by Rexi Lake
“Is the front counter stocked and ready?” she asked Lola, coming back into the kitchen. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she walked toward the big sink. She washed her hands and then went to where Lola was loading pies onto a tray.
“These need to go in the oven, and then we need to box up some slices for the front. Everything else is set to go!”
“Here, let me take those,” Olivia said, picking up the heavy tray and putting the pies into the empty oven. “I’ll let you time them though,” she added with a wink. For some reason, she still kept screwing that up on the pies. She’d nailed the cookies with Tucker, but pies still escaped her.
Lola laughed. “You’ll get it eventually,” she said.
Olivia glanced at her coworker. She raised a brow and Lola shrugged. She was pretty sure neither of them had any real confidence in that.
The morning passed quickly, their downtime between breakfast and lunch was short-lived as a small busload of people came in just as they finished restocking the counter and wiping the tables. By the end of the day, Olivia’s feet were aching more than she remembered them doing on the first day.
She was sitting in one of the chairs after wiping down the last table for the fifth time that day when the door opened again. She looked up, ready to stand up and ask what they wanted. But instead, she relaxed back and smiled.
“Rough day?” Tucker asked, sitting down across from her.
“Busy!” Lola called as she walked out with another load of pre-boxed pie slices.
“Do you have any whole pies left, Lola?” Tucker asked.
“Sure do, Tuck. Want one for your mom?”
“Yes, please. She’s been asking me to bring her one since I forgot the last time.”
“Oh, that’s right! You didn’t get one on the last delivery.” Olivia’s mouth twisted guiltily. “That’s probably my fault, huh?” she asked.
“It is,” Tucker answered solemnly.
Olivia’s face dropped and she looked down.
Tucker reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her gaze back up to his. Then he added, “Which is why I’ve been tasked with bringing home a whole pie and the girl who distracted me.”
Her eyes widened. “What?” she squeaked.
He laughed. “Oh, yes. I got an earful about not bringing her pie or her tabloids. I didn’t have any choice but to lay the blame squarely on your shoulders.”
Her eyes grew bigger. “But, I didn’t - I mean, it wasn’t -” she stumbled over her words.
“Calm down, Red,” he reassured her. “All I said was I got distracted by a pretty face and a sweet girl who needed some help.”
“That’s all?” Olivia looked doubtfully at him.
“That’s all. She took it from there and made her own interpretations.” He shrugged and smiled at her.
“Meet your mother?” Olivia asked. She looked down at her clothes. Then she looked around her. “I have to work though,” she said, grasping at the lifeline that was barely there.
“Oh, Livy, don’t worry about that. You go on with Tucker. We’ll just swap your late shift today with your one for tomorrow,” Lola said, adding her opinion.
When Olivia looked over at the other redhead, she found herself stuck. Lola was grinning at her like a Cheshire cat. And Tucker was looking at her with an earnestness she hadn’t expected from him.
She bit her lip. “Can I at least change my clothes?” she asked, giving in to the inevitable.
“Absolutely!” Tucker agreed. He grinned and stood up. “You go grab your stuff and I’ll get my pie from Lola.”
“Okay.” Olivia stood too and went behind the counter. She paused. “Are you sure, Lola? It’s been a busy day here.”
“Honey, we were busy before you were hired too. We can handle it with a slightly smaller crew tonight,” Lola assured her. “Go, meet Tucker’s mom. She’s one of the sweetest women you’ll ever meet. I promise, you’ll enjoy yourself.”
Lola shooed her along and Olivia went. She grabbed her bag and by the time she returned to the front, Tucker had a pie and a cider to go.
“We’ll drop the pie in the truck and then walk to your place,” he said, holding the door for her.
She nodded, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t until her apartment door closed that he stopped her.
“If you don’t want to come, you can say so,” he said.
“It’s not that, exactly,” Olivia hedged. She dropped her purse on the counter and toed off her shoes. “I just,” she paused, unsure about her words. Instead, she shook her head and pulled the ponytail out of her hair as she walked to the bedroom.
“Just what?” Tucker asked, frowning as he followed her back.
“I’ve never met someone’s mother before,” she mumbled, her hands pushing at the articles of clothing she had hanging in her closet. There was nothing that looked right. What did one wear to meet a mother? A dress? Or was that too formal? Jeans? No, not formal enough. Right? She frowned harder.
“Hey,” Tucker pulled her around. She hadn’t even heard him come into the room. “It’s not something you need to worry about. My mother is a sweet woman with a love of tabloid gossip and cooking in her kitchen. She is not an intimidating type. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s about the same height as you, so there’s nothing to fear.”
