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

by Valerie Comer

  “Then get out. Don’t tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. Leave me alone.”

  She bolted for the stairs.

  Chapter 8

  Eight forty-five Tuesday morning, Gabe let himself in the back door of Nature’s Pantry. The two people he wanted least to see in the world would probably be here any minute. He’d acted like a spoiled kid last night. He knew it, and they knew it. But it was time he got a handle on the inner workings of his store so he could sell it. Until then, he’d do anything he needed to do to save face. He was on hold. Once he was free of Galena Landing, he’d figure out his new life.

  The one without Bethany in it. Without their baby, their dreamed-of family. Without any reminders of all their years together.

  Three years away hadn’t been long enough, but he knew now it didn’t matter. Ten years wouldn’t have been any better, and even he knew it was completely unfair to leave the store up to Doreen that long.

  Or Sierra.

  Her voice sounded from the storefront. Bah, he’d hoped she wouldn’t be in. Didn’t she have a farm to run and a naturopathic practice? Wasn’t that enough to keep the woman busy… and out of his business?

  The woman.

  She couldn’t get married soon enough to suit him. Tyrell Burke. The guy had been a jerk in high school, but that was years ago now. What was holding him back from asking her? If not him, why hadn’t she chased some other man down by now? Her friends were both married. She should be, too. She was pretty enough and nice enough — most of the time.

  The door opened, and Sierra burst through. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide, as her hand flew to her chest. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  Gabe took a deep breath. “About last night.”

  She shook her head. “I’m really sorry. I way over-stepped.”

  Yeah, she had. “True.” Sort of true. He forced a smile. “Truce?”

  Her blue eyes jolted up to meet his. “Truce?”

  “Yeah. I need you and Doreen to show me the ropes around here again. I-I don’t know what I was thinking last night. Cutting off my lifelines. I’m sorry I got so angry.”

  “But… it was me. I was all wrong.”

  He kept the smile in place as best he could. “It took two of us.” To tango. He gave his head a fierce shake to get that image out. “Look, I’d really like to get along. I owe you a ton of thanks for stepping in. For taking care of my store. For looking out for Doreen.”

  The wild look in her eyes softened. “It’s okay. If you can forgive me, too.”

  “Of course.” He stepped past her into the once-familiar space, noticing the vitamin section had shrunk and the organic packaged foods had stayed about the same — sparsely populated. On the far wall, racks had been rearranged and bins added for fresh produce. “Can you get me up to speed? Do you and Doreen split the hours, or what?”

  She hesitated. “She did it all at first, and I’d come by and see her. After a few months I started putting in some time on the clock, then we split the hours, but recently…”

  “Recently?”

  She glanced at him. “When the RA flared, I kind of just took over for the most part. She’s kept up the books and comes in when I can’t.”

  “So I’m asking the right person, then.” He tried to keep a light tone even as his heart crushed at Doreen’s pain.

  “Today we get freight, like every second Tuesday, with the dry goods.” She waved toward the shelves.

  So they weren’t half-empty because no one bought food here? “Okay. So what time does the truck come?”

  “Usually late morning.” She straightened health and cooking magazines on a rotating rack. “Doreen will be in around ten to man the front counter while I do the freight. She can’t really lift the boxes.”

  Gabe definitely needed to sell the store. He should have come back a year or two ago to do it. He couldn’t tell Sierra that, though. Not when she’d tried to elicit a promise he’d wait six months. That would put it well into spring before he got it on the market. Much too late for him, even though it was probably a better time to find a buyer.

  “Well, for the next day or two, treat me like a novice employee you’re training. Don’t let me sit around. Tell me what needs doing and keep me busy.”

  She looked at him uncertainly, twisting a long curly lock behind her ear.

  “I mean it.”

  “Okay. Well, here’s the float if you want to open up the till. We always count it at closing so there’s two hundred in it.”

  He gave her a half-salute, took the divided drawer from her, and headed behind the counter. She turned the neon sign on and flipped on the lights before following him.

