by Haley Travis
said as he handed one to me.
It was oddly endearing how closely he watched over me. The first sip almost seared my tongue, but the taste was pure bliss. “This is amazing,” I said.
“It’s also amazingly strong,” he chuckled, “So pace yourself unless you want to be running
around here like a hummingbird on crack.”
He was so easy to laugh with. I still couldn’t believe that I was this comfortable with a
strange man. Setting the bottle at my feet, I pulled my tiny notebook and mini pen from my
pocket, scribbling down a few notes. Dean watched me with a casual smirk.
“I have to jot down ideas the second they happen,” I explained, “Or else–”
He held up his hand. “You artsy folks all have your different processes. I understand.”
After another sip of coffee, he pulled out more baskets, setting them at regular intervals
down the long row. The greenhouse was so huge that I could barely focus on the far end.
“Being careful is more important than being fast,” he called out. “But there is a lot of work
this week, so let’s try to keep moving. I’ll be back in a while to check on you.”
Taking another huge swig of coffee, I set it aside and got down to business. Although I
didn’t have a lot of job experience, I worked as a waitress long enough that I ended up
doing prep work in several different kitchens.
There was something very comforting in putting my head down and simply working like heck
at a repetitive task for a good amount of time. It was meditative. After I spent several more
minutes working on my accuracy, I started increasing my speed. Basket after basket filled
beside me, and I just kept going, my head nodding slightly to the music.
“Holy shit,” I heard, snapping my head up to see Dean staring at me. I hadn’t even heard
him approach. “City girl, you are a machine out here,” he laughed.
Looking behind me in a daze, I realized that I’d filled five huge baskets. “Is that good?” I
asked, standing up slowly.
Something kinked in my neck, and I felt everything lock up slightly on my left side. Crap. I
had wanted to impress Dean by seeming strong and capable. I didn’t want him to think of
me as a weak girl who was afraid to get dirty and work hard.
Stretching a little, my muscles began to tighten oddly, as disappointment crashed through
me. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but I’d been putting most of my weight on my left
wrist while I pulled the carrots with my right, to shuffle forward more quickly. The more I
tried to gently stretch it loose, the more everything began to clench.
“Are you all right?” Dean asked. There was no way I could hide my discomfort, and I almost
wanted to cry for hurting myself already. Yet the obvious concern in his expressive eyes
was rather sweet.
CHAPTER FOUR
* Dean *
At first I thought that Joanna was a bit dazed from being completely zoned out, then coming
back to the world. It happened sometimes when people weren’t used to this much fresh air
and sunshine. But then I saw that she was holding her head stiffly while she tried to move
her left shoulder.
“Oh, sweetie.” I came closer, asking, “You’ve pulled something, haven’t you?”
She started to nod, but then a tiny whimper slipped out. Instantly I rushed to her side,
putting her right arm around my shoulders so that I could lead her over to a wide bench at
the side of the greenhouse.
“First we gently pull, then we wiggle. All right?”
“Okay,” she muttered without nodding.
Facing her, I took her wrists in my hands, holding tight. “Dig your heels into the dirt, and pull away from me slowly as if you’re trying to escape,” I said. “Give everything a little shake
and think about all of your muscles being long.”
Joanna did precisely as she was told, until her arms and shoulders were beautifully
stretched while I held onto her. “Wow,” she breathed. “That’s really helping.”
After a moment, I straightened her up and guided her to the bench. “Lie on your back, arms
and legs straight, feet flexed.”
I stood behind her, massaging her shoulders for a moment then very gently taking hold of
her neck and stretching her out long. By applying the tiniest amount of traction, I guided her to try to lower her shoulders, wiggling them slightly until everything fell back into place.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered. “That really scared me.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I could see it in your eyes. Don’t worry, city girl, I won’t let you get hurt on my watch.”
She giggled while trying not to shake her neck. My hands slipped under her shoulder
blades, massaging gently. I told myself that I was trying to relax her muscles, but I was also exploring her silky soft skin.
There was a part of me that needed to care for her. Nurture her. Help her in any way that I
could. I needed to take her pain away and have her feel only pleasure whenever she was
with me.
I could have leaned forward and kissed those perfect pink lips. I wondered if she was
thinking the same thing, as her pretty blue eyes looked up at me upside down.
When she began moving more freely, I reluctantly pulled my hands away. She bent up slowly, and I sat beside her on the bench.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be a bother, especially on my first day.”
“A lot of people hold all of their tension in their neck and shoulders,” I said. “You carry trays and serve food all day, so you’re often holding weight slightly in front of you. By holding your body weight at a very different angle, you’re throwing everything out of whack.”
Joanna nodded, then flashed me a curious glance. “Did I tell you that I worked as a
waitress?”
