Chapter 9

nine

CANDACE

“So, you saw them what? Being affectionate? In a passionate embrace? Eye-fucking? Break it down for me, Candace.”

I quickly swallowed the pizza roll I was eating and sucked in a cooling breath as the too-hot cheese threatened to blister my tongue. “Ow. Crap. No, I mean. Not really.”

“How would you describe it, then?” Bonnie asked again.

It was Sunday night after another busy day at the Orchard Festival, and Bonnie had tomorrow off from teaching since it was Labor Day. The farm wasn’t open to tourists on Mondays, and as exhausted as I was from working the festival all weekend, I was up for a late night with my new friend.

We currently had on moisturizing mud masks while we ate like frat boys on the living room floor of the garage apartment. The television was on in the background with a Psych rerun, but we weren’t really paying attention. It didn’t matter, I’d seen this episode like four times.

I’d confessed to Bonnie the scene I’d walked in on Saturday afternoon between Mark and my sister. I needed someone else’s perspective. I needed to know if I was seeing something where nothing existed, or if I was simply freaking out because of the almost-kiss. Bonnie was playing the role of sounding board and reality wrangler while I let my imagination run away with me and scarfed down pizza rolls at an alarming rate.

“I don’t know. I got a vibe,” I tried to clarify. “Joan was squeezing his arm, and they were smiling together.”

My sister was not an affectionate person, so voluntary touching was notable.

“They looked cozy,” I added, sounding glum to my own ears.

“And you’re jealous,” Bonnie said without judgment before she popped her own pizza roll into her mouth.

I shifted uncomfortably, crossing my pink-pajama-clad legs. “I guess I thought we had a moment the other night. Mark’s lips had been like a millimeter away from mine before we got interrupted. But then he practically set a new land-speed record getting away from me.”

“Almost like he suddenly realized he had a girlfriend and probably shouldn’t be Frenching her sister,” Bonnie said.

“Exactly.”

Although, I had a hard time imagining my grumpy sister actually getting laid and still being in such a terrible mood all the time. Annnd I should definitely not be thinking about Mark and assuming the sex would be good. Even though I knew it would be. He was good at everything. And so strong and capable, yet sensitive and attentive.

God, maybe that was why Joan had been so cold and angry since I’d returned to Kirby Falls. I’d been spending a lot of time with Mark—working the farmers’ market and tackling the new projects for the orchard together. He’d even stood up for me at the staff meeting and backed me on my ideas. I bet Joan could tell I had a crush on him. I resisted the urge to hide my face in my hands.

The thought of being the other woman once again made me want to barf up my pizza rolls.

Bonnie paused with her wineglass halfway to her lips. “But why would they be hiding a relationship? They’re both adults. Why keep it a secret?”

I considered that for a moment while I chewed another gooey, cheesy bite. “Maybe because they work together? ”

“It’s not like your family farm has an HR department,” Bonnie countered.

“I don’t know. Could be because of all the rumors about his divorce and his daughter. Or maybe he’s just a really private person.”

The truth was I didn’t know for sure what was going on between Mark and my sister. But I did know that following our near-kiss at Firefly the other night, Mark had some very obvious buyer’s remorse. If the runaway-bride act hadn’t clued me in, the deliberate nothing-to-see-here vibes the following day had done it. Like a restaurant hostess, Mark had seated me firmly in the friend zone. I wasn’t about to beg. If he had reservations—Joan-related or not—then I wasn’t going to force it.

We worked together, and I had a life I needed to get back to. A career that was sure to take me out of sight and out of mind in a few short months. No need to make my time in Kirby Falls awkward.

Yet, to myself and maybe Lance Bass, I could admit that I had fun with Mark. Closing out that night at Firefly with a kiss would have been pretty fantastic. Yes, I was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He had that whole gentle giant thing going on. Kind, soft-spoken, competent, and able to bench-press the John Deere tractor out back. Plus, his rock-hard thighs didn’t hurt either. I wanted him to wrap me up in his strong arms and kiss me on the forehead...and other places.

