The Burbs and the Bees

by Cathryn Fox

  “His name was Bradley.”

  “He hurt you,” he says, stating a fact.

  I shift positions until I’m on my stomach, my hands on his chest, tucked under my chin. “I’m over it.”

  “You sure?”

  I shrug. I’m over Bradley, but his rejection was just another reminder that I have no purpose in life. “He’s in the past.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  I roll onto my back, and Jay shifts to face me, going up on one elbow.

  “I guess I thought we’d get married, have the kids, the dog, the SUV.”

  “That obviously didn’t happen.”

  “I can’t get anything by you,” I say jokingly, but his eyes narrow. He’s not in a joking mood. “He put a ring on one of my best friends’ finger. I didn’t really see it coming.” I snap my fingers. “He broke it off with me, and within a week, they were engaged. I never want to be blindsided like that again. I don’t think I could handle it.”

  “What a prick.”

  I give a hard laugh. “That’s one of the nicer things I called him.”

  My stomach growls, and Jay sits up, pushing our blankets to the foot of the bed. He tugs on a pair of sweatpants and hands me a pair, along with one of his T-shirts. I dress and follow him down the stairs to his kitchen.

  “It was his loss, Alyson.”

  My heart wobbles. “No one takes me seriously, Jay. I mess up everything I touch. Back home, everyone knows I’m a quitter, and here, everyone thinks I’m ridiculous.”

  “You’re not ridiculous. You’re just a little lost, that’s all.”

  I nod, and he grabs two bowls and fills them with cereal. He pours a generous amount of milk in and hands me a spoon. Ravenous, I dig in.

  “You really like cereal, eh?” I say, using his Canadian vernacular, and it produces a small smile.

  “Have you ever stopped to consider you can’t find your passion because you’re afraid of trying and messing up?”

  I stare at him as his words bounce around in my brain. “What do you mean?”

  “Life is complicated and messy. You have to put yourself out there and make mistakes. You have to break the rules sometimes, take some risks. But you don’t do that because you’re afraid to fail.”

  I blink several times, then say, “I took a risk coming here.”

  “You did. A big one. How does that feel?”

  As his eyes narrow in on me, I say, “Scary.” I stare at the clock, watch the second hand tick. “Jay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What if I fail?”

  “What if you do? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Oh, I could lose my trust fund.

  “There will be consequences,” I say.

  He eyes me for a moment. “But you’re here, regardless of those consequences, aren’t you? We all fail at things, Alyson.”

  “I know. Some more than others,” I say.

  “You just need to align yourself with the right kind of people who will catch you if you fall and pick you back up so you can try again.”

  Goddammit, I can’t even think about that, can’t even let my brain register that he’s the guy I want standing there when I’ve fallen—and I will fall, of that I’m sure. I take a bite of cereal, even though my hunger is long gone, and let my spoon drop.

  “What about you, Jay?”

  “What about me?”

  “What did Juanita do?”

  He takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and drops his spoon. It clatters against the side of his bowl. “Contrary to what Capone says, she’s not a peach.”

  “I figured as much.” I nod toward the loft. “The ring…”

  “Yeah, it was hers. We were engaged. We met in college, and I guess I thought she was the one. I thought wrong.”

  “She hurt you.”

  “She loved the idea of the farm, the apiary, the country living, until she actually had to do it. She moved in here after we were engaged for a few months. Mom and the guys grew fond of her, and when she left here, she didn’t just leave me; she left us all. I hated seeing the hurt on my family’s face. I don’t ever want to do that to them again. City girls like her…” He cringes as his words trail off. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” I say, knowing exactly what he means. I guess I’ve also said a few things that have hit sore spots for him. Everyone is judged by who they are and who they aren’t. “So now you’re careful who you bring into your life.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can appreciate that. I’m careful, too, and I don’t want to find myself with someone until I find myself,” I say, wishing I didn’t feel all the things for this man and knowing I do and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. We’re both a little broken, a little lost, but at least he’s found his passion in what he does. “You shouldn’t let one bad relationship turn you off all relationships.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say it has. What we’re doing here is a sex-only relationship,” he says.

  “Okay, I get it; you’re not off all relationships, just serious ones.”

  He goes quiet, pensive, then finally says, “I have a lot to do, a lot to consider, Alyson.”

  “I know, me, too. I just think you’d be a great husband and a great father. I see how you are with your brothers.”

  “Says the girl not looking for anything serious, either.”

  I grin. “Touché.”

  “Juanita didn’t even last a month here. She didn’t like the work, the bugs, or the bees.”

  “I get it, Jay. You think all city girls are the same.”

  “I assume a leopard can changes its spots, you know?”

  “That’s a bit of a blanket statement.”

  He rolls one shoulder. “She begged me to move to the city with her.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  His gaze lifts, and he looks at me like I have a pitchfork coming out of my forehead. “I have to be here,” he says.

  “Why?” I pick up my spoon, toy with my cereal.

  His brow furrows. “I promised my dad I’d take care of things.”

