“My idea of experimenting with food is to put different taco sauce on frozen burritos.”
Sierra sliced tomatoes. “I haven’t seen you on the bus lately.”
“I’ve got a job after school or I’m studying at the library.”
“You work with your uncles during the week?” She slathered mayo on the bread and placed it over the tomato.
“Nah. I work part-time as an EMT on the Crook County ambulance crew.”
Her eyes met his. “Don’t you have to be eighteen to be certified?”
“I passed the course last spring after I turned eighteen.”
No wonder he didn’t look like a boy—he wasn’t one. She slid his sandwich onto a plate and set it in front of him.
“Tell me what that little shit Kyler said about me when I haven’t been on the bus to defend myself.”
“He mentioned that you’re…kind of mean.” Not entirely true. Kyler said Boone had a bad reputation.
“Bullshit. What’s he really say?”
So Sierra told him.
Boone grinned. “I’m back to being bad boy Boone, eh? Cool.”
No explanation.
Sierra filled two water glasses and parked herself next to him at the breakfast bar. This was surreal. Having lunch with Boone West. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. God. He was so hot.
“How you like livin’ in Sundance?”
“I’m starting to like it better.”
“You’re hanging out with Marin Godfrey, right?”
“Why? Is she a troublemaker or something?”
Boone shook his head. “No, she’s cool. I saw you talking to Angie and Kara. Those two chicks have bad reputations. Don’t go to any of the parties they invite you to, okay?”
She wasn’t a country bumpkin waiting to taste her first beer. “Umm, no. If I actually get invited to a party, I’m going. And FYI, I went to parties all the time in Arizona. I’ve probably seen more wild stuff than you have, Boone.” An exaggeration, but he wouldn’t know that.
He chuckled. “Don’t bet on it.”
“Do you go to those parties?”
“Sometimes. So I know what I’m talking about when I tell you to steer clear.”
She drained her water and felt him staring at her. She faced him and said, “What?” a little sharply.
“Don’t get pissy with me. You’re a pretty girl.” His gaze slowly roamed her face. “Scratch that, you’re a beautiful girl and I don’t want to see the jerks and assholes taking advantage of you because you’re new to town, looking for friends and a good time.”
Had Boone really said she was pretty? Wait. He’d said she was beautiful? Get out. And she looked like shit today.
“Sierra? Were you even listening to me?”
“Ah. Yeah. Sure. Watch the parties. Got it.”
After he finished his sandwich and the other half of hers, he said, “Is that your Jeep Waggoner parked out front?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Sweet ride. I love those classic cars.”
“My dad says I’m still learning to drive so he never lets me go anywhere by myself. He’s being such a hardass about it.”
Boone wiped his mouth with a napkin. “He should be. Driving on the gravel roads takes getting used to. We get all sorts of accident calls and that’s before the snow and icy conditions start.”
Talk about treating her like a kid sister. That wasn’t the way she wanted him to see her at all. Maybe she should’ve worn that stupid push-up bra.
He rinsed their lunch plates. Then he slayed her with his high-power grin. “I’d better get back to work before my uncles see that I’m not starved to death. Thanks for lunch. It was awesome.”
“You’re welcome.”
“See ya around, McKay.”
Sierra stood by the window, watching him walking away, a plan hatching in her mind. If she ever was at a party with him, she’d show him that she could live up to the wild McKay reputation she’d heard so much about.
Chapter Eight
“No. I don’t care what the policy was before. My management policy is the tenant’s problem gets addressed the first time they call, not the third.” Gavin paced in front of his desk. “This bullshit has been going on since I bought the property three months ago? Leave Chris a message. I’d better hear from him today, or he’ll be in the unemployment line tomorrow.” He hung up.
Jesus. He’d been so distracted with Sierra’s arrest and the custody hearing that he’d let a few things slide in the transition to running his business remotely. Things he’d deal with when he wasn’t so pissed off.
Full of restless energy, he laced up his running shoes and hopped on his treadmill. At least he’d put the anger to good use.
Gavin ran for an hour. Then he cooled down and lifted free weights. Last year his blood pressure had skyrocketed, forcing him to shed thirty pounds and take charge of his health. An exercise regimen, the right diet, the right medication and he felt like a new man. He even had a libido—something he’d never had much of until medical tests four months ago revealed low levels of testosterone.
At first he’d scoffed at taking testosterone supplements. He’d gotten by fine for years without them. But in thinking about how little interest he’d had in sex over the years, he decided he had nothing to lose.
And thinking about sex…his thoughts drifted to Rielle. The woman made him insanely hard. Just sitting beside her at breakfast, he had the urge to pull her onto his lap and kiss the hell out of her, while running his hands down her muscled arms. Then he’d hold her generous breasts before clamping his hand on her ass, bringing her pelvis against his so she’d know exactly how hard she made him. He was getting a woody right now just thinking about her.
Stop. Time for a cold shower.
Then maybe he’d wander down to the Garden of Ree and see what chores his too-tempting roomie had assigned herself today.
“Rielle?”
