he yells at everybody. Even Nevin when he’s in here. It’s how he copes with pressure.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Claire began plating an order of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. “But quitting is also a stupid way of coping.”

  Tony’s shoulders slumped a little.

  “Why don’t you go run a load or two of dishes through? Keep that machine humming until they’re all done. Might be midnight before we’re cleaned and caught up.” Horrid thought. “Then think through your decision when you’re not under the stress of the moment.”

  The boy sighed. “I guess.”

  She met his gaze. “Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate it.” She poured a ladle of gravy on the mashed potatoes and added less-than-perfect vegetables to the side. “Order thirty-three up.”

  “I wish I could cook like you. That’d be way more fun than running the dishwasher.”

  Claire allowed a small smile to play around her lips. “I washed plates all through high school, Tony. It’s the apprenticeship system restaurants work under. Do a good job and when the time comes, you’ll be ready to move up.”

  “Really?” A lilt of hope lifted his voice.

  “Yep, really.” Maybe this was why she was here. Not just for her, but for kids like Tony.

  **

  Elmer’s farm had turned into a campground over the weekend with a bunch of tents, a few truck campers, and several bigger rigs. Noel had arranged for four biffy-in-a-jiffy outhouses on site. A series of solar shower bags, fed by Elmer’s garden hose, hovered above a hand-wash station. The cook trailer had been angled in beside the tarped-over mess area with its picnic tables. He might need to replace the canvas by next year.

  But though he was ready for the season to start at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning — he wasn’t. He’d been doing this, what, ten years? He’d started tree-planting summers in college and spent a few seasons fighting fires. He’d dug tens of thousands of holes and plopped tens of thousands of seedlings into them over the years. He still put in long hours next to his crew most days.

  He was getting too old for this. He stared at the ceiling of his trailer, listening to his crew’s laughter around the distant campfire as old friends reunited. A bit of booze probably passed from one to another. Jess was out there. She wouldn’t let it get out of hand.

  Good money, and he loved being in the backwoods. Besides, it paid for long vacations in the tropics. Somehow it didn’t seem enough any more, when a few weeks ago he was certain he’d still be doing this at fifty.

  What happened? What changed things for him? Nothing had gone wrong. It was shaping up to be a lucrative year, maybe one of his best yet. So what was the problem?

  Claire. It wasn’t just her, but Amber. Yea
h, his little sister had her annoying moments but she’d done a lot of growing up since Shawn had come on the scene a couple of years ago. Those two were crazy in love, kind of like Zach and Jo over at Green Acres. Amber was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that she and Shawn were destined to be together forever. That God had brought them into each other’s lives.

  God wasn’t that involved in Noel’s life. Course maybe he wasn’t asking, either. Mostly he figured the Big Guy would still be around when Noel was ready to settle down and take life seriously. Which wasn’t now.

  He wasn’t cut out for the kind of love and trust Amber had. He hadn’t seen a lot of good role modeling in his life. In that way he and Claire were a lot alike from what Zach had said. Noel’s own father had drifted off when Noel was just a little kid, leaving only a few wispy bittersweet memories behind. He’d been in touch a few times, more often in recent years, but they had no relationship.

  With Noel’s penchant for wandering, maybe he already had too much of his father in him. A woman would be destined to let him go after a while. His kids would suffer, if he were lucky — or unlucky? — enough to have any.

  No, there wasn’t any room for a woman like Claire in his life. She deserved better than him. She didn’t need a drifter.

  If only she’d stop drifting through his mind, then, and let him get to sleep.

  **

  “Makes for a lot more traffic past our place, doesn’t it?” Sierra stared out the living room window as several cargo vans drove past.

  Claire flopped onto a love seat. “Doesn’t take much for it to be more, living at the end of the road as we do.”

  “Or so we thought. We should head up that logging road sometime and see where Noel’s crew is planting trees.”

  The smile slid off Claire’s face. “Why?”

  Sierra turned back into the room. “Why not? I’ve never seen an operation like that. Have you?”

  “Nope. I’m not that interested.” She’d be more curious if it weren’t so high up there.

  “Aw, come on. And here I thought you kind of fell under that guy’s charm the other day.”

  “He’s the brother of our first bride. That’s all.” She held Sierra’s gaze for a long moment. “Which reminds me, have you checked out what quantity we can buy through Nature’s Pantry on some of the bulk orders?”

  A shadow crossed Sierra’s face. “I talked to Doreen. She figures we should go through the regular route as she doesn’t really have the connections we need.”

  Claire hated to admit defeat and open her own account with the food service companies. Not to mention word might get back to Nevin before she was ready to tell him herself what Saturday nights she’d need off this summer. He’d probably blow a fuse.

  She couldn’t wait to be rid of him by whatever method it took.

  Short of murder.

  Barely.

  She heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’d much rather deal with a health food store than one of these big companies who refuse to understand the words organic or sustainable.”

  “Amber wants those little chicken breast roll-ups.”

  “We can’t buy thirty birds and only use the breasts.”

  Sierra dropped into the other love seat across from Claire. “Sure we can, if we get a couple cases of breasts from the food service guys.”

  Claire straightened. “That goes agai—”

  “Oh, I know. I’m just saying there is a way. We could also buy thirty birds, use the breasts for the wedding, and eat drums and thighs ourselves all winter.”

  “Yuck.”

  The grimace on Sierra’s face was mirrored on her own. “Something else to consider . . .” Sierra let her words peter out.

