American Honey

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Judging from the tools scattered on the floor around her, she was putting the legs on. I’m just not sure how. I twist the table top onto its side and rest it against the wall before reaching my hand out to help her up.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  Curly auburn locks are pushed back to reveal hazel eyes as she reaches her other hand to meet mine. “Uh huh.”

  I lift her slowly. “Were you hurt?”

  She shakes her head, her curls bouncing. “Just startled.”

  It takes a moment before I realize her hand is still in mine. She’s tall for a girl, coming almost up to my nose in her flip-flops. In some sexy heels, I wouldn’t even have to dip my head to kiss those plump lips. It’s hard not to stare at her. Most of the tall girls I grew up around were built like men. Bethany was all woman. Hell, I’d even sign up for a geometry class dedicated to studying her curves.

  She slowly pulls her hand from mine and starts to take a step back, but her foot lands on a screwdriver and she loses her balance. I catch her, pulling her tightly to my chest before she pitches backwards. Her hands grip my shoulders as she looks up at me, wide-eyed.

  Gulping, she glances behind her before moving to step away from me again. This time, I don’t let her go right away.

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  She wets her lips, and stills in my arms. “I’m Bethany.”

  Her chest rises and falls rapidly; movement I can't ignore given her warm body is pressed to mine.

  "I'm such a klutz," she groans.

  "Maybe you should sit. If you want, I can finish putting your table together."

  She nods, and then gasps as I lift her and set her gently on the counter next to the pie.

  "Thought it'd be safer for you up there." I wink.

  Turning quickly so my back is to her, I'm not sure what compelled me to wink at her. I don't wink at people. Focusing on things I understand, like furniture assembly, seems safer.

  I crouch in front of the table, still leaned against the wall, and start to attach the third leg.

  After a few moments of silence, I break it by asking, "How did the table fall on you?"

  She chuckles behind me. "I know I should have flipped the table on to its back and put all the legs on that way, but I thought I was being clever by setting it up on a couple chairs so I wouldn't have to flip it back over when I was done. It didn't work out as well as I thought it would."

  Turning back to her, I ask, "What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?"

  She shrugs, one flip-flop precariously dangling from her foot. "Wiggled out from under it somehow.” Her eyes widen. “I haven’t even thanked you. You must think I am the rudest person ever.”

  Holding up my hand in an attempt to stop her, I shake my head. “It’s fine really.”

  She continues, “And now you’re putting together my table and I’m just sitting here.”

  After leaning the table back up against the wall, I cross the small kitchen and stand in front of her, taking her wringing hands into mine. “Bethany, it’s no big deal. I’m happy to help. It’s what neighbors do.”

  Her shoulders sag. “Not where I’m from.”

  I tilt my head and smile. “Aren’t you glad you moved here then? So, where’re you from?”

  Her eyes drop to our still joined hands, a blush racing over her pale cheeks. “Baltimore, Maryland.”

  “A city girl. What brought you out here?”

  “One day, it hit me that after my parents moved, I had nothing keeping me in Baltimore. I needed a change. I’m my own boss so I can work anywhere. I stumbled across this listing and could picture myself better here than where I was living. My parents think I’m crazy for moving out to what they would call the ‘middle of nowhere’, but I’m looking forward to unplugging. I wanted to live somewhere peaceful.”

  I reach up to tuck a curl behind her ear. “Can’t argue wanting an uncomplicated life. I’ve had to do a little bit a traveling for the farm. I think I’m allergic to city life.”

  She laughs, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she looks up at me, and it’s like someone knocked the wind out of me. Needing some distance, I release her hands and abruptly take a step back.

  “I’ll just finish up,” I mumble, focusing on the table and not my new neighbor.

  The slap of her flip-flops hitting the floor behind me has me turning to look back at her.

  “Would you like a drink? I feel awful just sitting here watching you work.”

