My choice plays ping pong between both options, so I finally decide to just sit down next to Cade because I’d rather see Lawson’s expressions. At least this way I can try and decipher them. I walk over to the seat, but Cade stands up and pulls out the chair for me before I can get to it.
I smile as I sit down. “Thank you, CC. You’re such a gentleman. The South is rubbing off on you,” I tease.
“Don’t tell anyone back home,” he says.
I shake my head in laughter and smile up at him as he helps me push my seat in. As Cade sits down, I peek over at Lawson from beneath my lashes and see his eyes flickering back and forth between me and Cade. His expression is polite and neutral, but the hardness of his jaw and slight tick in his cheek are giveaways that something is off.
I look at him for a few seconds, and my attention is drawn away when Smith reappears and takes his seat next to Lawson. “I’ve been thinking about this meal all day,” he says, excitement clear in his voice as he pats his stomach. “Thanks, Mama!”
“Yes, thank you, Mama. There’s nothing that beats a home-cooked meal,” I say.
After this statement, the rest of the men at the table chime in and express their thanks. My mother just brushes off their gratitude and orders them to eat.
“It’s my pleasure. Cade, it’s nice to have you visiting. We’ve heard great things about you,” she says warmly before turning to the man who’s been driving me crazy. “And Lawson dear, thanks for joining us as well. It’s always a pleasure to see you. Now, let’s eat!”
We all start serving ourselves and are all piling hearty portions of my mother’s stew onto our plates. My mouth waters as I inhale a deep breath of the delicious scent. I’m definitely going to miss this. We eat in silence for a few minutes before the conversation picks back up. The dinner talk is directed toward Cade since he’s our guest of honor, but it’s only a matter of time before the focus shifts to Lawson.
“So, how’s business going, Lawson? I know you’re always very busy, and I feel awful knowing that I’m pulling you away from other work to fix our barn roof,” my mother asks, the worry clear in her voice.
“Business is great, Mrs. Layne. It’s definitely keeping me busy and please, don’t feel awful. You’re all practically family, and I’m happy to help out in any way I can.”
“Oh, you’re such a sweetheart. Thank you, Lawson.”
“It’s my pleasure, it really is. I can’t turn down a pretty woman such as yourself, especially if she needs help,” he says, turning on the charm.
“Watch it, son. I don’t want to have to shoot you for stealing my wife,” my father chimes in jokingly.
The table laughs as Lawson banters easily with my parents while everyone eats. I feel slight annoyance spark to life at the easygoing way he’s talking to everyone else but me. He’s focusing on them and rarely looks in my direction, but when he does his eyes dim and there’s a barely noticeable tightening of his mouth. It’s become clear to me that he has a problem with me, but I can’t fathom what it could be.
“All I can say is that it’s such a shame to keep you locked away, working all the time. The poor women of this town must not to know what to do with themselves,” my mother says.
“Ha! The women of this town don’t stand a chance, Mama. Lawson doesn’t date,” Smith chimes in.
Oh God, why are we on this topic?
“You don’t date? Like at all?” My mother sounds genuinely surprised, and I look at her to make sure she isn’t meddling. Her face is the picture of innocence, and her eyes don’t even flicker my way. Oh yeah, she’s meddling all right.
“No, he doesn’t!”
“Hush, Smith. Your name isn’t Lawson, is it?” my mother asks. She shifts her focus back to Lawson and asks, “Now, what’s this all about? You’re young and available, Lawson James Westbrook,” she practically scolds.
A heavy silence hangs in the air for a few moments as we wait for him to respond. With bated breath, I finally force myself to look at him. He looks as if he’s thinking about how to word his answer. When he finally responds he simply says, “I’m just not looking for anything serious.”
Before he can continue, Smith interjects quickly with, “Yeah, I’d bet all my savings that it’s because you’re seein’ someone.” My brother chuckles at his words, not knowing that my heart has lodged itself in my throat.
I fight to keep my gaze on Lawson’s face. The myriad of emotions that play out across his face range from surprised and disbelieving to guarded and weary, all in the blink of an eye and all without looking at me.
“I am not,” he replies.
“I call bull,” Smith laughingly says. “We rarely hang out anymore. If you’re just out having fun you usually tell me about it, but you’ve been close-lipped. It must be serious because you’re not tellin’ me anything.”
My chest tightens when I hear this. False hope, I think repeatedly. Don’t get false hope.
Everyone else at the table is looking at Lawson expectantly, and he chooses to respond after finally looking my way with a look I can’t read.
“Fine, I’m maybe seein’ someone. It’s nothing serious.” He says these words while looking me straight in the eyes, and I feel the rising heat of a blush fight its way up my neck.
“I knew it!” Smith crows in triumph. “If it’s not serious then why didn’t you say anything till now?”
“Not worth mentioning.” He pulls his gaze from mine, and I feel my spirits drop with the loss of visual contact.
Ouch.
Cade senses my inner turmoil and lifts his arm so that it’s resting on the back of my chair. I feel a gentle squeeze on my shoulder and know that he’s offering his support and probably restraining himself from punching Lawson in the face.