  “Hmm?”

  “There will be other weddings. What if those brides want chicken breasts too?”

  Claire stared at her friend while the gears in her brain spun wildly, barely contacting each other. “B-but . . .”

  “If we’re thinking bigger, we need to think bigger. Lots bigger.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “We need menus that use the whole bird, which is just an example, of course. Same problem with beef, pork, you name it.”

  They’d managed easily as a group of roommates. Whatever odd cuts of meat came with the halves or wholes they’d bought from local farmers—they used them all up before ordering again. Even if it meant someone had to get creative with pork hocks or beef brisket.

  “So you’re saying if Amber wants chicken breast roll-ups, she also gets some kind of chicken salad that uses the dark meat.”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  Claire nodded, pondering. “We kind of jumped into this without thinking everything through.”

  “Kind of. But we’re quick learners.” Sierra winked.

  Claire took a deep breath. Was she? Didn’t seem like it some days. She’d thought she learned her lesson with Graham Maxwell. The lesson was simple — men do not equal security. In fact, they’re the antithesis of security.

  And here she was, three years later with another man wedged in her brain. Graham was long gone. Fine. She’d missed him at first, missed the idea of the refuge he seemed to have offered. But it hadn’t been real, and she’d become very glad since they’d parted ways. Rumor had it he’d married a nurse last year, and she wished them all the best.

  Really. Someone else could be at his globetrotting side. Someone suited for it. Thankfully that someone was not her.

  If she were destined to be attracted to some guy again — she would not call it falling in love — reason said it should be a solid stable guy who lived right here in Galena Landing. Not some transient worker who wasn’t committed enough to his family to promise to attend his own sister’s wedding.

  She could do without Noel in her life or in her head, thank-you-very-much. Too bad she’d told herself a hundred times a day this week, and it wasn’t making a dent.

  “Earth to Claire.”

  She blinked, focusing on Sierra, who stood in front of the computer desk farther down the great room. “Yes?”

  Sierra shot her a look. “We got us another one, looks like.”

  Claire gave her head a shake. “Another one what?”

  “Another inquiry. This one’s for September.”

  “Another wedding?” Claire surged to her feet and headed for the computer. She dropped into the chair, Sierra leaning over her shoulder, and read through the message sent by their website’s contact form. “At least there’s more seasonal food to choose from in September.”

  “That’s true.”

  Claire glanced up. “Is it really this easy? Are we in business?” She couldn’t wait to tell Nevin she was quitting. Of course, it would take more than two weddings a year to equal her current income, but still. Maybe it wasn’t just a pipe dream. Maybe it could be a reality.

  “Isobel says she’s from Wynnton, so that’s cool. It’s not too far for everyone to drive.”

  Guilt smote Claire. Were they crazy? Destination weddings meant airline seats and cars and all the rest, but people would get married anyway. Transportation costs and carbon footprint weren’t good enough reasons to leave the wedding catering to someone else.

  Sierra nudged Claire’s shoulder. “Looks like we’re in business.”

  How many happy brides could she stand to be around? At least she couldn’t possibly fall for all their brothers. One was enough.

  Chapter 7

  It’d been a cold, drizzly Friday morning. Noel had taken the day off planting to attend to paperwork, the bane of his existence. When the rain stopped and the sun poked through, sending a glow through the gloom, he pulled out his camera-equipment-laden backpack for a trek through the wet woods on the hillside just past Green Acres.

  Noel adjusted his camera on the tripod ever so slightly to frame a macro shot. Moss drooping off an aspen begged for a series of them. He’d been having a lot of fun with this weird lighting for nearly an hour now and itched to see some
of the photos on his laptop back at Elmer’s.

  He set the timer to snap the shot. Even the touch of his finger might blur the image. He held his breath until it clicked, then stepped closer to shift the camera to catch more of the bark.

  A slight rustling in the wet leaves behind him caught him off guard. He nearly knocked the camera off the tripod as he whirled to see.

  Claire, her eyes wide, stood poised for flight, looking about as shocked as he was to see her. She peered out from beneath the sheltering hood of a tan raincoat. Her jeans had been tucked into vibrant pink rubber boots.

  He laughed at the sight of the boots. They were just too much.

  A multitude of emotions whisked across her face in rapid succession. “Hi. I didn’t mean to startle you. I mean, I didn’t even know you were here. I just needed some time out of the house breathing clean air before going to work tonight.”

  “No apologies necessary.” And indeed, they weren’t. She was a rest for eyes that had intently peered at moss and bark and leaves for far too long. She’d be a respite no matter what. “I hope I’m not bothering you here. I thought I was off Green Acres land?”

  No question. He’d seen the property marker. But she might need the benefit of the doubt.

  Claire nodded. “Technically, you’re right.” She pointed to an eight-foot tall deer fence, partially masked behind wild vines, farther up the hill. “We do hold the water rights to the spring that’s protecting.”

  He’d noticed but been too focused on macro shots to give it any thought. Now he stared at the fence for a moment. Anything to rip his gaze from this pretty girl with short brown hair peeking from her hood. She’d been mighty gorgeous the day she’d come to apply for the job, but so much more approachable in her everyday clothes. He unscrewed the camera from the stand and held it up to atone for his trespassing, though of course he wasn’t. Trespassing. Or even atoning.

  How could one woman addle his brains this badly?

  Claire moved closer, her pink boots squishing through the wet, partially decomposed leaves on the forest floor and through a patch of wild mint.