How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart

by Candice Patterson

  She stared at her lap and shook her head. “She died of leukemia when I was seven.”

  The food stuck in his throat. Losing a mother hurt, even if she wasn’t a good one. He swallowed. “I’m sorry. Do you remember her?”

  She fingered the book. “Some things. Other stuff gets fuzzy as I get older. I remember she hugged me a lot and read us books every night before bed, even when she was so sick she could hardly talk.”

  His mother never did that.

  “What about your mom?” she asked. “I heard she passed away, and that’s why you moved here.”

  Huck shoved another bite into his mouth, a big one to give him some time. He nodded and swallowed. “She got killed in a car accident in Vegas.”

  He wasn’t about to tell her that his mom didn’t bother to let him know she was going. Just left a twenty with a see-ya-later note telling him she was getting married—again—and would be back in a few weeks. He’d found it when he’d gotten home from school. Twenty dollars didn’t go far on a growing boy’s appetite.

  A groove formed between Arianne’s scrunched brows. Her pink lips pursed. “I thought it would hurt less as time passed, but it doesn’t.”

  He chewed the last bite. It did hurt. Not because of all the things his mom had done, but because of all the things she hadn’t.

  Their eyes met. Her loss collided into something inside him. Like Newton’s Third Law of Motion, the force she acted on him, caused him to act with equal force on her.

  Oh. Now he got it.

  Unlike the girls he normally dated, who were only nice to a person’s face, Arianne was beautiful inside and out.

  They both sat frozen, heat crackling between them. Forget the food. He wanted to taste her lips. He leaned in, and she met him halfway, eyelids falling heavy. His mouth closed around hers. Her kiss was willing but timid. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she tensed. This was obviously her first kiss. He stopped at one, not wanting to scare her.

  The front door slammed and they jumped apart. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. She slid the Physics book toward herself, cheeks so red they were almost purple, and started babbling about the law of gravity.

  He chuckled, reached for his pop, and waved at her father as he passed, dressed in his police uniform. The sheriff scowled a warning, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and headed to the living room.

  Huck tugged a pack of Reese’s Pieces from his book bag and poured a pile into his hand, then gave her the rest. She picked one up with a shaky hand, a dumbstruck grin on her face.

  The memory was sweeter than the candy on Huck’s tongue. That might’ve been the clumsiest kiss he’d ever gotten, but it was also the purest. Full of truth. Trust. Something he craved more of. The flames licking the wood matched the wildfire raging inside him.

  Arianne tucked hair behind her ear. “I know the sweater is ugly, but it’s comfortable. Wearing it reminds me of her.”

  For the good of his sanity he needed a distraction. “What’cha readin’?”

  She held up the book. A man and woman stood next to a horse, arms around each other, faces hidden behind the man’s cowboy hat.

  Lame.

  “Romance, huh? I figured you’d be reading about Madame Curie and the periodic table.”

  She glared.

  “Let me guess, they meet, they fall in love, and ride happily into the sunset on his horse.”

  “Well, I haven’t finished the book, but…probably.”

  He made a gagging gesture with his finger.

  She threw a marshmallow at him. It hit his ear and bounced into the grass. “Why are you such a cynic anyway?”

  Huck laughed and popped some candy into his mouth. “It’s crap. Things like that don’t really happen. When it comes to marriage, very few people stay faithful to their spouse their whole life, so why make a promise you can’t keep?”

  She spread the book across her stomach and studied him with half disgust, half amusement. “You want to know what I think?”

  “No.”

  “I think you refuse to fall in love.”

  “Yep.”

  Her mouth gaped, as if his answer was more shocking than Bill Clinton’s impeachment. “And if your soul-mate should happen to come along—if there is a girl out there so dim-witted—how do you plan to keep from loving her?”

  Like Sir Isaac Newton, Huck had his own laws of resistance: never date a woman with kids, and never say I do. Those kept everyone safe.

