“Maybe. But I doubt it.” She eyed Claire speculatively.
This was uncomfortable. Claire took a few steps away. Maybe the two would follow her. Zach’s car pulled in on the other side of Amber’s, with the other members of the Green Acres team. Claire couldn’t face the knowing smirks from everyone.
She glanced over her shoulder to see if Amber and Noel were coming, just in time to catch Noel’s gaze travel down the length of her body.
He caught her watching him and winked. In two long strides he caught up and bumped her shoulder with his arm. “You’re looking gorgeous today. That color really suits you.”
Claire looked down at her red and gray striped top and gray slacks. Her face felt like it’d match her blouse any time now. “Um, thanks.”
“Got a question for you.” His voice remained low.
Behind them, Claire could hear the rest of the group chatting as they all moved toward the church doors. This couldn’t possibly be a good time for a private question such as he hinted at, but she couldn’t help herself. “Oh?”
“Has there been no one in your life to tell you how attractive you are? Every time I tell you, it seems I embarrass you, and you don’t believe me. What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
He couldn’t possibly want to know she thought her mouth was too large and her nose too short. Then he’d start seeing the same flaws and stop complimenting her. And she didn’t want to talk about her mouth. Not after yesterday’s kiss.
They’d reached the church steps. “This isn’t the time, Noel.”
He stretched to open the door, and his eyes caught hers for a brief moment. “Trust me. You’re beautiful.”
She swept past him and heard him say something to Amber and Sierra. He’d held the door for all of them, then, like a true gentleman. Why, oh why, had he come to church? The one sanctuary she had to gather her strength for the upcoming week, and now she’d have trouble focusing. With her luck he’d sit right behind her and she’d feel his eyes on the back of her head the entire service.
Claire didn’t linger in the foyer but filed into a pew between Sierra and Amber as quickly as she could urge them to come.
“He’s fallen hard,” Sierra whispered.
Claire shot her a frustrated look. Noel made no attempt to hide his attraction. Of course, Sierra picked up on it. Too bad no one could help Claire deal with it.
Though this might remove the x from beside number one item on her list and turn it into a check. Not just for coming to church, of course, but if this was the beginning of Noel turning to God. Returning, she corrected. He’d grown up in the church.
Sierra nudged Claire again, but this time her gaze went past Claire’s head. Claire glanced up.
Noel edged his way past Shawn and Amber, gesturing for Amber to scoot over.
Claire closed her eyes and breathed a prayer as heat flooded up her face. No way could she look at Sierra — or at Noel, who now wedged himself tightly between her and Amber.
He presumed so much. It seemed to be his nature to believe he was wanted wherever he went. That she desired his presence as much as he seemed to want hers.
The problem was, he wasn’t precisely wrong.
**
Church was the same and yet different from how Noel remembered. Some of the hymns sounded familiar, and other songs had a decided contemporary edge. There sure never had been drums on the stage — dais — whatever they called the raised thing in a church — when he was growing up. He ought to remember. Platform?
The shocker came when the middle-aged drummer read the scripture and then delivered the sermon. It caught Noel so far off guard he actually paid more attention than he’d expected.
The guy — the paper in his sister’s hands said he was Pastor Ron — talked about plans, and how everybody made them, just some more detailed than others.
Noel scootched down in the bench and crossed his ankles then his arms, shifting slightly away from his sister and closer to Claire. He liked the warmth of Claire’s shoulder and hip pressed up against his. If he were really into planning stuff he’d arrange for that, and more, to happen a whole lot more often.
The pastor guy said folks should be paying a lot less attention to their own plans and spending more time asking God for His. Nice thought. That seemed to indicate God could be trusted, and Noel wasn’t convinced.
“We say to one another, let us go to this town or that and stay for a year, creating wealth for ourselves,” the pastor said. “But it is all meaningless. The author of Ecclesiastes got that right. If we’re ignoring God’s plan for our lives, that’s all we have. Chaff the wind can blow away at a moment’s notice. Nothing valuable, nothing lasting. It looks good for a time but, when all is said and done, our lives have been spent on worthless things.”