I look up at Cade and smile in gratitude and as a sign that I’ll be okay. I’m still looking at my friend when my attention is captured once again by the man across from me.
“And to further answer your question, Mrs. Layne,” Lawson continues, “I don’t know if I’ll ever want to settle down. I haven’t met the woman yet who makes me want to do that.” He pauses as he thinks about his next words. His eyes move back to me and they turn a glacial shade of jade when they land on Cade’s arm around my chair. His nostrils flare slightly, and I see a slight furrow start in his brow before he swings his piercing gaze toward my mother when she clears her throat.
“What type of woman would make you settle down, Lawson?” my mother asks, genuinely curious.
“Not entirely sure. I haven’t thought about it much. I just know I want her to be honest. There isn’t anyone yet who’s caught my eye, let alone captured my trust. Women will say stuff to make you believe one thing,” he says as he looks at me again, “but they eventually show their true colors. Besides, I don’t know a lot of women who really want to settle down. They’re also content to play the field, so to speak, and aren’t comfortable at the thought of one man taking care of them.”
What the hell? His face is serene, but his eyes are blazing at me in accusation. What in the heavens is he trying to say?
I look back at him, unable to voice my confusion or ask him what he means. He looks away yet again and addresses the table with words much warmer than the look he just pinned me with.
“And of course, I hope she’s beautiful,” he chuckles.
“Don’t lump all women in the same group, dear,” my mother chides gently. “Mark my words, you’ll find someone when you least expect it, and it’ll happen sooner than you think.” Her words are airy, but her tone is filled with confidence and wisdom.
“We’ll see, Mrs. Layne. We’ll see,” he says. “Enough about me and my bachelor ways,” he laughs charmingly. “Those aren’t changing anytime soon. What I need to know,” he looks to my father, “is how Smith learned to fish, Mr. Layne. His skills are nothing compared to yours. He’s putting a smudge on the good family name,” he says good-naturedly.
His words cause a roar of laughter to erupt from m
y father’s throat and an indignant huff to leave Smith as he begins to defend his honor.
Cade squeezes my shoulder again, and I catch the sympathetic look my mother sends my way. She must’ve been wrong earlier in the kitchen because whenever my gaze clashes with Lawson’s, there is nothing warm and fuzzy about it; in fact, it feels colder than a Chicago winter.
The conversation at the table continues, Lawson’s teasing and subject change alleviating some of the earlier tension building in the air like an oncoming thunderstorm. He doesn’t look at me again, but I vow to give him a piece of my mind the next time we are alone.
20
The rest of dinner passes by without any additional awkwardness, probably because I completely avoid looking at Lawson. The conversation also steers clear of anyone’s love life or lack thereof. I’m beyond relieved when Lawson announces that he’s leaving shortly after dinner is over. With a parting smile and a promise to stay longer next time, he’s out of the house and in his truck, the taillights winking goodbye in the night. I inhale and breathe deeply, instantly feeling less tense. I thought I was confused before, but it’s nothing compared to how I’m feeling now.
I offer to help my mother clean up and she staunchly refuses, saying I should focus on my guest. Not a bad idea.
I turn to Cade and raise an eyebrow in question. “Since we didn’t get to it earlier, do you wanna see the barn I’ve been working on, CC?” My voice is eager and filled with pride; I can’t wait to show him how hard I’ve been working.
One long arm extends away from his body, palm up, as he gestures toward the front door. “After you.”
“We’re not quite ready yet.” I walk deeper into the house and beckon him to follow with a tilt of my head.
I lead him to the enclosed porch that runs the length of the back of the house where the sharp, tangy sweetness of apples blends with the fragrant, pleasant scent of applewood.
“I need your muscles,” I say over my shoulder. We step over slats of wood and around empty barrels that have a light smattering of sawdust as we make our way to the shelves on the other side of the room.
“That’s what all the ladies say,” I hear from behind me.
“Oh stop,” I laugh. I place my hands on my hips as I stop in front of the racks. Dozens of mason jars glint brightly, the lights making them shine in a way that contrasts beautifully against the worn, aged wood of the shelves.
Turning around to face Cade, I gesture toward the contents of the room. “I don’t need all of this, but I could use your help in carrying some of this stuff, please. My father made some bowls out of applewood and some frames that I want on display in the barn. Not to mention,” I point with my thumb behind me, “I’m going to need a lot of this jam in there, too. It’ll only take one trip between the two of us.”
Cade’s taking everything in and a smile lifts his lips when he looks back at me. “Only you, Mac, would make me work on my vacation.”
“Hey now! I’ll pay you.”
“You can’t afford me.”
“Ew.” I shake my head in mock disgust. “I’ll pay you in apple jelly and apple butter. I promise you either is worth its weight in gold.”
“Fine,” he rolls his eyes playfully, but I know he’s secretly pleased at doing something that requires physical activity. Cade isn’t one to stay idle.
