Nuts

by Alice Clayton

  “It’s on the other side of that big tree.” He pointed at a tree that allegedly concealed something I was supposed to be able to see.

  “Leo, I hate to tell you this, but I sometimes need things spelled out for me. So if there’s something I’m supposed to be seeing? I don’t get it.”

  He pulled me in front of him and leaned down, his chin almost resting on my shoulder. He pointed with one hand, turned my hips with his other, and murmured in my ear. “See it now?”

  And I did. After I got over the riot of butterflies in my tummy at the feel of Leo curving against my back, I could see the remains of an old house on a crumbling stone foundation. Trees grew up through the old walls, and the second floor had fallen into the center years ago. A chimney of fieldstone, leaning precariously, shaped the far wall, while the wall facing us was gone.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  “You know what’s all around that house, right?” he asked, right in my ear.

  Mercy. I loved the feeling of him behind me. I could so get used to it.

  “No?”

  “Your walnut trees.” He nudged me forward on the path, his hand moving from my hip to the small of my back. “Whether the trees were here before the house, or the trees took over after the house was abandoned, I have no idea.”

  “Oh, now that is seriously cool,” I said, delighted at the idea I was meeting the trees that made my cake so delicious. He nodded back at me, in sync on this. I loved knowing where my food was coming from. I let him lead me toward the house, picking my way carefully across fallen rock and downed limbs. The sunlight filtered through, creating a little pocket of dappled green. “This is still your property, right?”

  “Technically it’s my family’s property, but yes. We’re not even halfway across the preserve,” he said, walking over to the biggest tree, knotted and gnarled.

  I marveled at the idea that this family had owned so much land for so long. “So this is a walnut tree, huh? I never would have known.”

  “I wouldn’t have known either, until I was out here one day in the fall and found all the husks on the ground. We’ve got another grove over by the main orchards, but we still come in and harvest here every year.”

  “And the house? Was this one your family built?” I asked, looking back toward the stone foundation.

  “I don’t think so. I’ve looked on a bunch of old maps and surveys of the property, and it seems like it’s part of an older farm that was abandoned long before the Maxwells arrived.” He said his family name with a trace of bitterness. But before I could ask anything else, he turned toward me. “Anyway, I just thought you might like to see it.”

  “It’s nice back here. It’s quiet, peaceful. There’s pockets of peaceful where I live now, but you have to drive pretty far to find them.”

  “I’ve been to LA many times. Peaceful isn’t the first word that springs to mind.”

  “Hmm,” I said, leaning my head back against the tree and staring up into the canopy. The green overlapped, leaves and limbs weaving together, swaying high in a breeze that didn’t make it down to where we standing. Leo leaned against his tree, I leaned against mine, and we were content to drink in the stillness of being so deep in a forest. I breathed in the smell of the dusty, crunchy leaves, the grassy scent of growing things, exhaling in a long slow sigh.

  “Was that a ‘this place is boring’ sigh?” he asked from across the clearing.

  I shook my head. “Hell no. That was a ‘what a good day this turned out to be’ sigh. Perfect weather, perfect temperature, perfect setting. I got to see why chickens cross the road, and see where walnuts come from. Compared to what my days have been like in LA lately, this was exactly what I needed.”

  “A good-day sigh,” he repeated, pushing off from his tree and walking slowly toward me.

  “A great-day sigh,” I amended.

  “An upgrade? Why the change from good to great?”

  He was close enough now that I could see the bit of faint red in his beard along his jaw, the spot on his T-shirt where it was worn thin from years of washing, the veins on the inside of his tanned forearm, and how strong his hands must be.

  “It’s on its way from great to awesome,” I answered, wrapping my arms around the tree behind me, looking for all the world like a damsel in distress. I gazed up at him through lowered lashes, California Roxie on the case. “Especially if you keep coming this way.”

  The grin that crept across his face was less friendly neighborhood farmer and more sexy neighborhood pirate. Then he was suddenly there, inside my dance space.