  Gabe edged over, unsure what she was doing. She crouched and turned on a stereo system sitting on a lower shelf. Nature sounds mixed with classical music wafted through the store.

  She glanced at him as she stood. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Why hadn’t he ever thought of that? He’d run rock in his day, but not all the older people liked that kind of music. This was probably more welcoming, more in tune with the type of business. “I’m the hired help, remember? I don’t get an opinion.”

  His eyes caught on hers, so close to his. She was only a few inches shorter than him, taller than Bethany had been. Long blond hair with curls that flowed past her shoulder blades. Face with the perfect amount of makeup, pink lipstick. He jerked his gaze to the cash tray in his hand. Every woman had lips. It wasn’t like he needed to start staring at them.

  She reached past him to turn the cash register on, her arm brushing his sleeve. Some floral essence tickled his nose as he stepped back to break the contact. He took a deep breath, hopefully silently. No way did he want her to know she affected him at all. She was just a woman he worked with now… for a little while.

  Just a woman he worked with.

  Just a woman.

  He backed up another step.

  She’d said something, but he couldn’t remember what.

  * * *

  So he wanted a truce. That was probably better than being at each other’s throats for six months if, in fact, he stuck to her challenge. Had he promised? She couldn’t remember. Seemed like he’d been vague. Had that been on purpose?

  “Have you added any new categories?” Gabe pushed the cash drawer into the register, brushing her arm in the process.

  Old Spice again. It had never smelled so good on her Great Uncle Orville. But there was more to the scent than that. Orville stank of cigarettes and garlic at the same time. Gabe… not so much. Fresh, clean.

  Oh, great, now she was practically sniffing him, his crisp shirt collar inches from her nose. Wait, he’d asked something. Something about the till. Right.

  “Stuff that’s in on consignment is under this button. Perishables go here.” She reached past him and tapped. This behind-the-counter space had never been intended for two. “And local stuff we buy outright is in this one.”

  “But some is on consignment?”

  She crouched to pull a ledger from a low shelf. “A few things, yeah.” She flipped it open and ran her finger down the entries. “Like these.”

  Gabe’s breath tickled her ear as he peered over her shoulder. Every molecule on her back strained toward the warmth from his body.

  Trapped. Right in a place she’d been dreaming of, but not for the right reasons. Not because Gabe wanted to be close to her, but because he needed to read something she’d carefully placed so he had to work for it.

  “What kind of produce do we carry?”

  Sierra turned slightly. Man, he was right there. He could only be closer if they were actually holding each other up, but it was hard talking to him without looking at him. She backed up half a step, all there was room for. “We, um, carry quite a bit this time of year. We’ve got potatoes and carrots and parsnips in those bins, and the farmers will bring in more when we need them. Onions, leeks, and garlic. Apples.”

  He nodded.

/>   She glanced up at him, the space between them negligible. His eyes were like the bluest Idaho sky, the Gulf of Mexico, and chicory blossoms all rolled into one. He’d never be caught dead with hair as long or mussed up as Noel seemed to prefer. The peak of Gabe’s hair begged to be touched. Was it natural? Was it gelled?

  His gaze met hers in a shock of recognition. His nostrils flared slightly.

  What had she put on this morning? Rhapsody? Did it go with Old Spice?

  The door jingled as it opened, breaking the spell.

  Sierra blinked and tried to pull back, but Gabe was still in her space. She backed right into him. “Excuse me.”

  “Oh.” He moved off a few steps, still staring at her.

  Sierra tore her gaze from him and escaped the confines of the area behind the counter. She pasted a bright smile on her face and turned to view the customer who’d just arrived.

  Jo. With a knowing smirk, she glanced from one to the other and hoisted Madelynn on her hip.

  Great. That was all Sierra needed. Jo, of all people to witness… whatever that had been. She glanced back at Gabe. What had it been, anyway?

  He ran his fingers over the keys on the till, apparently memorizing each category.