But if he wanted to be just friends, that was okay too. I could do that. And if he was secretly dating my sister, he needed to be a little more careful who he brushed noses with.

Bonnie’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, halting the conversation, which was, honestly, probably a good thing. I should stop discussing Mark and rambling about Mark and thinking about Mark.

She snatched up her cell and read the screen. Her teeth chewed on her bottom lip as she typed out a careful response. Suddenly, I worried that my invitation to hang out tonight had started an argument with her husband.

I didn’t want to be nosy, but the frown on her green-mud-mask-spackled face was pretty severe. “Everything okay? Do you need to go?”

Bonnie’s brown eyes met mine and she forced a smile. “No. I’m staying here with you. We’re having a girls’ night.” Then her phone buzzed once more and her gaze hardened. Her thumbs flew across the screen as she texted.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a little time for myself,” she gritted out before turning the screen off and placing the device facedown on the table.

“Definitely,” I agreed cautiously. I wondered what that was all about, but I didn’t want to push if she didn’t want to talk about it.

After the all-caps text message I’d accidentally seen back at the shaved ice shack, I’d gotten a vibe about Bonnie’s husband. When she’d first arrived tonight, I’d asked after Danny, but Bonnie had given me a pretty vague “he’s fine” in response. I kind of got the impression he took his sweet, thoughtful wife for granted. I didn’t want to cause trouble for my new friend, but I also thought she deserved a night out, or night in as it were.

Instead of making things awkward, I checked the time and said, “We should probably wash this goop off our faces. Twenty minutes was up a while ago.”

Bonnie prodded at the dried concoction covering her chin. “I’d be okay if it shrank my pores down to nothing. Most days I feel like they’re visible from the International Space Station.”

I laughed. “Come on. Let’s rinse and then we can switch it over to your Sons of Anarchy show.”

“Yes, please. You’re going to love it.” She let out a dreamy little sigh. “There is just something about a bad boy on a motorcycle.”

I couldn’t help but think of the photo of Bonnie’s husband, Danny, on her lock screen. He was a thin white guy with a receding hairline and a new mustache he was trying out. He looked like the furthest thing from a leather-wearing MC member you could possibly get.

But maybe the fantasy was just something you squealed over with your girlfriends. Maybe the you who fantasized about bad-boy bikers was just as fictional as the fantasy itself. You didn’t go home with the guy on the television screen. Daydreams looked different for everyone, and they seldom compared to reality.

My own whispered fantasy had taken the shape of someone so unexpected that teenage Candy wouldn’t have known what to think. But here I was, twenty-five years old, back in my hometown, and crushing on a certifiable blast from the past. A man with quiet words, a deep voice, and a kind heart.

A man who was maybe involved with my sister.

Sometimes the fantasy was safer in your own head, like Bonnie’s fixation on dangerous bikers.

I passed her a hand towel and said, “Amen to that.”

The following weekend, I found myself in the foggy early morning setting up for a birthday party at the farm. Little Aiden Dorsey was turning five and, according to his grandmother, had a thing for tractors.

This was my third event since updating the Judd’s Orchard website with details for party rentals. It was actually a pretty easy gig, and something I could manage for my folks on my own.

The parties took place during regular weekend business hours. I simply arrived early to mark the picnic tables reserved and set them up with party decorations, cups of fresh apple cider, and take-home baskets for each guest to pick up to three pounds of apples. All the party hosts needed to do was have their attendees show up. I welcomed everyone, stored any gifts, and slapped wristbands on the children planning to jump on the bounce pillow.

It was easy enough to accompany the party out to the fields and ensure they were going to the rows marked Ripe for Picking . The kids also liked it when I did a little demonstration on the best way to pick apples. Sometimes I hung around and snapped pictures for busy parents. It was fun, and I really enjoyed this part of my job. Making people happy and helping them make memories never got old.