  Can’t argue that logic. Not knowing what she has on hand since she just moved in, I ask for a glass of water.

  When she hands me a bottle, I frown. “Tap water is fine for me.”

  Her brows come together. “Is it safe to drink?”

  “Course it is.”

  She doesn’t look convinced, but reaches to take the bottle back from me. I’m almost done putting the final leg on when she brings me a mug of cold tap water.

  I lift the mug, turning it to read it. “Smarty Pants?”

  She blushes. “It was a gift. I haven’t unpacked all my other kitchen stuff yet and it was already out.”

  “I like it.” I hold her eyes as I lift its rim to my lips.

  What I don’t say is I like smart girls too, even the clumsy ones.

  After draining the mug, I hand it back to her. Out of habit, and seeing how she was assembling it in the first place, I give the two legs she already attached a quick once over. With a couple of extra turns of the screwdriver, I am confident they aren’t going anywhere.

  “Ready to flip her?” I ask.

  “Um, sure.” She is still holding the mug, almost cradling it. She turns and sets it on the countertop, and then comes to stand opposite me. Mirroring my movements, we both bend, and then lift the table before setting it upright on its legs.

  “Nice looking table,” I remark, rubbing my hand across the worn blonde wood.

  “Thanks. I’ve had it forever. It was my first adult purchase.”

  “No cigarettes or nudey magazines for you?” I tease.

  She laughs again. This time, any self-preservation instinct that moved me to flee last time vanishes. Just like a bloom turns toward the sun, I need to be closer to her. I’ve forgotten the table between us, until I bump into it, breaking the spell her laughter cast on me.

  “I should go.” I start to back away.

  She arches a brow. “And make me eat this pie all by myself? That doesn’t seem very neighborly.”

  My eyes find Bess’s apple pie and I hesitate.

  Then she goes in for the kill. “I have vanilla ice cream.”

  Dammit. That’s just downright irresistible.

  “You’ve found my weakness,” I smile.

  As she digs through a box for a couple plates, I pull the chairs over and place them around her table.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer.

  Shaking her head, Bethany motions for me to sit. She joins me not long after with a plate for each of us.

  Waiting for her reaction to Bess’s pie, I hold off eating any of mine and just watch her. She loads her fork up with a good amount of pie and pulls it through her ice cream for good measure. She hasn’t noticed my attention is solely on her. Her full lips circle then close around her fork. Riveted, I watch her eyes widen as she pulls the fork from her mouth.

  She chews, covers her mouth as she appears to start to say something; she then shakes her head and moans. Her incredulous eyes train themselves onto mine and she slowly chews. After one final gulp her mouth opens.

  “Oh, my God. Seriously. Oh, my God.”

  I nod, finally able to take my own bite. “I know.”

  Unfazed, she continues, “Seriously, this is the best apple pie I have ever had.”

  My mouth is full so I nod again and raise my brows. This is not the kind of pie that allows for conversation while it’s being eaten. All thought, focus and attention must be solely on the heaven on earth that is this pie. The addition of slow churned
vanilla ice cream makes heaven taste downright sinful. Wait, ice cream?

  I gulp down my current bite. “So you’ve already been to the grocery store?”

  She shakes her head. “No, Bess and I have been talking on the phone for a couple weeks now. She knew I was getting in late last night and offered to stock the fridge for me.”

  Smirking to myself, I can’t help but notice how easy it would have been for Bess to leave this pie for Bethany herself, last night.

  “She even stopped by this morning to check on me.”

  Must have been while I was working.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Bethany continues.

  Shaking my head, I look forward to finding out exactly what Bess is up to.

  After we’ve both finished, I clear the plates and set them in the sink.

  “I should really be taking off now.” I take a step toward the door and she follows me.

  “I’ve totally kept you. I’m so sorry. Of course you have things to do.”

  I shrug. “It’s no problem, really. I’m happy I was able to help and thank you kindly for the piece of pie.”