She pivoted in the dirt and faced Gavin. “Are you lost?”
“No. Just exploring.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m lonely.”
“Right. You’re bored.”
His low, throaty laugh was seductive. “That too. I followed the road that winds around the gardens and it ended abruptly.”
“It ends to deter explorers.”
“You are hilarious. So what are you ripping out, plowing up, or chopping down today?”
Rielle peeled off her gloves and set them on top of the fence before she left the fenced garden. “I’m about to check my fruit trees to see how close I am to harvest.”
“Then you what? Pick them, load them and haul them to a farmer’s market?”
“Some gets sold locally, but the bulk goes to restaurants across the country.”
“There’s a market for it outside of Wyoming?”
“A much bigger market.”
Gavin fell in step with her as she headed toward the grove of trees at the bottom of a small hill.
Rielle gestured to the orchard. “These are considered old fruit trees. They’d been here thirty years when my parents bought the place thirty years ago. So they’re sixty-year-old trees that’ve never been treated with pesticide. That’s incredibly rare.”
“So you just leave them be and let nature take her course?”
“I prune and water and use natural pest repellents. It usually works. But one year the trees were infested with some weird bug and had zero yield. I figured all the trees were done for because…”
“You couldn’t spray them.”
“Exactly. The next year, the trees came back stronger than ever, no bugs. I chalked it up to nature knowing what the trees needed better than I did.”
He walked alongside her. “I am a clueless urbanite when it comes to trees—with the exception of recognizing orange and grapefruit trees.”
“I think it would be cool to walk into your backyard and pick a grapefruit for breakfast.” She touched a branch of the closest tree. “This is a pine sweet apple.�
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“Never heard of that variety.” His eyes lit up. “Ah, this is the tree that lays the golden apples.”
She laughed. “Yep. I have two of these. Next in line are mountain pear trees, again a rarity. These two are the fussiest of all the trees; I never count on any kind of yield.”
“But when it does bear fruit?”
“I get five bucks apiece for them. They’re so tiny, yet have such robust flavor. One chef in Chicago has a standing order to buy the entire crop. He’s anxiously awaiting shipment because it’s been two years since these suckers have bloomed.”
Gavin whistled.
“The next two trees are golden apricot. I sell the fruit to locals or find some use for it in my own cooking and canning. After those are the plum trees. The variety is sweet water pink, another rarity. The skin is such a deep purple it’s almost black, but the flesh is a very pale pink. The fruit doesn’t get big, and it tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a strawberry.”
“What’s the going rate for a sweet water pink plum?”
“Six bucks apiece.”
“Do you sell them around here?”
She shook her head. “Wyomingites won’t spend that on a beer, let alone on a tiny piece of fruit. There’s a Japanese fusion restaurant in San Francisco that takes the whole lot every year. My understanding is the chef slices a single fruit and plates it with single curls of white, dark and milk chocolate and charges twenty-five bucks for it.”
They kept walking and she began to feel self-conscious, blathering on about trees. “You sure you’re interested in this? Or are you just being polite?”
He stopped and grabbed her hand. “I’m very interested.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never known anyone who makes a living off the land the way you do. I mean, yes, the McKays do, but in a different way. I’ve watched you nurturing your garden, slaving to harvest, exhausted but exhilarated. It’s something to behold. I don’t think I could do it year in, year out, being at the whim of nature and the weather.”
Rielle stood close enough to him to let his eyes draw her in. That vivid blue, the same blue all the McKays had, but his eyes seemed…brighter somehow. Truer. Something about Gavin said trust me. This was the first time she’d ever had that gut reaction. Because she didn’t trust easily, that made her attraction to him all the more acute.
“I like seeing you this way,” he said in his rough and compelling voice.
“How’s that?”
“In your element.”
“Meaning covered in dirt?”
“You being dirty suits me just fine, Rielle.”
Oh. My. God. Had he really meant it that way? Yes, if the heat in his eyes was a sign.
“I don’t even know what to say to that, Gavin.”
He just smiled. He dropped her hand and pointed to the last two trees. “What about those? Magic Mediterranean figs that taste like ambrosia and earn you a hundred bucks a pop?”
In that moment the sexual tension vanished and everything went back to normal between them. She was glad for it, even when she had a pang of regret for being tongue-tied when he always came up with such sexy off-the-cuff comments. “Those are just plain old red delicious apples.”
“But from sixty-year-old trees.”
“Yep. I don’t sell many of those. I sacrifice them to the deer, hoping they’ll gorge themselves on these first two trees and leave my other trees the hell alone.”
“Logical. But I see you’ve erected some netting as extra insurance.”
“That’s mostly to keep the birds away. That’s also why I’ve let the chokecherry bushes get overgrown. It’s a natural deterrent and a critter barrier.” She ducked under the netting and beckoned to him. “Come into my secret garden, tycoon.”
A smiling Gavin followed her without question.
At the base of the plum tree, she pointed to a branch directly above his head. “I can’t reach that high, so I want you to pick that plum closest to the trunk.”