“I’ll take the bowls, frames, and some of the jars if you don’t mind taking the rest of it. I can handle a few jars no problem, but when carried together they’re awfully heavy.”
“Well,” he flexes his arms and the sleeves of his shirt strain against his biceps, “you asked the right guy. Let’s do this.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes and laugh. “You’re such a nerd,” I say with affection in my voice.
We quickly get to work and have everything packed up so we can easily make it in one trip. I’m grateful for the help and take advantage of Cade’s strength, packing more jars of jam than I originally planned on taking. When we make it to the barn I swing the door open dramatically.
“I present to you,” I flourish, “the newly renovated, not quite done but almost there, apple cider barn of Shady Layne Orchard.”
The barn lights up as the doors open and we step in with our haul. I survey the room, and my heart swells with satisfaction at the sight before my eyes. What used to be a neglected, dirty space is beautiful and welcoming once again. When I’m not passing out from orgasmic bliss with Lawson, the rest of my time is spent in here, hard at work. Everything is now pristine, and Lawson finished the interior part of the roof, ensuring nothing else can get in now. All that’s left to do is fix the shingles up top, make some cider, and open for business.
“This is it,” I say as we make our way over gleaming wood floors. I set down the frames on the counter and walk around, my hands gliding over the smooth surface. “You should’ve seen it before. What do you think?”
Cade looks around and doesn’t answer as he starts to explore the large space. I let him look around without interruption but can’t help the small knot of nervousness twisting in my gut. Once I realize I’m wringing my hands uselessly, I decide to occupy them and put them to better use. I start shelving jams in neat little rows on a counter display and on the built-in racks behind me. I get to the jars of apple butter and smile as I swipe my thumb across the labels I created. I wonder if Lawson has tried his apple butter, I think before halting that train of thought. I need to stop thinking about him, even though it’s difficult when everything around me right now reminds me of him.
My fingers are grazing the smooth, pocked wood of the bowls my father made when Cade finally answers my question.
“This is awesome, Mac. I’m impressed.” His tone is genuine, and he’s still looking around the space with assessing eyes. “The setup you have is really nice, and it has a warm ambience. Customers are going to love it. Did your dad make this, too?” he asks, running his hands over a long table on the far side of the room.
I smile because I love that table so much. “He sure did. He’s definitely talented. He made the table years ago, but it’s just been sitting in the back of the house. I was so excited when they said I could move it in here,” I say as I grab a jar of jelly and walk over. I roll the smooth container between my palms and, once I get to the table, set it down so I can trail my fingers over the chairs my father made from apple barrels. “He’s a crafty one. Now that he’s older, he sticks to the small stuff but he made all the shelving, the countertop, and the furniture here.”
“Wow,” Cade breathes in awe.
“I know,” I agree. “All that’s left to do is put a few more products out and get the cider going, which should be easier than cleaning this place up.”
Cade lets out a large yawn as he nods and says something unintelligible. I think he said he can’t wait to try it, but I can’t be too sure.
“You’ve had a long day, CC.” I reach over and rub his back for a few seconds. “You should head up to bed.”
“I’m okay, I want to help.” His helpful words are followed by another yawn.
Laughing, I start to push him toward the barn door. “Not tonight, mister. I’m going to put the frames away and will be right behind you.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, his fatigue finally getting the better of him. “You better be in bed soon.”
“Yeah yeah, Mr. Bossy. I’ll be in bed soon. Now go.” I give one final push and watch for a moment as he heads to the house and disappears inside.
I turn back into the barn and notice the lone mason jar of apple jelly I left on the table. I grab it and smile as I think about the exciting changes in store for the orchard now that the barn will be up and running again. I can only hope someone keeps things running after I leave.
“You sure you don’t want to get to bed, too?”
I almost drop the jar in my surprise as I spin around and find Lawson leaning up against the doorframe.
“Seriously, stop doing that!” I shout. “Not cool. You’re going to
give me a heart attack.” My heart is still thumping wildly as the wheels in my head start to turn. “And where the hell did you come from? Have you been here the whole time? I didn’t see your truck.”
“I wanted to double check my supply count for the roof before leaving. I parked on the side of the barn.” He straightens away from the door and lazily prowls into the room, his eyes pinning me in place. It’s the subtle anger I see brewing in his gaze that ignites my own ire from dinner. Time to give him the piece of my mind I promised I’d give him earlier.
21
“You!” I seethe. “What the fuck is your problem?” I stalk toward him and shake the fist holding the jelly.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Oh, you fucking know, you asshole.
His brow arches as his eyes burn brighter. “Oh, I do? And asshole?” he says, a slight tinge of amusement coloring his tone.
Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Oh well. Now that it’s out there, I refuse to take it back. This is not funny.
“Yes, you do! You’ve been acting cold toward me all night. Something is off. You’re polite to my family, but every time you look at me I feel like I did something wrong, like key your truck or offend you somehow. What’s your problem?”
I don’t realize until now that we’re practically standing toe to toe in front of the table and away from the barn door. Good. If we shout I don’t want our voices to carry and alarm my parents.
Sin and Cider Page 16