  I reach across the table and take his hand. “You said a few days ago that you owed him that. What did you mean?” He goes quiet for a long time; the only audible sound in the room is the ticking of the clock.

  “He was a good man,” he finally says and touches the scar on his face. “But I wasn’t a good son.” I go quiet, wait for him to elaborate. “Farming is hard.” He glances at me, and I nod, knowing and respecting the work done here firsthand now. “I was the oldest and was supposed to be here to help. Instead, I got into a lot of shit, a lot of fights, and spent a few nights in lockup.”

  “The scar?”

  “Yeah, all from that.”

  My heart goes out to him. “You were just a kid. Kids mess up. Heck, look at me. I’m twenty-seven, and I’m still messing up.”

  “No, Alyson, I’m the one who messed up. Royally,” he says so quietly, his voice so thick with regret. Jeez, is he still talking about his teenage years?

  “But you’re doing a great job now.”

  “If I was here sooner, Dad might not have died. He worked himself to death. Had a heart attack. If I hadn’t—”

  “Jay, your father didn’t die because of you. You can’t own that.” He looks so sad, so gut-wrenchingly lost, my heart pinches tight.

  His frown deepens, regret radiating off him in waves. “Maybe if I—”

  “No, Jay. No maybes. You were a kid doing what kids do. Look at Tyler. He still goes out, parties, and has fun. You allow him to do those things. You give your brothers freedom, and everyone needs that to grow up. You had to have your wild years for growth, and you just told me I needed to make mistakes and take chances. That’s all you were doing,” I say.


  He kicks his legs out, and his feet touch mine under the table. “What did you actually do before you came here?”

  I look down, heat on my face. “My parents pay my rent, and I worked odd jobs for incidentals. I volunteered with my mother, but other than that, not a whole lot of anything, even though I tried everything. I get bored with things easily, and maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t give everything my all because I am afraid of failure. I come from a lifestyle that allows me to do that.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I realize how pampered I sound.

  “Meaning?”

  “There were no real consequences to quitting. I won’t starve, and I’ll have a roof over my head. I’m a trust-fund baby.” I put my hand on my face and cringe. “That must sound so horrible to a guy like you.”

  “A guy like me?”

  “You know, a farmer, a guy who works outside with his hands, gets them dirty.”

  “Is ‘redneck’ the term you’re looking for?”

  “No, Jay. That’s not what I mean.” Before I add to that and tell him how much respect I have for what he does, Capone squawks, “Mr. Honey Buns,” and the mood around the table shifts. Jay relaxes, his shoulders falling.

  I steal a glance at Capone, who’s settling himself again. “So you got left with the ring and the bird, huh?”

  “What was that you said about Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “Capone, cover your ears,” I yell and Jay laughs. I stifle a yawn, my body tired from the long day and a night of dancing. “Bed?”

  “Bed,” he says and pushes up from his chair.

  “Your dad would be really proud of the man you are, Jay.” He toys with the watch on his wrist, the one he always wears. “Did he give you that?”

  “Yeah, it was his. He gave it to me before he died. It means a lot to me.”

  “It’s nice that you have something of his with you all the time. Like I said, he’d be so proud of you.”

  He tugs me to my feet. “For what it’s worth, your people would be proud of you, too, Alyson. You know, there’s always going to be people who don’t see your worth; just make sure you’re not one of those people.”

  I gawk at him.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I kind of recently said those exact words to myself.”

  “I guess on some level we believe in the same things.”

  My heart flutters. “I’d be so lucky to have your morals, Jay.”

  His eyes darken, and he frowns. “No, I’m sure it’s the other way around. Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

  I smile, loving the confidence this man has in me and the way he believes in me and helps me believe in myself. I slide my arm around him, and we head upstairs. Once between the sheets, I snuggle in close, loving the warmth of his body next to mine. I’m going to miss this when I move back into my farmhouse. Even more so when I leave here. My heart tumbles.

  Maybe I don’t want to leave here. Maybe I could keep farming and at night, write my book about all the crazy experiences I’ve been having since putting a foot down at the Peggy’s Cove lighthouse. I close my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. Wait, what is going on with me? Do I have a plan, a purpose?

  Will Jay catch me if I fall?

  Jay tugs me in tighter, and the next thing I know, I’m opening my eyes before dawn, eager to get to work before Cluck has a chance to startle me awake. I have never been more motivated to work in my life. Is this what happens to a person when they know what they want to do? When they have direction?

  With a new kind of energy zinging through my veins, I turn to gaze at the sleeping man beside me, and my heart does a flip. I am trying so goddamn hard not to fall for him, yet failing a little bit more with each passing day.

  I resist the urge to kiss him and slide from the bed. He looks so peaceful and adorable sleeping there, I don’t want to wake him. I hurry into my work clothes, sneak downstairs, and get started on my chores.

