6. Nate

6

NATE

I know Eden told me to wait until Tuesday, but I couldn't help myself. I go up to the third floor at the Morningside house. I scream like a child when I see the honey oozing out and around Eden's plug device. A bunch of bees fly around the place, super confused.

I almost wish they'd sting my eyes. I'd rather deal with that than have to call Kenneth in Manhattan—or whatever his name is—and tell him his investment property is oozing and infested.

Instead, I panic and call Eden. She seems eager to check things out, so maybe my curiosity paid off?

Eden's van slows outside, and I watch as she parallel parks, fitting into a space I wouldn't have even attempted. She's always so quietly excellent at everything.

She climbs out of the van all business, and my words fall away. I want to thank her for coming in the evening. I want to compliment her parking job. Instead, I gawk like a fool.

She approaches, smelling like honey and flowery shampoo. And maybe a little sweat. I like it.

"Hey," she says. "You mentioned a situation?"

"Oh." I scratch my head like the bumbling idiot I've become. "Yeah. I think you should take a look."

Eden tucks her bee veil under one arm.

I point at it. "How do you decide when to wear that thing?"

She smiles, like I've asked her the best question. I like knowing I said the right thing. "Bees are particular this time of day. They're trying to get back to their home, maybe stressing out about the pollen haul. I try to be extra careful if I think the wee folk will get jumpy."

"So just a veil is you being extra careful? If I see you in the full suit, I should run, right?"

She laughs and nods. "Show me this mess."

I guide her toward the house and through the plastic curtain I taped up to block the third floor. The guys and I got a lot of demo done today, so we both have to climb around a bunch of debris to get there.

"What did the owner say about splitting the honey?" She glances over her shoulder, dark eyes and dark hair illuminated by the orange glow of the sunset through the windows.

"God, you're gorgeous."

A wobbly laugh falls from Eden's lips. "I doubt that's what they said."

I wince. "Sorry. I just…" I shrug. "Look, I didn't tell the owner. He doesn't live in this state. All he cares about is meeting the deadline under budget. I don't even want the honey. You should take all of it and promise not to tell anyone where you got it." I blow a raspberry. "Now you know my deep, unprofessional secret."

She frowns. "Am I going to get cited for trespassing? Like, does the guy even know I'm here?" Her tone is harsher than I've ever heard from her, and my brows shoot toward my hairline. I watch as Eden regains her composure. "Sorry. Sorry. I don't want to lose my temper with you. Are you sure this is above board?"

I shift my weight from foot to foot. "Hey, I get it. I promise nobody is going to say anything about you taking honey from this property." I feel confident in this assertion; there's no universe where Kenneth The Jagoff will show up before Eden empties out this wall.

Eden purses her lips. "Well, I just remembered I never filed the permit paperwork to have my beehives at my house, so now you know my deep, unprofessional secret, too."

We smile at each other for a beat until she turns and continues up the stairs, giving me a terrific view of her toned legs and muscular calves above the work boots and slouched socks she wears with her shorts.

Eden peers into the sting-room. "Hey, girls. You lost?"

I stay behind in the doorway and watch as she rips the plastic off one of the windows. A few seconds later, the remaining bees fly out the window into the darkening sky.

"I should have thought of that," I confess. "But you said to limit their access."

"They would have found a way out eventually. They're searching for the queen. Gosh, I hope they didn't incubate a new one in there since I left." Eden scurries to the hole in the wall, prying off her device and peering inside. "Do you have a flashlight?"

I step toward her, pulling the pen light from one of my pockets and handing it over, loving the warm connection when my fingers touch her palm. She clicks on the light and presses her face into the hole in the wall, ignoring the honey mess. "Whew," she says, handing me the light. "Doesn't seem like there's much activity. I think the honey seepage is from the heat."

I take the pen light from her hand, swallowing. Eden taps her bee plug into place. It's the size of one of Sparky's palms, with a tube-like protrusion, and Eden uses a little beeswax to hold it in place. "I think I should get started on this wall before any more of the wax melts. Tomorrow?"

"Okay." My words come slowly. I'm so distracted by how beautiful she is, how calmly she's handling this unexpected construction snafu. How badly I want to try again to be with her. I think I stun both of us when I blurt out, "I'd like to take you on a date after all this."

Eden blinks. She sags against the wall, not caring that it's dirty and sticky and… God, I need to not think about a dirty, sticky Eden and how she'll get clean.

"Nate," she whispers, shaking her head. "I need this to be professional. This is my job."

Heat rushes through my neck and behind my ears. "Of course. I'm sorry. I had no business asking."

Eden seems like she wants to talk about it, though. She twirls some brown hair around a finger and her shoulders lower. "My mom just showed up out of freaking nowhere. And my sister is moving out. Honestly, I'm really glad you're letting me have the honey, because I need the money. Ugh, I'm rambl—Oh!"

I step back, giving her space, not sure what made her exclaim this time. I search for a spider or stray bee or something.

She reaches for her phone. "I should call Dr. Shultz about the wall. She's my mentor. Sort of."

"Mentor?"

Eden nods. "I did take classes at the college extension program. But most of what I know I learned from Marsha Shultz. She will know if the colony is fully gone, and we can move ahead with the harvest. She's been urging me to make weed honey for higher profit margins. Honestly, I think I will try a CBD salve with the beeswax." Eden glances at her phone. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"I don't mind." And it's true. The guys on my crew are men of few words, and apart from the hour a week I visit the grief group, I don't really get to talk to anyone. Until Eden started talking about her mentor, I didn't even realize how much I missed just hearing people yack. My dad was a talker. He used to recap our days over dinner at our house, like I didn't spend the whole time with him and live it all myself. My brows raise almost to my hairline. I am utterly charmed by this word vomit.

Eden blows out a breath. "Well… Marsha sells her stuff by word-of-mouth. It's just a side hustle for her. I'd like to sell in bulk to, like, restaurants, you know? And find a consignment arrangement for the cosmetic stuff. I'm not cut out for weekly markets."

"I can see where a wholesale model would be easier," I add, proud I could pull the word wholesale from my muddled mind.

Eden hums in agreement and heads toward the stairs. "I'm going to see if Marsha can meet me here in the morning before she goes to work. Be ready—she's a talker."

"‘Cause you're the silent type?" I hope it's okay to tease her, and I'm relieved when Eden smiles—a real, all-the-way-to-her-eyes grin I can just make out from the streetlight through the front windows.

"See you in the morning." She climbs into her van, and when she's out of sight, I sink to the curb, elbows on my knees and head in my hands. I've always had a sweet tooth, and I'm starting to crave Eden Storm.