My phone rings and I yank it out of my pocket and see it's Silas calling. I answer it. "Hey, that was fast."
"I had to hurry. I'm starving. And I want to see you."
He's flirting again. Did he not hear me last night? I told him to move on. This is not moving on. But I'll play along. In fact, I'm going to flirt right back.
"I can't wait to see you too."
"Then get your ass down here."
A flutter of excitement skitters through me. His flirting should not get to me like this, but it does. I hang up and stash my phone in my pocket on my way out of my room.
I pass my parents in the living room. "Bye, Dad. Bye, Mom."
"Willow, wait." My dad meets me at the door and hands me a twenty. "Have fun tonight." He kisses my head.
"I will. Thanks."
When I get to Silas' house, his mom greets me at the door. "Hi, honey. Silas is upstairs in his room."
"I forgot your sweater," I tell her. "I'll drop it off later."
"Keep it. It looks cuter on you than me. And your friends at college will love it."
I hurry past her and race up the stairs. The image of me wearing that sweater at school has me laughing and I didn't want Diane to see. I'm sure she worked hard to make it.
"Are you decent?" I yell outside Silas' door.
"Depends on how you define that." He yells back.
I open the door and see him standing there in jeans, but shirtless, just like he was on the farm. His hair is wet but now it's because he just showered. He smells good. Clean and fresh with a hint of cologne.
"You gonna put on a shirt?" I ask.
"I'm still hot from being outside so I thought I'd just leave it off." He grins. "Is that a problem?"
He's evil. No girl can resist a hot shirtless man fresh from the shower. Except me. I'm stronger than most. I can resist him.
"Not a problem at all, although it seems unsanitary to eat without a shirt, hence the no-shirt, no-service rule at restaurants."
"We're not at a restaurant. And it's not unsanitary. I just showered. I'm even cleaner than you."
I huff. "That's not true! I showered this morning. I'm very clean."
"Let me see." He steps up to me, his hands grasping my waist as he bends his head down to my neck. His lips graze my skin as he inhales, making me shiver.
"What are you doing?"
He exhales his warm breath over my neck. "You smell good."
"Thanks. Now will you move, please?"
I was tempted to turn my head and kiss him but I didn't. Excellent self control. Score one for Willow.
He slowly backs away.
"I really think you should put a shirt on." It's a lie. I don't want him covering up those incredible abs, but my self-control is winning out, keeping me from doing something I shouldn't.
He gives me a smug smile, then walks over to his dresser and pulls out a white t-shirt. Damn. I'm a sucker for jeans and a white t-shirt, which he knows. He takes his time pulling the shirt over his head, the movement causing his ab muscles to flex. Holy crap, that's hot.
"Is this better?" He stands there, his arms at his sides, looking completely irresistible.
"Sure. Whatever." I turn away from him and get my phone out. "What kind of pizza do you want?"
"Sausage and pepperoni. I'm craving meat."
"No green peppers? Mushrooms?"
"Add whatever you want. Just not anchovies."
"Gross. I hate anchovies." I call the pizza place, but get a message that the number is no longer in service. "Silas, is Pizza Village closed?"
"Yeah. It closed last month." I feel him come up behind me, his arms going around me, brushing against my chest as he takes my phone and types in a number. "This place is good."
I order the pizza, then turn around and face him. "You could've just given me the number."
He smiles. "I could've."
He's taking this flirting up a notch. Time to give it right back.
I slip my hands under his shirt, along his abs, and give him a flirtatious smile. "So, what should we do while we wait?"
He chuckles. "I know what you're doing."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's not going to work." He grasps me around the waist. "It'll just make me do this all the more."
"Do what?"
He leans down and kisses me. A bold, assertive kiss. A kiss that buckles my knees and leaves me breathless. Then he pulls away, waits a moment, then says, "Would you like me to take the shirt off? It seems to be in your way."
I look down and see my hands are now halfway up his shirt, my fingers splayed out over his chest. I quickly yank them away.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
"No problem." That smug grin appears again. "Maybe we should eat out back. Otherwise it'll smell like pizza in here for a week. Doesn't make for the greatest atmosphere."
"Why do you care about the atmosphere? Are you having people over?"
"Just one." He kisses my cheek, then takes my hand, tugging me out of his room and down the hall.
"You're being very strange."
"Good. I'd hate to be normal. Normal is boring."
I like this new Silas even better than old one, and that's saying a lot because I really liked the old one. But the new one is way more assertive, in a good way. A sexy way.
He grabs a couple sodas from the fridge. His mom lets him have soda. My mom refuses to buy it.
"Right this way." He holds the door open for me and we go in the back yard. It's a small yard but has trees and bushes around the perimeter, giving it privacy.
"You have a fire pit? When did you get that?"
"They got it last year sometime. Martin surprised my mom with it. She always wanted one."
"Can we light it later tonight?" As soon as I say it, I realize I just told him I'd be sticking around after dinner. I assumed he knew that, but maybe not. "Unless you have somewhere you need to be."
"We'll light it after dinner." He hands me my soda and I sit down on one of the patio chairs. He sits beside me and laces his hand with mine, looking out at the yard. "I need to move. I shouldn't still be living with my parents."