I shrugged. “Maybe you did at dinner last night. But I also skim people’s files so I know who
I’m dealing with.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not a stalker, I swear,” I grinned. Then I saw that my hand was at the back of her neck,
massaging her. I hadn’t even noticed.
“Strong hands are very handy for a sore neck,” she said quietly.
I chuckled. She didn’t seem to want me to stop touching her, so I softly stroked her skin,
my hand so comfortable under her hair as the braid bobbed behind her.
“A long time ago we had a contest with the farmhands and some guitarists, testing grip
strength by breaking up kindling. The farmers won, but I have to say, one of those
musicians gave us a run for our money.”
Joanna giggled so sweetly. Damn, I loved making her laugh. “You must have so many
artists out here all summer long,” she said. “I hope that I can keep up and earn my keep.”
Reluctantly pulling my hand away, I reached out to grab our coffee bottles, handing her one.
“You’ve already proven that you’re a hard worker,’ I said. “And you can focus. So many
people aren’t able to put their phones down for five solid minutes these days. I bet you
didn’t even bring yours, did you?”
She shook her head a tiny bit as if testing her neck. “No, just the notebook for ideas.”
Something about this darling girl made everything inside me soften. “Maybe I could hear all
about your ideas after supper. For now, do you think you’re okay to keep going?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding freely this time. “I’ll stop and stretch more often.”
“That’s th
e ticket. Don’t rush like a city girl. Slow, steady, and thoughtful. Be a country girl for now.”
Joanna laughed brightly. “That’s a great idea. I’m out here for an adventure, to try new
things. I’ll have to remember to look at everything with new eyes.”
My hand was patting her knee again. Thank goodness she seemed to like the casual affection, because I honestly couldn’t stop it. My hands were reaching for her by
themselves.
CHAPTER FIVE
* Joanna *
By the time Dean drove me back to my room, I was utterly exhausted. All I wanted was to
fall face-first into my bed, but I knew if I didn’t eat lunch, there was no chance I would get any of my own work done in the afternoon.
After a lightning quick shower, I managed to drag myself to the farmhouse. Even the five
steps up the porch felt like a bit much.
“What should I do?” I asked Miriam in the kitchen.
She took one look at me and burst into laughter, wiping her hands on her flowered apron.
“Honeypie, you are dead on your feet. If you think you can set the table, give it a try.
Otherwise, just park yourself and I’ll get some stew in front of you.”
I was not going to be one of those weak, spoiled girls. I set the entire table before plunking myself in a corner seat.
Dusty and Chuck, two of the farmhands, sat across from me. They were friendly enough,
but seemed to be the sort of guys who mostly kept to themselves.
Miriam served us each a huge bowl of thick beef and vegetable stew, with herbed whole
wheat rolls. As I saw the men dunking chunks of bread straight into their bowls, I followed
suit. It was so delicious I actually closed my eyes for a moment to take it all in.
A hand on the back of my shoulder gave a little squeeze as Dean sat down beside me. He
flashed me a grin as a bowl of stew instantly appeared in front of him, along with another
plate of rolls.
“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, smiling so warmly that I wanted to lean into his arms
for comfort.
“The hot shower helped,” I said, trying to downplay the deep muscle tension that was
screaming through my body. “I’m just a bit achy.”
“The water pressure here is great, so make sure you use that right on the back of your
shoulders,” he suggested. “And keep stretching gently all day long.”
“I will, thanks.” For some reason I couldn’t process Dean thinking about me in the shower
without blushing.
Lindsay and Britney finally arrived, sitting at the far end while ignoring everyone else. They had their phones out at the table, which seemed completely out of place here. I’d overheard
that they were working on a screenplay, but they didn’t seem very focused.
I enjoyed Chuck’s stories as he was telling Dean about a previous job. Apparently one of the most important things a farm can do to keep good labor around is to have decent food.
Dusty shook his head. “Nothing like working a twelve-hour day and being handed a bowl of
cheap canned soup,” he said, rolling his eyes. Both men had that deep, weathered look that
clearly said they’d been working in the fields for many years. I honestly had no idea if they
were in their late thirties or early fifties.
“I agree that the food is important,” Dean said, “But also the coffee. Early mornings can be
nasty if we don’t have a great brew to look forward to.”
“Absolutely,” Chuck agreed. “Although I’ve heard some people say that the coffee is too
strong here.” He shot me a sideways glance.
“I loved the coffee,” I said quickly. “I honestly don’t think I would have made it through the morning without it.”
Dean jerked his thumb toward me, giving the other two men a wink. “You should have seen
how this little spitfire tore into those carrots,” he said proudly. “Seven baskets in an hour.”
“The little blue baskets?” Chuck asked.
“No,” Dean chuckled. “The big green ones.”