  It was time to kick this summer romance into gear. There I was, leaning against a tree in a forest with my arms behind me, my breasts thrust forward in the international signal for kiss me, you fool. I looked like the prow of a ship. And there he was, all slow amble and eyes blazing and forearms temptation, a little bit stranger and a little sexy danger.

  And then there it was—a huge bumblebee, bobbing on the unseen flower highway. It buzzed my ear, dive-bombed my neck, laughed in my face, and flew right down between my outthrust boobs.

  I instantly became a flailing, screaming, beating-at-my-chest ball of freak-out. I tore off my shirt to get at the bee and ran in circles around the tree, slapping at my bra while shrieking at the top of my lungs.

  “Roxie? Roxie! What the hell are you—”

  “Beeeeeeeeeeee!” I shouted as he stopped me cold, closing his hands around my arms and trying—but not hard enough—to not look down at my tits, now struggling to stay inside their cups.

  “Okay, calm down. It won’t sting if you calm—”

  “Yes it will! Bees are assholes!” I screamed, shimmying like Charo and trying to break away.

  “Are you allergic?”

  “No!”

  “Then stop squirming!”

  “No!”

  “Settle down, please.”

  “Fuck off!” I thrashed as the bee buzzed inside my bra. “Beeeeee!”

  My primeval brain kicked in, and suddenly a vertical escape seemed to be my only option. I climbed Leo like a totem pole. He got a mouthful of abdomen as I surged onto his shoulders. I wrapped my legs around his head, thighs to ears, and arched backward into the tree. With bark at my back and a scream at my lips, I struck at my bra again. The bee looked at me, and I looked at him, and he glared.

  Though I’ve never been stung by a bee before, I’ve always had a fear of all things buzzy. I’ve left garden parties, eaten inside at barbecues, and refused to hold flowers at an outdoor wedding once, all because of one tiny buzz.

  I swatted at my boobs again once more, and finally succeeded in knocking him clear. He zigged and zagged drunkenly a few times, throwing me a nasty glance over his bee shoulder, then buzzed off into the forest to do whatever he was doing before the crazy lady decided to implode. “Ugh,” I said, shivering.

  “Ugh?” a voice said from below.

  I remembered where I was, what had happened, and where Leo now had his face. Looking down, I brushed his sandy blond hair back from his brow to see his eyes staring up into mine.

  Oh. I was so mortified. “I’m so sor—”

  “Ah gawna seh oo donna,” came the muffled reply, and I scooted further back against the tree, freeing his lips from my rather short shorts.

  “Sorry?” I sang out, trying to make this not at all awkward.

  “I said”—he grasped my hands—“I’m gonna”—giving me a little bounce to get him out from under—“set you”—I flew up in the air before he caught me neatly—“down now.”

  I stood in his arms, shirtless, hair full of bark, my chest red from my slapping. He was covered in mud from my scrambling shoes, breathing heavily, and keeping his hands firmly at my waist, holding me at a safe distance. He shook his head. “You’re a bit of a train wreck, aren’t you?”

  I puffed a bit of hair away from my face. “Choo choo?”

  Thank goodness, he laughed.

  Then he gallantly turned around while I put my T-shi
rt back on, which was sweet, considering he’d already had a substantial peek at the goods. Then we began walking back toward the Jeep.

  “So what’s with the bees?” he asked.

  “Where?” I asked, automatically ducking. My heart rate spiked at the thought that the bee had returned to get his revenge.

  “Easy there, he’s long gone.”

  “Good,” I said, scanning the area.

  “He’s probably telling all of his buddies to steer clear of the lady in the woods in her underwear.”

  “Hey!” I said, giving him an elbow. “It was just my bra.”

  He just shook his head and chuckled. “No more nature for you today.” He placed his hand on the small of my back again and guided me toward the road.

  It was quiet, just the sounds of our feet crunching through the underbrush. I looked up at him, his face almost in shadow. It was past dusk; we’d been out in the woods for a while. The fireflies were beginning to turn on, sparking here and there in the twilight. We’d spent the better part of the afternoon together, and it had flown by.