Olivia stared at him and waited for the rest. Surely there was more to this. Right? Wasn’t meeting someone’s parents a big deal?
“What if she doesn’t like me?” she asked when he didn’t continue speaking.
He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly, sighing into the comfort of his strong hold on her. He tucked her head beneath his chin and she rested her cheek against his chest. The steady thump of his heart helped soothe her. But it still didn’t alleviate her worries.
“What am I supposed to wear?” she asked.
“That depends,” Tucker answered, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Do you want to see the orchards and some of the operations at the farm? Or do you want to stick around the main house? Jeans are fine for either, but you may want some shoes you don’t mind getting dirty if we go traipsing about.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. Jeans didn’t sound right. She was pretty sure that was too casual. Right? Or maybe not. It was a working farm, not a dinner downtown. She groaned and twisted her head to rest her forehead on his chest. “Why is this so difficult?”
He chuckled. “I don’t know. Because you’re overthinking it a bit?” he suggested.
She grimaced. He was probably right. Sighing, she lifted her head and pulled away from him. “Okay, go wait in the other room while I get dressed.”
He raised a brow, but dutifully turned around and went out of the bedroom.
Chapter Fifteen
“Welcome!” Lila Hart greeted Olivia as Tucker helped her down from the truck.
“Mom,” he muttered, rolling his eyes skyward. He guided Olivia up the steps to the spacious front porch where his mother stood.
“What?” she looked at him, her arms crossing over her chest. “It’s perfectly acceptable to greet guests that way.”
“Yes, but maybe tone it down so you don’t scare her away,” Tucker suggested. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. One hand he kept at the small of Olivia’s back. “Olivia, this is my mother, Lila Hart. Mom, this is Olivia.” He introduced them.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so happy you came up to visit. Tucker hasn’t said much, but I can see that he’s taken with you.” Lila was smiling broadly as she spoke, oblivious to the look Tucker was sending her. “You are just stunning in person, Olivia. I’m sure Tuck told you that I love my tabloids, so I’ve seen your picture of course, but those just don’t do you justice at all.”
“How about we go inside and sit down?” Tucker suggested, breaking into the small space of silence as his mother took a breath.
“Oh! Yes, let’s do that. Do you like apple tea?” she asked Olivia.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a
pple tea,” Olivia answered. The exuberant woman hadn’t left her much room to speak yet, but Tucker could see her cheeks reddened from his mother’s fervent speech.
“You’ll love it,” he promised her, gesturing to his mother to precede them into the house. “Mom makes the best apple sweet tea.”
“Oh, hush. I think I make the only apple sweet tea,” Lila said. She led them back into the kitchen, gesturing for them to take a seat at the table while she grabbed glasses from a cupboard.
Tucker held a chair out for Olivia, then he grabbed the pitcher from the fridge and brought it to the table.
“Thank you, Tucker,” Lila said as she set the glasses, now filled with ice, on the table. “Your father is stuck out in the back orchard. Apparently those high winds we had knocked one of the big limbs down.”
“Does he need help?” Tucker asked, frowning.
“No, no. He’s already got help from some of the men. But he wanted to oversee it. You know your father.” Lila turned to Olivia and smiled. “Steven is a very driven type of personality. He likes to make sure everything is just the right way around here. I had to get him to promise me that the house was my domain and he wouldn’t try to change my things around when we first got married. That man tried to tell me how to fold a towel! Can you imagine?” She laughed.
Tucker grinned and he looked to Olivia. “Mom likes to remind him of that when he starts trying to rearrange her kitchen.”
“I never considered that there could be more than one way to fold a towel,” Olivia said, smiling but hesitant.
Lila chuckled. “Oh, there’s plenty of ways to do it, but with my Steven, there’s a million wrong ways and only one right way - his way.” She shook her head. “But he’s a good man, flaws and all. And that’s who I fell in love with, heaven help me some days.”
Olivia took a sip of the iced tea and let out a startled, “Oh!” She took another, longer sip. “This is delicious,” she said. “I’ve never tasted anything so fresh. It’s like drinking an apple.”
Tucker chuckled. He wrapped an arm around Olivia’s shoulders and felt her lean against him. He could tell she was nervous. But at least it seemed like she was enjoying herself. He had half expected her to back out on him before they reached the farm. But despite how much quieter she got as they approached his home, she hadn’t changed her mind.