"Where would you go?"
"That's the thing. I checked rent prices and they're ridiculous. Even if I got a roommate, it'd still be too much."
"It's not that bad living here."
"I know. I'd just like more privacy."
Why does he need privacy? Is he planning to bring girls here? Or is he referring to us needing privacy?
When we were dating, his mom almost walked in on us doing it. We didn't hear her come home, but luckily we heard her walking up the stairs and stopped what we were doing before she got to his room. At least his parents' bedroom is on the main floor so he has some privacy being the only one upstairs.
Our pizza arrives, and after we eat, he lights the fire pit and we sit around it and talk until almost midnight. Then he walks me home.
"I had fun tonight," I say as I stand outside the door.
"Can you come over tomorrow? I'll probably be done with work around seven."
"Silas, I can't come over every night. We can't do this. We're not dating."
"I was just going to ask if you could help me with accounting. I haven't had much time to study and I have a quiz next week."
"Oh. Yeah. Of course. Just call me and I'll be over."
"Thanks." He give me a hug. "Goodnight."
He turns and walks away. He's so confusing. He started out the night being all flirty and now he's back to acting like we're just friends.
The next morning I wake up to noise in the kitchen. It sounds like someone dropped a pan. It's six-thirty so my mom's probably making breakfast. She and my dad usually head to the farm around seven. My mom helps out in the mornings, then comes back here in the afternoons to make calls and do paperwork. She runs the business side of things; tracking sales, paying bills, managing the retail accounts, and coordinating when and where stuff needs to be d
elivered. She doesn't have a business degree so she always says that what she's doing isn't business, but it is and I tell her that all that time. In fact, both my parents refuse to think of themselves as business people. They just say they're farmers trying to make a difference. But in reality they're thriving entrepreneurs, which is what made me want to go into business.
I stumble out of bed and into the kitchen. My mom is there, filling her coffee mug.
"Where's Dad?"
"I already dropped him off." She's talking fast and her smile seems forced. I open my sleepy eyes more and notice she's wearing a skirt. A normal skirt, not one of her long, flowing hippie skirts. And she has a blouse on. A beige button-up blouse like you'd wear to an office. This is odd. I've never seen her dressed like this. I didn't even know she owned those types of clothes.
"Why are you dressed like that?" I ask.
"I'm going to work." She wipes the counter with a dish towel. "I have to leave in a few minutes."
"Work? You're wearing that to the farm?"
"I'm not going to the farm. I'm going to the office." She sets the dish cloth down by the sink. "I didn't get a chance to tell you that I got a job. I'm a receptionist at a real estate company."
"What? Why would you work at a real estate company?"
"You're away at college now so I felt it was time to get a job."
"You already have a job. Managing the farm with Dad."
"I'll still be doing that, but I'm doing this as well." She comes over and gives me a hug. "Have a good day. Do you have any plans?"
"Mom. Back up. What's going on here? Why did you get a job?"
"I just told you why. Now that you're all grown up, it's time for me to go back to work."
"You've worked my whole childhood."
"That wasn't work. That was helping your father out."
"You both own the farm. And you weren't just helping out. You were managing the whole business. You still do."
"Honey, I really need to go. We'll talk later." She grabs her purse and heads to the door.
"What time will you be home?"
"Around six. Don't worry about dinner. I have leftover tofu from last night."
She leaves before I can ask any more. This doesn't make sense. My mom has never had an office job. I don't think she's had any job other than managing the farm with my dad. And now she decides to be a receptionist at a real estate company? I can't imagine her sitting at a desk all day, typing and answering phones. That's not her at all. And those clothes? She didn't even look like my mom. She normally dresses like a hippie, with long flowing skirts, peasant blouses, and a scarf tied around her head. I used to be so embarrassed to be seen with her dressed like that, but it's her, so I eventually got over my embarrassment. She looked nice today, but that's not my mom. It doesn't fit her bright and colorful personality.
What's going on with her? Did she really just want a new job or is it something else? It can't be about money. The farm is doing great. My parents deliver our products to some of the best restaurants in town and they always sell a lot at the farmers' markets.
I don't know what's going on but I don't like it. Something doesn't feel right.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Silas
I'm exhausted. I was up all night thinking about Willow. Thinking about what will happen if Carl is forced to use Willow's college fund to save the business. Willow would have to drop out of school, live with her parents, and get a job until she could save up enough money to go back to college. If that ends up happening, it'll change her life, her plan for her future.
"We're breaking for lunch," Ricco says. He's one of the workers, a guy around 30 with a wife and two kids. He used to do construction but hasn't been able to find work the past few months so ended up here.
"I think I'll just work through it, but thanks."
He nods and walks off. The other guys are already seated at the picnic tables having lunch.
It's a lot cooler today and cloudy. I've been digging up carrots all morning and now I'm planting onions. I keep telling Carl he needs to change what he grows. People aren't willing to pay much for carrots and onions, even organic ones. And they're even cheaper at the grocery store so he's had to lower his prices to compete. I've suggested he try growing more unusual varieties you can't get in the store so he could charge more, but he's stubborn like his daughter so it's hard to get him to make changes. I also keep telling him to plant flowers, which people pay a lot of money for, but he says you can't eat flowers and his farm is meant to feed people.
