Both men offered me their hands and mumbled something that sounded as though they were pleased to meet me. I tried to smile and not let the awkwardness make me shuffle my feet like a kid.
When Larry went in the back for the blade, Billy turned to me. “So what’s a pretty lady like you doing with this sorry son of a—uh, gun? If you’re lookin’ for a date around here, I can set you up.”
Sam’s fingers gripped my hand a little harder. “Mind your own damn business, Billy.”
“Hey, Sam.” Larry stuck his head out of the storeroom. “Can you come back here for a minute? I want to make sure I pull the right blade.”
Releasing my hand, Sam ducked behind the counter and disappeared into the back. Billy turned to me, lowering his voice.
“Let me tell you something, missy. That boy there? He’s the genuine article. Not a better man in this town. Lots of boys would have sold out and left after what happened to his parents, but he didn’t. I’ve never known a harder worker in all my years, and that’s the truth.”
Sam and Larry came back up front, Sam glancing suspiciously at Billy. “What kind of tall tales are you spinning for Meghan?”
He shook his head. “Never you mind. Just givin’ your girl the real deal on things around here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He slanted me a look. “Don’t believe a word he says.”
Sam paid, and we left, darting through the rain. As I climbed back into the truck, he caught me around the waist and turned me back to face him, perched on the edge of the seat, protected from the weather.
“What did Billy say to you?”
I cast my eyes up as though trying to remember. “Oh, he said you’re a horrible flirt, and you have a new girl in town with you every week.”
“Yeah?” He leaned into me, his body between my knees. “And did you buy his stories?”
“I don’t know. You seem pretty smooth.”
Sam snorted. “Okay.” He kissed me. “Whatever you say.”
I scooted over to the middle of the seat. As we drove out of town, I snuggled closer to him. A part of my brain was screaming for me to remember that this was temporary. It couldn’t last.
I ignored that voice. I planned to enjoy this man and whatever was between us for as long as I could.
OUR FARM HAD BEEN in the family for more generations than I knew, and over the years, there’d been some changes in how we did things. We didn’t use a horse to pull the plow anymore, much to my niece’s disappointment. We’d gone from not using any fertilizers or insecticides in the nineteenth century to using all of them in the twentieth to switching over to only natural help in the twenty-first century. I used the same almanac to tell me when to plant and when to harvest, but mine wasn’t a paperback book; it was on my cell phone.
But over a hundred and fifty years later, one thing hadn’t changed. We were still completely at the mercy of the weather and unable to do a damn thing to change it.
Two nights after Meghan and I had our night down at the river, a front came up along the Florida coast, a hurricane that never developed, and it stalled over eastern Georgia. We had days and days of torrential rain. I was stuck in the house most of the time; I went over to the stand each day, but business was slow there, since only the most stalwart souls ventured out in this weather to buy fruit and vegetables from a stand instead of a grocery store. I spent more of my time planning for harvest and for next year’s crops.
“I don’t mind a day or two of rain, but this is ridiculous.” I sat on the porch with Meghan after dinner. The steady patter on the roof had been cozy the first few nights, but now it just pissed me off.
“I know. I was supposed to take the kids out to a few places around town to do sketches, and we have to keep putting it off. They’re all restless during class, too. I can’t imagine how you’re holding it together.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She smiled at me, unfazed. “It means you’re a man who needs to be outside. You thrive on walking in those fields and being with your plants. You’re kind of like a caged lion when you have to be inside for too long.”
“Hmm.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I like the lion part, but I’m not sure about the rest.”
“You can be not sure, but it’s true.” She laid down her drawing tablet and pencil and scooted closer to me on the wicker love seat. “Are you missing anything else, maybe?”
“What else would I be missing?” I played dumb, mostly because she was right that I was being antsy inside, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about her knowing me that well.