  First up is milking Sidney and getting her into her pasture. Like a pro, I prepare the buckets, drain her milk, and lead her out of the barn. The sun is a bit higher on the horizon, casting streaks of orange across the country sky, and I take a deep breath, letting the image burn into my memory. I’ll never get used to the beauty of this place. Once I get Sidney into her pasture, I go completely still. What the hell happened to my fence? I run my hands along the split wood. Did someone kick it down?

  On purpose?

  I leave Sidney, run back to Jack’s shed, and find some old lumber, nails, and a hammer. I struggle a bit to carry it all back to the pasture, and when I get there, I’m happy to find Sidney munching on the hay and not wandering off.

  I pound nails into the board, and the sound echoes while the vibrations reverberate through me. I grab another board and position it, and as I do, worry gnaws at me. When did this happen? Jay was the last one out here; did he notice this? As if my thoughts had summoned him, I glance up when I hear footsteps and find him coming my way.

  Hands jammed into his pockets, he says, “Look at you, fixing the fence like a boss.”

  I laugh at his playfulness and ignore the strange fullness in my chest just from the mere sight of him. I am not going to let him burrow under my skin, no matter how sweet, attentive, and adorable he is. If I did that, if I fell for him, no way could I live next door knowing there could never be more between us. He made his position perfectly clear, so it’s best I keep control over the things blossoming inside me. Although, I have to admit, it certainly felt like something changed between us last night, not only because we both opened up. Something happened to us in bed. His touch felt more emotional than physical. Then again, it could simply be wishful thinking on my part.

  “Did the pounding wake you?” I ask.

  “The pounding woke the dead, Alyson,” he says, glancing around like he’s checking for ghosts.

  “Are you looking for Jack?” I ask, and he chuckles.

  “No, and I was going to take care of the fence for you this morning.”

  “You knew about it?”

  He runs his fingers through his hair and looks around. “Yeah. I saw it last night after collecting Sidney.”

  I put the last nail in, stand back, and put my hands on my hips as I examine my work. “I think it was done on purpose.”

  “Yeah, seems that way.” He frowns. “I’m not sure I want you moving back to your place alone. Not until we get to the bottom of things here. There are too many things happening to pass off as coincidences.”

  I brush my hands on my coveralls and nod. “Agreed. At least the animals are okay, though. I’d have gone mama bear if someone hurt them.”

  A small smile touches his mouth. “Come on, coffee’s brewing.”

  We head back to his place, and his body is close to mine, making me very aware of him, aware of the heat arcing between us, the sensations in my tummy, and the doubling of my heartbeat.

  I glance up at his unshaved face as he scrubs his chin like he has a million things on his mind. He probably does. The men in my world do not have the kind of responsibilities he does. Beck was right. He needs to have more fun. I’ll do a Google search later to see what kind of entertainment I can find in this neck of the woods.

  We walk by the cherry tree, and the fruits are ripe and glistening in the morning sun. “Ohmigod, look at how beautiful these are now.” I pick a handful and munch on them.

  I toss one to him, and he puts it in his mouth. “Delicious,” he says.

  “Right?”

  We cut through the path, and as we approach his place, I inhale the smell of coffee. Cluck comes running after us, and I nearly swallow the pit in my mouth.

  “Good lord, Cluck. Can we be friends already?”

  I hurry into the house, and upstairs in the loft, my cell phone is ringing.

  “That’s actually what woke me. Someone is trying to
get a hold of you, and they’re not taking no for an answer.”

  I frown, assuming it’s my father calling to see when I’m coming home. “I’ll get it later.”

  Jay’s brow bunches, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he hands me a hot cup of coffee, and I treasure it. “How’s your day looking?” I ask, like we’re an old married couple.

  He takes a sip of his coffee and pours it into a thermos mug. “I’m off to work on the barn. I’d better get a move on it. I told my brothers to be there first light.”

  “And I need to pick some potatoes before the market opens.” I shake my head. “This working seven days a week is bullshit. I mean, even God took Sundays off.”

  He laughs. “You don’t have to pick the potatoes.”

  “Yeah, I do. I owe you guys that. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “You know where the corn ends?” I nod, and he says, “Just beyond that, but I’m going to join you to show you how it’s done.”

  I drink up, knowing he’s ready to get going with his day, then set my cup down. Outside I follow him to a barn, where he grabs a bucket and a big garden fork. As the sun rises higher, it heats the land, and warms my skin. I wipe my brow as we walk past his cornstalks.

  “You opening the U-Pick soon?”

  “Tomorrow, actually,” he says.

  “You excited?”

  He grins. “I am, actually. I hope we get a big crowd. I’m looking forward to teaching others about sustainability.”

  “I’m sure people will come in droves,” I reassure him.

  We stop at the potato garden. “Okay, you need to dig eight to twelve inches from the plant, that way you won’t stab the potatoes.” He shows me, hands me the rake, and I move right along.

  “Easy peasy,” I say and he nods.

  “You got this?”

  “I got this.” I lift my chin an inch, displaying confidence.

  Before I realize what’s going on, he presses his mouth to mine and gives me a kiss so deep, so steeped in need, it nearly stops my heart. He pulls back, leaving me breathless, and without a word, he walks away.