We had at least one party on the schedule every weekend between now and our new closing date of January 1. Joan had agreed to stay open through December and set up the Christmas tree lot to see how things went. She wasn’t ready to plant our own Fraser firs, but I’d found a tree farm north of Weaverville to supply us with trees to sell this year. I was feeling very hopeful .

Sales had been good since the farm opened for the season nearly a month ago. The two Friday Night Food Truck events had been well received, bringing in local families and out-of-towners alike. The cider-and-apple-pairing event at Firefly had been a huge success. We had two other local collaborations coming up in as many weeks, and it was my hope that we’d close out September with a nice net profit for the farm.

As I was straightening the confetti-patterned tablecloth on the first picnic table, I saw Mark approaching from the corner of my eye. It was chilly this mid-September morning, and he wore a dark green flannel over his Judd’s Orchard tee shirt. He’d skipped the ball cap today, and I could see that his dark blond hair was freshly trimmed. Those blue-gray eyes zeroed in on me, and I forced myself to take a centering breath as I tugged the plastic tablecloth into place.

Mark and I hadn’t spoken since the Orchard Festival’s Sunday afternoon street fair last week. We’d both been busy with our respective duties this week. September was the most hectic time of year on an apple farm. Most of our varieties were ripe and ready for harvest. And there was the fact that I’d been avoiding him just a little bit.

But I couldn’t really avoid him now.

“Hey,” Mark said, voice rough with the memory of sleep. “I saw you had a party on the schedule. Thought I’d come help set up.”

“Oh, thank you.”

I didn’t really know how to feel about that, but I did know I was tired of the strained conversation and my cowardly desire to hide out and avoid thinking about Mark and his lips and his lips in proximity to my sister. I needed to do something about this so we could move forward. He was clearly trying to put us back on solid co-worker ground. I needed to buck up and do the same.

“How many are coming?” he asked, eyeing the stack of baskets I had ready to go.

“Thirteen kids and their corresponding adults. Won’t be too bad.”

He started placing the balloon weights equidistant down the center of the long table. I used them to keep the tablecloths from flapping in the wind or flying away altogether. “Saw it was Ellie Dorsey’s son’s party. ”

I frowned. “The grandmother did all the communicating with me. I didn’t realize.”

Before I could comment further, Mark grinned. “I don’t know if you remember, but she was in our grade. Star basketball player. Red hair. Ringing any bells?”

I whipped a paper plate at him like a Frisbee, and he laughed, catching it against his chest.

Grinning back, I asserted, “Yes, I remember Ellie.” We’d been on the debate team together. I didn’t realize she had a son though.

If Mark was back to giving me shit over forgetting high school classmates, then maybe this awkwardness over almost kissing wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps we were on the other side of it.

“I can’t believe Ellie has a five-year-old. That feels wild for someone our age.” I froze, realizing what I’d said, unsure how Mark would take it. He had a child who was at least a few years old.

But he didn’t react visibly or stiffen up the way I half expected. He just kept setting down cups decorated with apple-shaped polka dots at each place setting. “Yeah, I think her parents helped out a lot when her son was born.”

“Back in New York, my friends would have thought it was crazy to have a baby before you were thirty-five. They used to joke that I practically wanted to be a child bride.”

I didn’t know why but heat was creeping up my neck at the admission and how callous it sounded. It didn’t paint my friends—acquaintances and co-workers, really—in a very good light.

Mark looked up. “Were you engaged or something?”

It was one of the things that always made me feel out of place. People I’d interned with, or gone through graduate school alongside, could never understand why I wanted to start a family in the early stages of my career. After a while, I stopped telling people. It set me apart and made me feel like I didn’t fit in. The country bumpkin with rural inclinations showing through her dressed-up city-girl costume. In reality, I was probably lonely and desperate for a semblance of family and the constancy of a committed, monogamous relationship .

But dating was hard in the city without putting your expectations out there from the get-go. I hadn’t been in the market for a good time or something short-term.