“Seriously? You’re letting me try a six dollar piece of fruit?” His eyes took on a strange twinkle. “I’ll warn you, I don’t have any bills smaller than a twenty on me.”
“I oughta charge you double for that crack. Go on. Pick it.”
Curling his fingers around it, he tugged and promptly handed the fruit to her as if it was a bomb. “It’s so small. And warm.”
“That’s what makes it so luscious.” Rielle held the fruit between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ll take the first bite so you can see how juicy and tender the pink flesh is.” Keeping her eyes on his, she brought it to her mouth, using the very edges of her teeth to sink down through the skin. The instant the sweet juice hit her tongue she closed her eyes and moaned. Normally she limited herself to the damaged or near rotten fruit, not the perfect ones such as this.
When Rielle opened her eyes, Gavin was right there. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “See how the juice coats the pink flesh when it’s soft and warm?”
“Goddamn, I want a taste,” he said, his voice a deep rasp. “A full taste.”
“Of this fruit?”
His hot blue gaze locked to hers, broadcasting that he wasn’t thinking about the plum. “Oh, I’d take a full taste of that too.” Holding her hand in place, he bent forward and sucked the other half from her fingers. “Mmm.” After he removed the pit from his mouth, he nipped her fingertips. “I’m thinking I need another taste.”
“Gavin.”
“You know what I want to do right now? Lick every bit of juice off your lips. Then I want to suck it off your tongue. So when I kiss you the first time? I’ll know the sweetness and heat is all you.”
Her mouth had gone desert dry, but she eked out a soft, “Do it.”
Just as Gavin started to close the distance, the bushes behind them rattled. They both jumped back and a deer bounded past.
Cheeks burning, Rielle retreated, ducking out of the netting.
Gavin caught her hand and spun her to face him. “Rielle. Stop. Don’t run from me.”
“I’m not running.”
He quirked a brow. “Did you suddenly remember you left muffins burning in the oven or something?”
“Okay. Maybe I was running.”
“Why? Are you upset by what just happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she said quickly.
His handsome face reflected grim amusement. “Maybe that’s why you’re upset? Because I am. I’m not much of a hunter, but if I would’ve had a rifle, I would’ve blasted that damn deer for interrupting us.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“That’s better. I like to hear you laugh as much as I like to see you smile.” His thumb swept across the pulse point in her wrist. “I really like that you urged me to kiss you and I almost did.”
She tried to jerk her hand away but he held firm. “Why are you determined to embarrass me?”
“Why are you determined to pretend this is nothing?” he countered, his eyes serious. “Or is almost kissing in the orchard like giddy teenagers normal for you? Because I have to admit, it’s not normal for me. Not even close.”
Buoyed by his confession, Rielle smiled at him. “Me either. Come on.” She walked closer to him as they strolled back to the gardens.
“How do you harvest all that fruit?”
“Get a ladder, strap on a bag and start picking.”
“No, I mean by yourself. That’s dangerous work.”
“You know that’s how it goes when you run your own business. When things need to be done, you just do them and don’t think about it.”
“How long does it take?”
“Not all the fruit is ripe at the same time so it varies. I’ll pick the plums on Wednesday and ship them Thursday. The pears look to have at least a week left. The apples, another two weeks minimum. Why?”
“Because I volunteer my services as a fruit picker.”
She wouldn’t get anyt
hing done with Gavin distracting her. “Don’t you have construction workers to boss around?”
“I excel at multitasking.” He pointed to a small structure at the top of the rise. “What is that building used for? And is it on my property?”
“Technically, yes, it’s on your property. It’s a honey house.”
As expected, his head whipped around and he flashed her a depraved grin. “Do tell.”
“It’s a place to process my honey away from the bees.” She gestured to the stacks of white boxes in front of a cluster of chokecherry and buffalo berry bushes. “I’ll check my bees in the next couple days.”
“Checking your bees… Is that like minding your p’s and q’s?”
“Clever, tycoon. But no. It’s a little more involved.”
“Why in the hell would you want to keep bees? Don’t they sting you?”
“Only if provoked. At first I started a few hives because Wyoming joined an experimental subsidy program and it paid well, especially for a single mom. But I believe in the program and honeybees are essential in pollination of one third of the world’s crops. I have a higher yield in my gardens because of the bees. The ranchers that plant alfalfa reap the benefits of my bees too. Win win, right? Plus, I get to sell the product and the byproducts.”
He frowned. “Byproducts…plural?”
“The honey and the beeswax. Have you ever tasted wildflower honey?”
“I don’t know. Does it taste different?”
“Yes. And my honey tastes different from someone else’s honey.”
Gavin’s hot mouth brushed across her knuckles. “Of that I’ve no doubt. And I can’t wait to taste yours.”
Her entire body heated. Was she having a hot flash? Or were his words just that sexually potent? Yeah. It was all him.
“So those stacks of white boxes scattered all over the property. Those are bee traps?”
She snorted. “Bee traps. Those are the hives.”
“Square hives?”
“Technically they’re called supers.”
“How do you get the honey out?”
Gone Country: Rough Riders, Book 14 Page 6