  Until Giada. But her death didn’t have anything to do with his philosophies. It just…happened. He was still working on figuring it out.

  His rotten mood settled in again, and when he didn’t answer her, Arianne shifted her attention back to her book. He tried to refrain from watching how the flames chased shadows on her body, but failed. He needed another taste of those lips so bad he couldn’t think straight. Every time she pinned those blue eyes on him, telling him without words that she saw someone good, worthwhile, he was tempted to burn his rulebook.

  “If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live.”

  —Albert Einstein

  15

  Huck stared at his laptop screen, flicking an ink pen between his fingers. His accountant, Ray, knew some investors who might be interested in his bait and tackle venture. Good. It was time to get this ball rolling.

  The smell of orange-scented furniture polish hung in the air. His office gleamed. It was nice to go into a room that was clean and organized. Two things he stank at. Movement outside his office window stole his attention.

  Arianne stood at the makeshift clothesline she’d put up between two trees. He’d told her it wasn’t necessary, that his dryer worked fine. She argued it would save on his electric bill now that more laundry was being washed. He appreciated her frugality, and she was mighty cute, balancing on her toes to hang his bed sheets on the line.

  She bent and retrieved a pillowcase from the basket. Her hair clip fell to the grass when she righted herself. A mess of blonde went everywhere. She pinned his pillowcase to the line then shook out her hair.

  Heat swelled in his gut. What would it be like to tunnel his fingers into—?

  He wouldn’t go there. Instead, he focused his attention to the blinking curser on the website’s search engine box. At first he’d blamed those thoughts on the narcotics, but now he had to man up. Ibuprofen didn’t cause such side effects. And he’d been having strange symptoms ever since the campfire episode last week.

  Avoiding her all together was impossible, and the more he tried not to think about her, the more she invaded his brain. He couldn’t afford to fall for her. She couldn’t afford it. He’d have to double his effort during physical therapy so she and the kid could move back into their apartment.

  His life had turned into a house of cards and every day the girls would blow on it, threatening his stability. Huck scrubbed his hand over his face. How could he get his life back to the way it was two months ago?

  He couldn’t.

  The realization slammed into him as hard as he’d hit that guardrail. He was responsible for a woman’s death. His life would never be the same.

  The keyboard clicked as he clumsily punched the letters into the search field using the index finger of his left hand. This wouldn’t change anything, but it was a start.

  Arianne burst into the room. “I’ve got to make a run to the shop.”

  He rocked backwards, startled.

  She scooped her hair into her hands and captured it in a ponytail. “Jude’s here. Do you need anything before I go?”

  A time machine. “No.”

  Her blue shirt looked delicious against her skin. “See you when I get back.”

  She smiled and his heart kicked. He faced the computer screen again where Giada’s obituary had loaded. He scribbled her parent’s names on a notepad.

  Huck closed his eyes against the nausea swirling in his gut. He’d thought he had mastered relationships. Hang out,
have a good time, exchange needs—all without getting too close. After all, those women were willing. But it had cost him. For Giada, the price was too much to pay. She deserved so much better.

  So did Arianne.

  ~*~

  Arianne gasped. She gripped Emma’s hand tighter and stepped farther into the mess. Bridal shoes were strewn across the floor in front of the full-length mirror, obstructing the small platform that brides used to determine whether a gown suited or not. Cropped strings and white lint had been tramped into the carpet. Gowns hung sloppily on the hangers. Fingerprints smudged the glass door, each print highlighted by the sunlight filtering through.

  This wasn’t a burglary. This was Missy.

  Arianne’s blood boiled. As much as she’d wanted to believe Missy wouldn’t let her down, she knew it would happen. She’d known it from the second Missy said, “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “Mommy, you’re hurting my hand.” Emma winced.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” Arianne let go. It was her own fault for entrusting her shop to someone else. For nursing an old crush who only weeks ago was kicking her onto the street.