  “Hi, Jo! What can I do for you today?” Had she sounded shrill to any ears but her own?

  Jo produced a jar with two honeybees in it. “You left this on the counter, and I had to run some errands, so I brought them. I thought you were giving Doreen another treatment today. How’s she feeling after the one last week, by the way?”

  Sierra froze, even more aware of Gabe than she had been with him breathing down her neck. “She’s doing well. The swelling and itching subsided in a few hours last time.”

  “Does she think it helped?”

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Probably Gabe’s fingers on the counter, but Sierra wasn’t about to turn around and check.

  “A little early to tell, but we’re hopeful.”

  “Oh, good. It sounds so wonky, you know? But it would be awesome if it made a difference for her.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for bringing the bees. I knew my bike bags were missing something.”

  Anytime would be good for Jo to shut up. Not that she ever took a hint.

  Maybe this time. Jo glanced over at Gabe. “Getting back in the saddle, then?”

  “Sort of.” His voice was tight. Tighter than she’d heard it yet today. All that talk of stinging Doreen on purpose was no doubt bringing back the emotions of their first fight after his return. The first of many.

  Jo’s gaze, alive with curiosity, shifted back and forth between them for a moment.

  Sierra folded her arms across her chest and glared Jo down. “When you’ve done that, Gabe, we need to make sure there’s room for a pallet in the receiving bay. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “No problem.” He strode across the worn wooden planks and into the back, the door thudding shut behind him.

  Jo’s eyebrows shot up. “Who’s the boss here?”

  “I am. Until he’s learned the ropes the way Doreen and I have been running things for the last few years.”

  Madelynn struggled to get down, and Jo shifted her to the other hip. “Well, that’s handy for you, I’d say.” Jo grinned. “Anything I should know about your working conditions?”

  Sierra narrowed her gaze. “Like what?”

  Jo thrust her chin toward the back of the store. “Like you and Gabe? You seemed a bit lost in each other’s eyes when I came in.”

  Keeping solid eye contact was key to making Jo believe her, but it was impossible. Not only that, but the flush swooping up her neck and across her cheeks surely gave her away. “Trust me, nothing is going on.”

  “Uh huh. You’ve got that Queen of Denial thing down quite well, I’d say. But denial doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “Give it up, Jo.”

  “I don’t think so. I seem to remember a few years back, and I’m pretty sure I owe you one. Or possibly a lot more than one. Wasn’t it you who—”

  “Shush! It’s not just me.” Sierra glanced toward the back door, but it stayed firmly shut. How well could someone hear through it? She lowered her voice. “Remember Gabe’s in mourning. Don’t be mean to him.”

  Thankfully Jo followed suit. “It’s time he remembered life.”

  Sierra caught her friend’s gaze. “Guess that will be up to him, won’t it?”

  The door to the store’s receiving bay opened and Doreen limped through. “Did you bring the bees?”

  Gabe leaned against the doorway behind her, arms crossed.

  Jo held up the buzzing jar. “Nope, she forgot them, but I had to come to town anyway.”

  Doreen reached for the jar and held it to the light as she watched the two bees zipping around the enclosed space. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this again. After we’ve unloaded freight?”

  Sierra nodded, not daring to look at Gabe.

  Chapter 9

  Gabe slashed the plastic wrap holding the boxes on the pallet. If only Sierra would leave him alone to do this, but no. She’d set the clipboard down to yank the wrap away.

  “I wish there were some other way to keep a pallet together,” she muttered.

  It did seem the guy in shipping had made twice as many rounds of plastic as would have been required, but Gabe wasn’t going to give Sierra the satisfaction of agreeing with her. “They never know how many times they’ll have to move a pallet around in the back of the truck.”

  She shot him a peeved look. “What’d they do before wrap-on-a-roll?”

  Hadn’t been since before he bought Nature’s Pantry. He shrugged and stuffed an armload of dirty plastic into a trashcan.