Yeah, well, Noel had been there and done that. Like he’d reminded Jess, he’d already changed from party animal to someone who thought things through a bit better. He’d never have turned Enterprising Reforestation into the kind of business he had if he hadn’t grown up a little.
Still, his plans sounded a lot like what the pastor dude said—a plan to stay in one place for a predetermined amount of time to make money. Hey, so what? It was the nature of his chosen field. A guy couldn’t live in one spot and plant trees year round for decades on end. And somebody had to keep the forest healthy. Why not him? He loved the outdoors, the sound of wind in the trees, the smell of rocks and dirt heated by the sun, the glimpse of deer and bears and chipmunks, the taste of wild huckleberries and strawberries warm from the sun.
He was made for nature.
The pastor’s voice drew him back in as he gave examples of people who had planned well and done great things, yet on their deathbeds realized that nothing they’d done had eternal value.
Noel was young, barely thirty. There was plenty of time for serious thoughts later, when he’d lived a little. He shifted uncomfortably.
Claire glanced his way then returned her gaze to the pastor. Her lips were parted as she soaked in the teaching and jotted an occasional note into a pad open on her lap, beside her Bible.
She lived and breathed this stuff. And no amount of Noel sitting beside her in church would fool her into thinking he believed like she did.
Right. She was here, for now, and so was he. He’d let things happen as they were meant to, and see how things unfolded. Wasn’t that what the guy meant? Not to live on his own plans?
“A life lived for God has true purpose that will last beyond this blip of time,” the pastor said.
Claire nodded.
Noel was sunk.
**
Only five days into the regimen and already Claire wondered what she’d signed on for. It took a solid four hours in the morning — starting at 3:30 — to cook breakfast for the crew and scrub up the kitchen and mess area. By mid-afternoon she was back, this time with Tony, creating a delicious meal and dessert, plus prepping up sandwiches. As soon as Jess dropped off the large empty coolers, Claire and Tony packed them with fresh ice and the next day’s lunches, ready for Noel to swing into the bed of his pickup and haul back up the mountain in the morning.
Noel ducked into the cook shack. “Hey, gorgeous. I brought you something.”
Tony snickered.
Cheeks flushed, Claire glanced up.
“Not talking to you, kid.” Noel cuffed Tony’s shoulder.
Tony looked at Claire, a smirk lining his face. “I figured.”
Had everyone in camp noticed Noel had a crush on her? That’s all it was.
Noel hovered over her. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“Um, sure. What did you bring me?”
He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t sound the least bit curious. Can’t you do better than that?”
She pushed hair off her face with her forearm. “Nope. I’m busy making rhubarb crisp for tonight. I don’t have time to play games.”
“Well, then.” Noel reached over and tucked the errant strand behi
nd her ear. “I guess I’ll just have to show you.”
Claire’s temple tingled from his touch as she shifted away and renewed the effort to cut butter into the sugar and oats. “Guess so.”
He pulled a paper bag from behind his back. “Look what’s in here.”
Curious, she obliged. Her eyes widened at the sight of the cone-shaped fungi. “Morels? Where’d you find them?” Those had to be her favorite wild mushrooms.
“We’re planting in an old burn area. Can you use these?”
Claire shook her head. “Not for the crew. First off there’s not enough, but more to the point, the health inspector would have something to say about them not coming from a distributor.”
Tony peered into the bag. “Wild mushrooms? Those things are dangerous. They can kill a person.” He backed away.
Claire shrugged. “Sure they can, if you don’t know what you’re picking. Morels are pretty distinctive, though.” She pulled one out of the bag and held it up for Tony. “See how the flutes look like little sponges?”
He’d backed up almost to the door as though the very presence of one might kill him.
“Get a grip, kid.” Noel blocked Tony’s getaway. “Restaurants pay a premium for these babies. A few of my buddies spend months every year following the mushrooms and selling them to brokers. Some even get shipped to Japan.”