"Hey, Silas." I hear Willow's voice and feel my lips rise. Just the sound of her voice makes me smile.
I stand up and wipe my dirty hands on my jeans. "Hey. What are you doing here?"
"I brought sandwiches. I gave one to my dad and I brought a couple for you. I thought you might want more than one after working out here all morning."
"You made me sandwiches?" I smile wider.
"If you don't want them, it's okay. One of the other guys might want them."
"They're not getting my lunch. Where are these sandwiches?"
"In the car." She glances back at the red Honda Civic. "I had to borrow your mom's car. My mom took the Prius to her new job."
So Willow knows about the job, but her mom must not have told her why she took it.
"Silas. Did you hear me? My mom got a job! An office job. At a real estate company!" She grabs my hand. "Come on. Let's go have lunch. I've been dying to talk to you about this."
"Why me?"
She rolls her eyes. "Because you're my friend, that's why. I tell you everything."
"You haven't talked to me in two years," I say as we walk through the field.
"Yeah, well, that was a mistake. I should've talked to you. I told you I was sorry."
We reach the picnic tables where all the workers are sitting.
Willow leans over to me and quietly says, "Could we have lunch in your truck?"
"Sure. I'll meet you over there. I need to wash up." I go over to the hose and scrub my hands with the liquid soap Carl keeps out here. When I get to my truck, I see Willow has lowered the tailgate and is sitting at the edge of the truck bed, her feet dangling down. She's wearing the red cowboy boots she keeps out here on the farm. She changes into them when she walks through the fields. I love those boots. They give her a sexy cowgirl look. Her long brown hair is in a loose braid with wispy strands blowing around her face. And she's wearing denim shorts and a sleeveless blue plaid, button-up shirt.
That's a smoking hot outfit. Sexy cowgirl all the way. I just wish she was my cowgirl.
"Here." She hands me a sandwich. "It's almond butter and mashed strawberries. It's all I could find."
"Sounds good." I lean over and kiss her cheek. "Thanks. You look really hot, by the way."
She looks down, her legs swinging back and forth. "It's just shorts and a shirt."
"Believe me." I eye her up and down. "It's more than that. You look like a sexy cowgirl. Make sure to wear that to my house tonight."
She smiles. "I'm going there to help you study so I was planning to wear my sexy school girl outfit."
She's torturing me with this on-and-off flirting. I'm doing the same thing, but she can more easily hide the effects it has on her. I can't. If she got a good look at my jeans right now she'd know what her little comment did to me.
"Sexy school girl," I say. "Cowgirl. Either one works for me."
"I got you some water." Just like that, the flirting ends and she's back to being my friend, nothing more. It's frustrating. She reaches behind us and grabs two metal water bottles. Her parents won't buy water in plastic bottles. Mine won't either. "This is all we had for chips." She hands me a bag of sesame kale chips.
"I think I'll pass, but thanks."
She tosses them behind us. "So anyway, what do you think is up with my mom? Why would she get an office job?"
I want to tell her the truth. All of it. But I can't. I promised her parents I wouldn't. They want to be
the ones to tell her and they want to wait until the time is right. Hopefully that's soon because lying to her is next to impossible. I've always been honest with her.
"Maybe she wanted to try something new. A lot of parents do that when their kid goes to college. They reevaluate their lives and decide to do something different."
"I guess, but an office job is so unlike her." She holds onto my arm just as I was about to lift my sandwich to my mouth. "You should've seen what she was wearing. A skirt and a blouse! And not her typical hippie skirt and blouse, but a black pencil skirt and one of those polyester-blend blouses in a beige color. Beige! My mother has never worn beige. I about fell over when I saw her. I've never seen her dress that way."
"She can't show up to an office in her other clothes. She was just following the dress code."
"You don't seem to be getting the bigger picture here. My mom has an office job!" She lets go of my arm. "This makes no sense." She continues to talk while I eat my sandwich. "I mean, it would make sense if they needed the money, but they don't. The farm makes good money. We have all these new customers." She motions to the handful of workers sitting at the picnic tables. "And my dad has obviously found ways to be more efficient, cutting his labor costs. We used to have twice that many guys."
He needs twice that many guys. He just can't afford them.
"So I don't know what the deal is." She leans back on her hands. "Maybe you're right. Maybe my mom's just going through some kind of mid-life crisis. Feeling the need to try something new. Maybe that's why she redecorated the living room. I'm still not used to walking in the house and not being hit with a rainbow of color. She even repainted their bedroom. The same pale green color as the living room. And they have a dresser instead of just tossing their clothes in baskets all over the floor." She pauses. "You know what's weird?"
"What?" I gulp down some water.
"I always hated the way they decorated. The bright colors that didn't go together. The furniture that didn't match. The way everything was so cluttered and disorganized. But now?" She straightens her legs, staring down at her boots.
Still Love You Page 7