  “Bees aside, thanks for bringing me out here. And sorry again about the climbing. And the screaming.”

  “Next time, less screaming. Climbing is fine; just gimme a heads up,” he replied with an easy smile.

  By now we’d reached the Jeep. “Climbing,” I announced in warning, stepping up high and settling into my seat. He stood next to the car a moment longer, and I looked at him curiously. “What’s up, Leo?”

  “You’re only here for the summer, right?” he asked, his eyes staring intently into mine.

  I felt the tiniest of jolts running through me.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Maybe this would be easier than I thought, if we both wanted the same thing. Did this mean . . .

  He leaned into the Jeep, one hand grasping the roll bar over my head, the other resting on the dashboard. Caged in by his strong arms, I looked up into his face. The edge of his mouth lifted in a sneaky grin. “Then I should probably get going on this.”

  Then his lips were on mine, warm and soft. Mmm. My eyes were still open, searching his. Thrilled and emboldened by his sudden move, my mouth molded to his. The kiss was quick, too quick—before I could close my eyes and begin to revel in it, he pulled back, licking his lips and grinning like a cat.

  “Hey, get back here,” I insisted, slipping my hands behind his neck, my thumbs grazing his cheekbones. I pulled his mouth back to mine, luxuriating in the feel of him. His beard tickled a bit, raspy and soft at the same time. I liked it. I more than liked it. I could see how I would very quickly begin to crave it. I leaned into the kiss, rising out of my seat a little, brushing his lips with mine. We kissed again and again, little light lip explosions and soft teasing brushes. I sighed into his mouth, and he pulled back slightly. I tried to follow his lips, and he chuckled.

  “Was that a ‘this is boring’ sigh?”

  “Are you kidding? That was a ‘please to be kissing me more’ sigh.” I pressed another kiss to his lips.

  “ ‘Please to be kissing me’?” he asked, his eyes full of laughter.

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded, placing a kiss on his forehead, his nose, his chin, and one final one on his mouth. “Is that how every farm tour ends?”

  “I’d say that’s a first.” He laughed, leaning across me and clicking my seat belt.

  “Good,” I replied as he walked around to his side of the Jeep. “I like being an original.”

  “Oh, I’ll give you that,” he answered, starting up the car and giving me a sexy grin.

  My toes pointed. I couldn’t help it. We drove back to the main house, where he put me in my car, then kissed me once more before I left.

  And as I drove home, I fiddled with my music, scrolling through songs until I found Achtung Baby. I’d forgotten how awesome this album was.

  Chapter 9

  When the alarm went off the next morning at 4:30, I began listing all the reasons I should throttle my mother. By 4:37 I had seventeen well-thought-out reasons that would be hard to prosecute under New York State law. But by 4:57 I was in the car, wet hair tied back into a bun, travel mug of coffee in hand, ready for a day of blue plates and blue hairs.

  I hated being up this early, as any human would. There was nothing worse than being dragged out of bed before the sun had even thrown back its covers, to clean out grease traps and chop seventy heads of iceberg lettuce for “salad.” This was my life from about the age of eleven through high school graduation. Same thing, day after day. That was part of the reason I’d chosen the private chef route: there was always something new and exciting to play around with, new menus to create, new taste buds to tantalize. Nothing ho hum there.

  I squashed that thought as I headed into town. As the sun crept over the mountains, I moaned and groaned about how early it was the entire way to the diner. Yet there was something about the air this early, especially in the summer. It was clean and fresh as I drove with my windows down. Though the forecast called for rain, right now the skies were clear, without a trace of humidity.

  I yawned as I pulled into my spot behind the diner. I’d slept particularly poorly last night. Was it because I’d had a farmer ambling in and out of my dreams? And in and out of . . . Well. Yes, indeed. I touched my lips in remembrance of the feel of his mouth on mine, and with a secretive smile, I unlocked the back door and started my day.