  Sierra pulled a sheaf of papers from between two boxes at the top, opened them, and clipped them to her board. She scanned the list and grimaced. “They shorted us Cora’s Mac and Cheese for like the third time.”

  “Who’s Cora?”

  “New GMO-free convenience food company.”

  “Oh.” Gabe lifted off the top box. “Sesame oil, case of twelve.” He set it on the cart.

  “Got it.” Sierra made a mark with her pen.

  New companies, new products all over his store. Vegetable bins. A cooler with milk in glass bottles and packages of cheese. His store. Ha. Sure didn’t feel like it.

  But whose fault was that? Nobody’s but his. Unless it was Sierra’s father’s.

  No. He’d promised himself and God he wouldn’t go there. Eyewitness accounts agreed that the little red car — Bethany’s — had swerved to miss a deer. She’d been on her way home from a twelve-hour nursing shift in Wynnton, the last before a few days off. Her coworkers said they hadn’t caught a break all day. Run off their feet, all of them. If it hadn’t been Sierra’s dad’s eighteen-wheeler on the road right then, it would have been someone else she’d hit.

  Gabe was the one to blame. He’d been tending this no-account store and not making enough money to give Bethany the escape she needed. She’d been counting the weeks until maternity leave.

  Bethany’s life insurance had given him enough to pay his own expenses in Romania. He’d run away and, inexplicably, the store started making money. He’d finally dug into the bookkeeping program last night, trying to make sense of them on his own. Nature’s Pantry was firmly in the black, and he couldn’t even take the credit.

  That was probably Sierra’s fault, too. Why did she have to be here, in his face? Oh yeah, he’d asked her to treat him like a new hire. She was doing it, too. Lost in his own thoughts, he’d still been announcing the contents of each box he moved while she checked them off.

  Gabe reached for the clipboard. “Here, I’ll get what’s left. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

  Her blue eyes bounced to meet his. Startled. “But this is only the beginning. Everything needs to be shelved. Of all the days of the month, this is the one that needs extra staff the most.”

  Probably true, but he couldn’t back down now. Somehow
those words had erupted from his mouth. “I’ve got it.”

  “What happened to me getting you up to speed? What happened to me retraining you?”

  “Doreen can do it.”

  Sierra plopped one hand onto a curvy hip. “This is her treatment day.”

  Right, those stupid bees. “Sting her another day.” He leaned closer. “Or never.”

  Her chin rose, and her eyes flashed. “That is absolutely none of your business. She is in enough pain you cannot make that decision for her.” She leaned closer, too. “You abdicated that right. If you ever had it.”

  Her lips were right there. He wouldn’t have to move more than a couple of inches to taste them.

  Her blue eyes widened. Her perfume filled the air, removing all the oxygen he’d been breathing.

  “Sierra, I—” He what?

  She backed up a few steps, gaze locked with his, clutching the clipboard to her chest with both hands. She slipped on a remnant of plastic wrap and, before he could reach her, fell into the metal trashcan. It tipped forward as she crashed to the floor, the rim bashing the back of her head. The clipboard clattered away.

  “Sierra!” Gabe knelt and swept the hair away from her face. “Are you okay?”

  She blinked and rubbed the back of her head as she struggled to sit. The can had given her quite a wallop. She’d probably have a good-sized bump and a headache to match.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She turned away from him and pushed herself to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand.

  “What happened?” came Doreen’s voice from the doorway. “I heard a big crash.”

  “Everything is fine, Doreen.” Sierra righted the trashcan. “I slipped on some plastic wrap and knocked the garbage over. No problem.”

  Concern swept the older woman’s face. “Are you sure? It sounded like more than a metal can.”

  Gabe couldn’t hold back the words. “Sierra fell.”

  The door to the store swung shut behind Doreen. “Oh, no. Are you okay, dear?”

  “I’m fine.” Sierra glowered at Gabe. “No need to worry.” She smiled tremulously at Doreen. “Thanks for the concern, though.”