“Well done, Joanna,” Dusty nodded. “We like it when people show a little hustle.” From the
way his eyes flicked to the girls at the end of the table, I had a distinct impression that they were not exactly hard workers.
As we ate and chatted, I couldn’t help feeling a wave of satisfaction by the way Dean
seemed proud of me. I also noticed that he continued to casually touch me, then pull his
hand away quickly.
I was starting to wonder – would a summer fling really be so terrible? Sneaking a look at
Dean’s gorgeous square jaw, and those lively eyes, the little flutters through my system
were becoming a constant hum.
The men went back to the fields, the girls left without saying a word, and I went back to my
room. As I finally collapsed on my bed, I pondered. I’d never had a boyfriend. I’d never had
a relationship with a man. Would it be a good learning experience for me?
I was out here to try new things and challenge myself. Getting cozy with a gorgeous man
who was incredibly sweet sounded like a good idea. Naturally, I was completely terrified.
But that would likely be temporary. Other people seemed to be open-minded and go with
the flow. What could be the harm in putting myself in Dean’s path to see what happened?
The worst thing he could do would be to ignore me. I sighed to myself as I remembered the
feeling of his hands on my neck, tangling into the back of my hair. That hadn’t just been a
massage for my aching muscles. I adored the way he touched me. Now I just had to make sure that it happened over and over again.
Standing up, I stretched again before forcing myself to get to work. When I checked out the
website of this artist’s retreat, I noticed that many of the rooms had a few completely
empty walls. It added to the lovely minimalist aesthetic. I was lucky enough to have two
blank walls, which was going to help me block out my book.
I had printed out all of the poetry I’d written so far, and brought low tack painter’s tape.
Spreading all of the pages across the queen sized bed and the floor, I was able to see
everything at once. As I had hoped, being in a different space with no distractions enabled
me to focus completely.
Within an hour, I’d sorted all of the pieces thematically, and figured out which sections
needed a few more key pieces to develop the ideas thoroughly. It instantly pointed out what
order each section should be in, and what the most important themes were.
Next, I taped each section’s poems in a row on the walls, with blank sheets where the extra
pieces would be. There was something infinitely satisfying about being able to see
everything together as one huge project.
After three hours of sorting, arranging, pondering, and taping, my entire bedroom had
become my poetry book. I quickly transferred the notes on what pieces I needed to
complete into my large notebook, with a few tiny fragments in my pocket-size notebook.
Even though I knew I should stretch again, I thought maybe I could do that while lying on the
bed. My eyes closed for just a moment, as I realized that the hard work I’d done this
morning really had cleared my head.
A door slammed from farther down the building, making me jump awake. Reaching for my
phone, I realized that it was five-thirty. Dammit.
Scrubbing my hands and face, and brushing my hair at top speed, I raced to the farmhouse
and into the kitchen. Miriam was there, calm and cheerful
as ever, stirring up a huge pot of
delicious smelling sauce. I saw that Dean was behind her, chopping green onions for the
salad.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I was working all afternoon and fell asleep, and forgot to set an
alarm.”
“It happens, honey,” Miriam said, waving her hand at me as if it was no big deal. I noticed
that today she had little tomato clips holding her hair in place. “Dean said that you worked
really hard this morning, so that will tucker a gal out.”
“I’m usually on time, really. I’ve set my phone so that there’s an alarm at ten to five every
day, in case it ever happens again.”
Miriam turned to Dean. “I’m glad this one is staying for more than a week.”
“Me too,” Dean said quietly as Miriam turned away. Something in the way he looked at me made my skin feel warm while my breath quickened.
Miriam turned back to the huge center island, handing me a freshly washed bowl of three
different types of lettuce. “Be a lamb and tear this up for me, then maybe you could make
us another batch of that salad dressing of yours.”
“Sure.” When she was back at the stove, humming to herself, I asked Dean quietly, “Where
are the other girls?”
“They’re leaving tomorrow, so they probably didn’t see the need to do another round in the
kitchen,” he shrugged.
“Wow,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I guess it must be odd having strangers in and out all
the time. It’s hard enough to learn whether you can depend on a person.”
“Don’t you worry, Dean,” Miriam said, shaking a spoon in his direction. “Do you remember
Ryan, that musician with the long black hair?”
Dean nodded slightly. “He was here last year, right?”
“That’s it. He’ll be here tomorrow. He’s only staying for two days, to lock himself in a room
to edit the lyrics of his new album. Something about construction at his apartment making it
impossible to think. But he’ll be doing at least two farm shifts, so tell Gus to be ready to put him to work.”
Although I was busily shredding lettuce, I caught Dean’s slight frown as he muttered, “Will
do.” I couldn’t help wondering why he seemed unhappy to have the extra help.
Dinner was incredible. All three of the other farmhands were there, and Dusty, Chuck, and