  By 8 a.m. I had veggies prepped for the day, six batches of blue-ribbon meat loaf mixed up and ready for the oven for the lunch service, and I was barking right back at Maxine and Sandy when they asked for four on two over easy, and fry two, let the sun shine. I ran the griddle until Carl came in at 9, then I headed into the walk-in fridge to see about something new for tomorrow’s lunch special. Wednesday had been Beef Stew Day since time began, but I thought I might try something a little different. If Albert was willing to try something new, some of the other stalwart customers might be open to it as well. Modifying the stew wasn’t exactly negotiating a peace treaty in the Middle East, but it could be my own little victory.

  Propping the door of the walk-in open a bit to avoid becoming trapped, I perused the shelves, noting my mother’s disorganization. “Carl, you good if I work in here for a bit? Rearrange some things?” I called out.

  “Sure, sure Roxie, leave me alone out here,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

  I knew he was happier when he was left alone. Carl had worked here as long as anyone can remember; even my mother wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. One of my earliest memories was Carl flicking water on the griddle to clean it off. I liked working with him. He was quiet, he didn’t let the waitresses pull him into any drama, and he never lost his cool, even when we were at our busiest.

  I stepped back out into the kitchen to grab my sweatshirt. “Call me if you get in the weeds, okay?” I stepped back into the walk-in, grabbed the clipboard from its hook, and started doing an inventory.

  As I did, I rearranged everything so that like went with like. Proteins on one side, vegetables and fruit on the other. The menu was so heavily dependent on the standard diner items (Salisbury steak, chicken pot pie, burgers, etc.) that the fresh selection was a bit sparse; most of the fresh deliveries went directly into the freezer for later. As I reorganized, I started thinking of ways I could repurpose some of these ingredients. I was deeply engrossed in calculating how many pounds of potatoes I needed for fries and if I’d have enough left over to do a fennel and potato gratin when I heard a knock on the propped-open door.

  “I’m coming, Carl,” I called, setting down the clipboard and starting to push open the door.

  “Why am I suddenly jealous of Carl?” Leo filled up the doorway with his big body and grin.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as he took a step toward me. “It’s not your normal delivery day.”

  “Would you believe me if I said I had some beets to bring by?”

  “It would depend on the beet,” I said. “What else you got?”

  “What ar
e you wearing?” he asked, taking another step.

  I backed up into the lettuce. “This?” I opened the sides of my very attractive gray zip-up hoodie.

  “It’s pretty fucking great,” he said, taking the last step and slipping his hands inside my sweatshirt, settling low around my hips.

  “You didn’t really bring me beets, did you?” I said, not feeling the cold around me at all. I let my hands come up to his chest, sliding up and around his neck.

  “I did,” he murmured, his thumbs sliding underneath my T-shirt the tiniest bit. “I brought mad beets.”

  “Oh man,” I snorted, which changed to a snortmmm as he nuzzled my neck. “Did you bring me anything else?”

  He brought his face back to mine, tinged with the slightest of blush. “I hesitate to say it now.”

  “What did you bring?” I asked, shaking his shoulders.

  He buried his head once again into my neck. “A really big zucchini” was the muffled reply, and I threw my head back and laughed. He continued on his nuzzle path, now sweeping kisses back up toward my ear.

  “I’m taking my beets and going home,” he whispered, and my laughter stopped as he licked my skin.

  “No, no, you went to all that trouble to bring me that zucchini. At least let me see it.”

  He groaned into my neck. “Now you’re just killing me.” He made to pull away, and I tugged him back.

  “You should stay just another minute,” I said, turning my head to allow him better access to my sweet spot. Well, the sweetest spot accessible right now. “Oh yeah . . . you should definitely stay another minute . . . or seven.”

  He answered with a kiss on my collarbone. “Is that the diner version of Seven Minutes in Heaven? I feel like a teenager.”

  “I’ll go you one better,” I said, arching up into him, feeling my breasts press against his chest. “My mom’s out of town; you wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

  “Now you’re talking,” he told my bra strap, which he was pushing aside to dance little kisses on the skin underneath. My shoulder was in heaven. He gathered my hair back into his fist, sweeping it off my shoulders. He inhaled deeply. “Did anyone ever tell you that you smell like honey?”