  After opening the front door, I half step out, letting the screen door lean against my back and reach out to shake her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Bethany. If there is anything you need, you just give us a shout.”

  Her small hand is warm in mine. “Thank you, Beau. It’s nice to know I have great neighbors.”

  When I release her hand, Bethany follows me out on to her front porch, leaning against the railing as I walk down to my truck. I give her a quick wave, which she returns before I back out her drive.

  Chapter Two

  “Can I have a word?” I interrupt the kitchen chatter, my eyes on Bess.

  “Oh, you’re back. What did you think of Bethany?” Bess’s eyes light up as she crosses the room to me.

  She’s a sweet soul, with a habit of meddling.

  “I didn’t realize you had already met her when you sent me to deliver the pie.”

  “I didn’t tell you?” she asks innocently.

  I smirk, draping my arm around her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. “I’m on to you.”

  She grins. “She’s a real pretty girl, isn’t she?”

  I almost argue her use of the word girl, in my opinion Bethany is all woman; instead, I only nod my agreement.

  “Well,” she pushes, “didn’t you think she was pretty?”

  Smoldering hazel eyes, plump kissable lips, and auburn curls flash through my mind. “She’s pretty.”

  Gorgeous, really.

  “It’s so nice to have someone your age living so close to us now. Maybe you could ask her on a date.”

  “Bess,” I interrupt, “she just moved here. Let the poor woman settle in before you try and get her a man.”

  She glares up at me, a sight that would have had my eight-year-old self quaking in my boots, but now just makes me want to hug her. “This is the reason you’re still single. You are too relaxed about women. You need to be more forceful and get what you want.”

  I grin down at her. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

  It takes everything I have not to laugh when she starts muttering, “No complaints.” She pushes away from me and opens the front door. “I don’t see a line waiting to go out with you.”

  Ouch.

  Frowning, I walk out onto the front porch and slump into an old wooden rocker. She follows me cautiously, possibly regretting the bite in her words. I don’t say it, but I’d love to be settled down, married with children of my own. I’ve dated, but shit always came up, differences. I’ll be thirty in less than a year and I’m happy where I am, on this farm. I have no desire to live anywhere else.

  I grew up here. My dad’s health started declining when it would have been time for me to go away to college. I decided to stay home, take courses at the local community college so I could help my dad. I wouldn’t go back and do things differently; it just made meeting girls hard. I was too busy with work and school to socialize.

  Besides, it seems like every girl who’s ever sparked my interest has moved away. A girl I grew up with, Sawyer, came back into my life last year. Never thought I’d be interested in a woman with pink hair, but it didn’t matter anyway. She was in love with someone else. They’re already married and expecting a baby now. Story of my life.

  As cute as Bethany is, there’s no guarantee she’ll even like country life. There’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll be gone within a year. I’m a watcher, a planner and a patient man. If she’s still here this time next year, maybe I’ll ask her out.

  Bess breaks the silence. “I’m sorry I was rough.”

  Shaking my head, I smile up at her. “You didn’t say anything I don’t already know.”

  I skip dinner with the rest of the house in favor of my quiet cabin, still full from pie and ice cream. There’s a loft above the main room with a thick mattress and soft cushions. A porthole window offers a gentle breeze from the orchard. I’ve spent many a day sprawled out up here with a book. It was my hideaway even when I was younger.

  Unless someone takes the time to climb the wooden ladder leading up here, there’s no way to know I’m here. I’m a solitary man. I need time to myself, and after the long winter in the main house, I need it more than ever. Today, instead of reading, I contemplate the surprise that is Bethany.

  It’ll take a while to not picture her on her back, long bare legs sticking out from underneath the table. Pairing that image with the noises she made as she ate that pie, I groan as the two moments combine in my mind and send blood rapidly to my painfully hardening cock. I may be solitary, but that does not mean I don’t enjoy the feel of a woman underneath me.