“Really?” Tony looked from Noel to Claire and back again. “You’re kidding me.”
“He’s right, Tony. We used them in the restaurant in Seattle, bought them from reputable brokers. Morels and oyster mushrooms and shaggy manes. Occasionally some other kinds, too. Nobody ever died.”
“So you’re saying I’m not reputable?”
Claire looked at Noel. “Didn’t say that. Personally, I’d eat them no problem, I’m just not allowed to serve them in a commercial kitchen.” She waved a hand to indicate the assembly line meal prep she and Tony had been involved in.
“Got a few minutes to spare?” Noel stepped closer. “Maybe we can fry these up in a little butter and have a snack, just us.”
It seemed really important to him. Claire ran a mental checklist and nodded. “We could take five.”
“Count me out.” Tony eyed the mushrooms warily.
Noel upended the mushroom bag onto a clean cutting board and brushed dirt off the fungi. He parked a cast iron skillet onto a burner, cranked the heat, and dropped a generous pat of butter in. Then he turned back to coarse-chop the mushrooms.
Claire’s eyes widened. It had never crossed her mind he’d know his way around a kitchen.
He glanced up, catching her staring, and winked as he scraped the mushrooms into the frying pan.
The enticing woodsy aroma of the sautéing morels all but dissolved Claire’s knees. She’d have to get him to tell her where he’d found them so she could keep an eye on that spot in upcoming years.
After he was gone.
Tony edged closer, peering into the pan. “They smell good.”
Claire couldn’t wait any longer. She stabbed a couple of slices and lifted them to her lips, blowing so her mouth wouldn’t scorch.
“Wait a sec, let me salt and pepper them. You can’t eat them that way.”
She pulled the slices off the fork with her teeth. The delectable, earthy flavor nearly melted in her mouth. She reached out to snag some more. “I can, and I will.”
Noel blocked her while seasoning the remains in the pan. He jerked his chin at Tony. “Grab a fork, kid. Give it a try.”
Tony eyed Claire as she reached around Noel to stab more. “You’re not putting me on?”
Noel laughed. “Not a chance. You’ve just got to leave half of them for Claire.” With that he turned down the heat and forked a few into his own mouth.
“Okay.” Tony watched them both for a couple of more seconds before making a tentative try. A beatific expression crossed the boy’s face. “Oh, wow.”
“Exactly.” Noel nodded, tucking his arm around Claire as though he only meant to pull her closer to the skillet. “Here you go, have some more.”
Maybe she should add one more item to her list. Must know how to find and cook wild fungi. Only, who but Noel would ever be able to check that one off?
Chapter 18
The email at the top of Noel’s inbox taunted him. He’d been blocking his next contract from his mind, but this missive required an answer.
A basic reply, really. Simply a confirmation of his crew’s expected start date higher in the mountains further east. Three weeks.
Photographs of Claire, sticky-tacked over his workspace, smiled at him, glared at him, or looked pensively away. He hadn’t fulfilled his promise of getting more photos taken for her website. She hadn’t mentioned it since the day he’d kissed her.
True, the farm greened up a lot since then, looking far more like the English garden setting engaged couples probably sought. Photos now would do a much better job of showcasing the natural and tended beauty of the place. And it was beautiful.
Maybe next Sunday afternoon he’d talk Claire into a photo excursion around the place then follow up on Jess’s suggestion. A picnic. Claire had been shocked he could cook, though she’d tried to hide it. He’d do a whole dinner for her, maybe take her up to the planting site and show her where all her food was being turned into fuel.
That didn’t help him with his email from Ben Brower.
The spring contract was coming to an end, right on schedule. For the first time in Noel’s life, he wasn’t craning his neck to catch a glimpse of what would come next. No, he wished these days could linger on, possibly forever.
With a heavy sigh he clicked reply.
Simon would be rejoining the crew in Montana. He was a great cook, far better than Polly, but lacked some of the touches the crew had grown used to with Claire.