  She’d prayed for more time and God had been merciful in giving it. Albeit, in a tragic and strange way she never saw coming, but an opportunity all the same.

  Her purse fell from her shoulder, and she caught it in the crook of her arm. Where was Missy anyway? She stomped to the office, but her sister wasn’t there. Her nose curled. What was that smell?

  “Mommy, I want to color Mr. Huck a picture.” Emma pulled out the chair and tossed her backpack on the desk. The crayons crashed against the plastic box inside.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be cleaning.”

  Hands squeezed into fists, Arianne dropped to her knees and started on the shoes. Ten minutes later, Missy waltzed through the door, to-go coffee in one hand and a muffin in the other.

  “Where have you been?” Arianne shoved the last shoebox onto the rack.

  Missy held up the muffin. “Getting breakfast.”

  At 11:45? “Are you just now opening the store?”

  “Boutique.” Missy dared to make air quotes around the items in her hands. “Yes. I had a late night, and nobody ever comes in on Thursdays anyway.”

  Arianne threw her hands up and slapped them on her thighs. She’d had a late night too, acting as cook, nurse, and maid. Somehow she’d still managed to drag her butt out of bed at six-thirty this morning.

  “What are you doing here anyway?” Missy bit into her chocolate-chip muffin.

  “It’s my shop. Jude’s with Huck this afternoon, and I thought I’d come by to catch up on things. I had no idea I’d be walking into this.” She waved her hands around the room. “I left a detailed checklist of what needs to be done every day. How hard is it to push a vacuum?”

  Missy swallowed her bite and raised a brow. “Oh, I see. My services don’t meet Queen Arianne’s expectations.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “So it’s off with my head?” Missy plopped the cup on the glass countertop, splashing drops of coffee down the rim. “What do you want from me, Arianne? I help you with the cooking—God knows you need it—I run your shop when you ask me to. I’m nanny to your kid all the time. Tell me, what more do you expect from me?”

  “I expect you to apply yourself and do a good job when you commit to do something. Become a good, responsible citizen and make your way in the world. I support you with a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and a little extra cash for watching Emma. So, what’s the big deal if I ask for your help? It’s not like I’m interrupting your career plans.”

  Missy blinked. “We can’t all be Arianne Thompson.”

  “It’s Winters. And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Missy snatched her cup. “You wouldn’t get it, would you?”

  Tears stung Arianne’s eyes. She hated confrontation. Especially with her sister. “No, I guess I don’t. I’m not perfect. My life’s proof of that. Don’t be like me, Missy, struggling and scrimping and still not making ends meet. I want you to make something of yourself.”

  Arianne went behind the counter and grabbed the window cleaner from the cabinet. She sprayed the liquid on the glass and cleaned with vigor until her upper arm burned. “Darcy Roberts walking in here and asking for my business is the break I’ve been waiting on. I know this shop isn’t your thing, but I’m only asking for your help for a little while longer. We’re family.”

  “Playing the family card, huh?”

  Arianne curled her fingers around the wet paper towel. “I shouldn’t have to play it.”

  Emma skipped into the room, humming “Keep On the Sunny Side.” Those Sunday school songs were putting Arianne in her place on a daily basis.

  Arianne’s nose tingled with a sneeze. “What’s that smell?”

  “Patchouli.” Missy dropped the cup and muffin liner into the trashcan. She ripped off a paper towel, grabbed the cleaner, and sprayed the front door. “I couldn’t find any more candles around here, so I bought one.”

  Missy left a candle burning when no one was here? Arianne bit her tongue from saying the words aloud. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead instead.

  “Don’t worry, Arianne. It’s an electric warmer that melts wax tarts. I wouldn’t leave a candle unattended.”

  That was a relief. Still, light floral tones or lavender scents calmed an overwhelmed and jittery bride. Not Patchouli. If Arianne didn’t keep a closer eye on things, Missy might start burning incense in funky jars and stocking hippy gowns. If this place had any customers left by the end of her and Huck’s agreement, it’d be a miracle.