  At this moment, I’m wishing it was a certain woman with eyes that can’t make up their mind between green or brown. Last thing I should be thinking of is dragging those cut-off jean shorts down her legs and tasting her. What I should be doing is taking a long cold shower, but climbing down that ladder with a stiff dick will be a pain in the ass.

  I unbuckle my belt, then pop open the button on my worn jeans. My cock pushes almost painfully against the zipper as I ease it down. Once I’m free, I grip, picturing Bethany on her knees and those luscious lips wrapped around it. Her eyes blink up at me as she sucks me down deeply. With each blink, they change colors only slightly, one time looking more brown, the next more green.

  In my mind, I fist her hair, pumping my hips as I come down her throat. Sadly, in real life I’m alone, coming all over my hand and shirt and not a towel in sight. I wipe my hand on my shirt and carefully pull it off without making more of a mess. Once I’m zipped, buttoned, and buckled up, I toss my shirt down from the loft and climb down the ladder.

  I’m on the last rung when someone knocks on the door. I’m shirtless but otherwise dressed, so I cross the room quickly to answer it.

  Words fail me as I find Bethany on my doorstep. Her mouth hangs open as she openly ogles not my face but my chest. All I can think, looking at her, is how I just pictured my cock in her mouth. Her standing here with it hanging open sends blood rushing that direction again.

  I clear my throat, crossing my arms over my chest in the hopes she’ll look up at me and close her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”

  Her eyes snap up to mine, looking more brown than green. “Bess called and invited me over for dinner. I just got here and she sent me over to collect you since it’s almost ready.”

  I’ll bet she did, I think to myself. “I was just changing my shirt.”

  Hoping that explains my appearance, I turn and grab my soiled shirt from the floor. “Give me just a minute. Umm, make yourself comfortable.”

  She tiptoes into my cabin and her eyes dance around the room, from the wood carvings on the walls to the old worn throw blankets hanging off the back of the sofa. I flee to my bathroom and fill the sink up with water before tossing my shirt in it. I usually don’t do my own laundry and do not want to explain that
spot to anyone. On my way back to the front room, I grab a Henley from my closet and drag it over my head.

  “It’s a nice surprise, you joining us for dinner,” I say once I’m back in the room with her.

  “It was sweet of Bess to ask me,” she replies.

  Is that saying she wished I had asked her? I frown but wipe it from my face when I see her watching me.

  “You’re always welcome.”

  She’s lost her pink flip-flops and changed into a dress and a pair of worn-in cowboy boots. She was showing more leg in her cutoffs, but knowing I could easily push that dress up and over her hips is one hell of a turn-on. Shit, she could even leave the boots on.

  “I might be a crazy person. You shouldn’t just make a blanket invitation like that.”

  I push open the door, holding it for her. “Just being neighborly.”

  “Oh, so that invitation isn’t specific to me? It’s open to all of your neighbors?”

  “Never said that.” I sweep my arm in front of me. “After you.”

  She eases past me, her arm brushing mine as she does. “Thank you.”

  Once outside, I frown when I notice how cool it’s become. “Will you be warm enough?”

  She nods, but the slide of her hands up and down her arms tells a different story.

  “Wait right here.”

  Hurrying back into the cabin and back into my room, I pull an old hoodie from my closet. It’s small on me but good for layering under bigger coats during the winter. I’m back outside and by her side in no time.

  “Put this on,” I say, passing it to her.

  “You didn’t have to,” she argues even though she’s already putting it on.

  I have to admit, my clothes look good on her.

  “Didn’t want you to catch a cold.”

  The main house is a short walk from my cabin. Her long legs match my stride easily and I use the opportunity to point out different sections of the farm along the way.

  “So you donate whatever you don’t use to the food bank?”

  This has been a bone of contention with other girls I’ve dated. “Yep, we make enough to sustain our needs, barter for things we need in the community, and donate the rest. We’re technically a nonprofit.”