Homemade cookies. Fresh produce. Tasty whole-grain breads—some made by Claire. No anemic white for this gal.
Right. She’d be staying here, and he’d be moving on. He’d keep one foot moving forward, but he’d enjoy every minute of Claire’s company that could be had before he must leave.
Yes, Ben. We’ll be there the first week of July.
He stared at the words on his screen and wished he could delete them. Then hit send.
**
“How about a shot of the sweet peas growing up the arbor?” Sierra pointed out.
There wasn’t much Claire could add to this situation. Sierra had the eye for all this, knowing what the online photo album should include. Noel had the photographic skill to make Sierra’s vision a reality.
He moved his tripod closer and zoomed in for a macro.
What could Claire do? Yeah, she could cook. She could make her plates look amazing, but they weren’t doing food today. When Noel had suggested the afternoon for a photo shoot, she’d offered a meal, and he refused.
“I’m whisking you off for dinner,” he’d said, his brown eyes glinting with mischief.
Why couldn’t she say “no” to him? Why couldn’t she remember her checklist, now tucked under her pillow and as tattered as Amber’s, proved Noel was not the right guy? Sure she’d added a few items, tailor-made for him, but those didn’t counter-balance the first few lines.
Not just the mushroom thing, but the light in his eyes, his gentle touch, his amazing knack of finding her eyes across the crowded mess tent — even his perpetually unshaven face.
“Claire? What do you think?” Sierra waved a hand in front of Claire’s face.
Claire blinked to orientate herself. She kept spacing out daydreaming about things that could never be.
“Think about what?” Then she realized Sierra had threaded a panel of lace through the latticework supporting the sweet peas. “Oh. That looks really nice.” And it did. It romanticized the pastel blossoms even further.
“Honestly, I don’t know where your brain is at.” Sierra, standing slightly behind Noel, tipped her head toward him, and winked at Claire.
Thankfully Noel’s atte
ntion focused on her, not Sierra. He gave her the gentle, private smile she’d come to treasure.
Claire gave her head a shake. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to concentrate better.”
Noel put the cap on his camera lens. “That’s probably enough for today, anyway. I’ll get more next Saturday during that retirement party.”
The one Claire would be missing due to cooking for his crew. There was something wrong about that.
“We could do a few more still. I have some ideas.” Sierra looked from Noel to Claire.
Noel crossed to his customized backpack and nestled the camera inside. “Nah, that’s good. Claire and I need lots of time for our dinner date.”
Heat infused Claire’s cheeks. Had she agreed to a date? He’d asked her for dinner. She supposed that was a date. Probably.
He glanced at her and grinned. “There’s one problem, Claire. You’re way too dressed up.”
She looked down at her tan capris and frilly tank. This wasn’t precisely formal wear. If only he’d tell her where they were going. But no. All he said was it wasn’t The Sizzling Skillet. A good thing as she hadn’t really been on speaking terms with Nevin for the past month. She cocked her head at Noel. “What’s suitable, then?”
“I’d suggest jeans and hikers. Or those cute pink boots. Possibly a hoodie in case it gets cool later on.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “I don’t know any restaurant for which that’s the preferred dress code.”
Noel’s brown eyes held hers. “Who said anything about a restaurant?”
Claire’s hands found her hips. “Usually assumed when going out for dinner.”
That wicked grin swept his face. “You assumed incorrectly.” He poked his chin toward the house. “Go get changed. Time’s a-wastin’.”
She bit her lip and headed for the deck steps. The least he could do was tell her flat out, but no. Everything with Noel had to be a game.
A few minutes later he gave her a hand up into the cab of his truck. He’d already stowed his camera bag behind the seat in the extra cab. He had some other stuff in there, too, with a striped blanket tossed over the top. Gear for his job, no doubt. Before Claire had time to ask more about their destination, he turned left at the end of the driveway. In seconds the truck jounced up the logging road.
A Farm Fresh Romance Series 1-3 (A Farm Fresh Romance Box Set) Page 40