  ~*~

  Huck stretched beneath the blankets and stared at his dark bedroom ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Body restless. His mind tortured by the obituary he’d read and reread while Arianne had been out. A basket of hot wings and a beer on tap was yelling his name. If he could get out of this bed and make it over to Sharky’s Tavern before dawn, he would.

  The glowing numbers on his alarm clock said midnight. His foot ticked, making a zipping noise beneath the sheet. He couldn’t shake Emma’s disappointment at dinner when she’d invited him, yet again, to join them for church tomorrow and he declined. Worse than that, she’d insisted on tucking him in with a bedtime story.

  How ridiculous. When he was a kid no one wanted the job. Now into adulthood, the role was coveted by a child.

  A faint noise reached his ears. He raised his head and listened.

  It came again.

  Light flickered in the hallway, followed by faint sobs.

  “Arianne?” He pulled himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Was she hurt?

  He pushed his body weight onto his good leg—torture!—and dropped into his wheelchair. Stupid casts. He fiddled with the wheels, guided by the dim light coming from the living room.

  On full alert, he inched down the dark hallway toward the sound. The lights were off, but the TV provided enough light to see Arianne cross-legged on the couch in her pajamas, a tissue held to her nose.

  “What’s wrong?” He scanned the room for trouble.

  She jumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  He wheeled closer and pushed to a standing position. “What is it?”

  She raised to meet him. Tears filled her eyes. Even in the dimness, he could detect her red nose. She opened her mouth to speak but when her lower lip wobbled, she closed it. More tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “Has someone hurt you?” His heart sped. Hands curled into fists.

  She shook her head.

  Relief swept through him. He opened his arms, and she buried her face in his shirt. Within seconds she drenched it.

  “Shhh,” he soothed, weaving his fingertips into her hair. Every bit as soft as he’d imagined.

  Her body trembled. He held on tighter. His leg started to ache, but he’d rather lose it than let go. The fresh, cottony smell that was all Arianne welcomed him. Just bei
ng near her made him dizzy.

  Her shoulders finally stopped heaving.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice shook. “Daniel was in an accident, and Sarah, she…”

  More crying.

  He cupped her face, brushing away tears with his thumbs. “Take a deep breath.” She obeyed. “Now, who are Daniel and Sarah?”

  Arianne pointed to the TV. “Daniel, he’s a farmer. He got run over by a tractor before Sarah had a chance to tell him she loved him.”

  A gold crown took over the television screen. He looked down at her in disbelief. “Daniel and Sarah aren’t real people, are they?”

  His hands moved from side to side with the shake of her head. “No. I’m a sucker for historical romances.”

  Oh brother. Huck dropped his hands. “You mean I almost killed myself getting out of bed to check on you, and you’re crying over some dumb movie?”

  More tears. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad day.”

  He laughed. The woman wasn’t right. She really wasn’t. Arianne started laughing too, and before he knew it, they were both standing there giggling like a couple of hyenas.

  The lunacy subsided, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d come in here prepared to fight a pack of wolves on one leg. Someone ought to just shoot him now. He trailed a finger along her jaw to her chin. Her eyelids slid closed as he brushed his thumb over her lips, tugging the bottom one slightly.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, he lowered his head toward hers.

  She ripped herself from his arms and nearly pushed him over. “No, Huck. I won’t do this with you again.”

  His neck burned with rejection. He stared at the light reflecting off the carpet. Of course she wouldn’t want to. She knew how it’d end. When he looked up again, she was gone.

  Huck sank into his wheelchair, gripping the armrests until his knuckles ached. His weakness for her had clouded his judgment.

  A bride floated down concrete steps on TV, and he punched the power button, encasing the room in black. That’s the kind of ending Arianne deserved. Wanted. His mind went back to the last day with Giada at the diner. She’d wanted the happy ending too. He’d stolen it from her.