That was part of the reason I’d been so disappointed by Emerson’s deception. I’d thought there was good potential for a future with him. I’d assumed we were going somewhere. He was nearly thirty-six years old, after all. Turned out he was interested in having kids, just not particularly committed to keeping his marriage vows.

I pushed away the disgust I still felt at my horrible judgment.

“No,” I said as I focused on my work and not on Mark watching me. “My friends just knew I wanted kids. There’s a five-year plan in my notebook and everything. A family is on there.”

When I risked a glance, Mark was frowning down at the stack of red napkins he held. I didn’t know what I could have said that had him making that face, but I really wanted to stop talking about this and stop thinking about how far behind I was on that five-year plan.

“We have ten more parties booked for the season,” I told Mark, moving over to decorate the final picnic table.

He moved with me, taking the other end of the tablecloth to spread it wide. “That’s really great.”

“It got me thinking about interest in educational tours and field trips for local schools. Depending on the grade level and group size, we could offer short, informative talks. You know, the life cycle of the apple, types of apples, bees and the importance of pollinators, that sort of thing. And then the kids could jump on the bounce pillow and pick apples to take home to their families.”

Mark had paused partway through my speech. Now, he rushed to smooth the edge of the plastic tablecloth down. “That would be a good plan to implement in the future. I imagine it’s too late to set something like that up this season, but maybe next year, if we find the right person interested in leading it.”

I nodded, but his words caused something to twist uncomfortably in my belly. I didn’t want someone else assuming the role of educator at the orchard. These strange proprietary feelings were unexpected. I was honestly jealous of this nameless, faceless person implementing my plan, which was just as irrational as it was ridiculous. I wouldn’t be here next year. Of course, it couldn’t be me. I was working the farm this season— now . It was selfish to want the role for myself when I knew I couldn’t keep it.

My gaze strayed to Mark, where he was placing the apple baskets at each child’s seat. His eyes found me watching him and he smiled, just one of his tiny, barely there grins that tilted the corners of his full lips.

Yeah, sometimes life wasn’t fair and you didn’t get what you wanted.

Feeling the need to get things back on the right track—the one to clearly labeled and boundary-inclusive Friendship Town—I cleared my throat. “Thanks for helping me set up for the party.”

He made an amused sound, and I spotted his even white teeth as his smile widened. “It’s sort of my job.”

“Your job doesn’t start for twenty more minutes,” I argued.

A blush washed his face in sudden color, and Candace from last Friday would have given just about anything to know what thoughts heated those scruffy cheeks.

But then I caught sight of my sister in the distance. She was driving the tractor and hauling the giant apple crate out into the north fields. Fuji was on the schedule for picking this week. Mark would be out there with her.

Time to steer this ship into safer waters. “I appreciate your help,” I said around a closed-mouth smile that doubled as a convenient shield. With my eyes carefully trained on his, I added, “You’re a good friend, Mark.”

At my words, he went utterly still. Mark watched me for a long moment before shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He nodded slowly. “Of course. Happy to help.”

We finished setup fifteen minutes later. I thanked Mark again and watched him head off the way Joan had gone to start his own workday.

I’d done the right thing by establishing a boundary.

Even if I was wrong and Mark and Joan weren’t together officially or openly or even at all, I didn’t want my time here in Kirby Falls to be filled with drama and bad decisions. I didn’t want the almost-kiss hanging over me like that—a fantasy, a daydream, a what-might-have-been .

Making it clear that we were back in friend territory was the safest way forward. He should know I was fine with that. There was no need to worry about me bringing it up. I wasn’t going to jump him or something, no matter how attracted I was to him.

I had no desire to fuck things up even more with Joan. I wanted to prove myself to my sister. Show her I was a helpful member of the team, a good worker, someone she could rely on. So, maybe eventually, Joan might stop resenting me for being here.

I came home to get myself together and out of trouble.

Not cause more.