Her hands slipped below the table and he caught a brief glimpse of her clasping them tightly in her lap. He reached his free hand over and settled it over her tightly laced fingers. Rubbing gently, she slowly relaxed them for him.
She looked up at him.
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. She had those bright green eyes that he liked to see sparking with fire, glassy with passion, and narrowed with interest. He wondered just what other expressions she revealed with them too. The one he’d learned he couldn’t stand to see was the tear-filled sadness and worry. That he would do anything to avoid again. He only hoped he could help her continue to find the fun and enjoyment in the normal kind of life she was still learning.
“Enough about me and Steven,” Lila said, breaking their focus on each other. “Olivia, why don’t you tell me a little about you. The real you, of course, since I’m sure those tabloids are little more than fictional tales created by bored and jealous people.”
“Um. What do you want to know?” Olivia asked. Tucker felt her hands tighten again in his grasp.
“Well, how about your favorite color? Or perhaps your favorite thing to eat?” Lila took a sip of her tea and smiled, patiently waiting.
“Oh.” Olivia hesitated at first. “Well, I guess my favorite color is blue. The really dark shade like when the sun sets and the moon is rising, just before the sky becomes black.”
“That’s a lovely description, my dear.”
Olivia’s cheeks turned pink, but Tucker saw the pleasure behind the tinge of embarrassment. “Thank you.”
For the next half hour, Tucker watched as his mother asked Olivia question after question. Some were completely inane, while others he knew were designed to dig deeper into who she was. He rolled his eyes at some, and ignored the little glances she sent his way in response. Slowly, Olivia relaxed and started to do more than simply answer the questions. She started to talk.
By the time the oven timer went off and Lila stood to take care of the food, the tension had relaxed noticeably. “I don’t know how quickly Steven will be in, so we can eat whenever you two are hungry. I made a lasagna for us.”
“Are you hungry now or would you like a little tour first?” Tucker asked Olivia.
“I’m not very hungry yet. I ate a late lunch when I thought I still had to work through dinner,” she admitted softly.
“Mom, I’m going to take Olivia on a little tour. We can wait for Dad to get in to eat. Or if he’s not back by the time we come back in, then we’ll just keep a plate warm.”
“That sounds like a good idea, Tucker. You two enjoy the fresh air while it’s still warm out. Winter will be here before we know it!” Lila smiled at them as she pushed the lasagna back into the oven and reset the timer.
Tucker stood and pulled Olivia’s chair out for her. “Come on, Red.”
She took his hand and he led her from the house.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked when they were outside.
“I thought she was going to ask me what names I gave my dolls when I was three next!” Olivia said, laughing a little.
He grinned. “She just wants to get to know you. I promise.”
“She seems very nice,” Olivia agreed. “I bet it was great to have a mother like her growing up.”
“It was,” he agreed. He looked and saw the slight wistfulness in her eyes. “Would you like to know a secret?” he asked, changing the subject.
She looked at him quizzically. “Sure.”
“When I’m not delivering apples to the city, I’m working on a new product line for us.” He directed their steps toward the building he used for the wine and beer samples he was still perfecting. He opened the door and ushered her inside. “This is my work space,” he told her, flipping on the lights.
“Wow,” she murmured, moving ahead of him to look around. “You’re making wine?” she asked, looking back at him.
“I’m trying,” he said, chuckling. “It’s a work in progress still.”
“I didn’t think you guys did anything but apples and cider,” she said.
“We don’t. At least, not at the moment. But there’s no reason we couldn’t expand if we found the right market to expand into.” He shrugged. “It’s still very much in the beginning stages. I haven’t figured out a recipe that works yet.”
He couldn’t help but feel a little pleased by her response. She was looking at the equipment with interest and at the bottles lined up on the far wall. The Hart Farms logo was on the top of the label design, with a stylized font below that read Hart Wines. He’d been working on that for a little while too, in between recipes. It wasn’t final yet either, but he felt like he was getting closer to that then he was the wine.
“I’ve tried a few different things, but there’s still something missing.” He shrugged. Eventually he’d either figure it out or he’d have to tell his father he failed. He was hoping for the former, because the latter did not sound appealing at all.
“What was it you told me about baking? It’s science and math with emotion mixed in?” She looked back at him. “Maybe you have the wrong balance?”
He grinned and cocked a brow at her. Leaning against the wall behind him, he said, “Well, look who was paying attention in class.”
She smirked, walking over to him with a slow but purposeful stride. “I had a very good teacher,” she said when she reached him.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “A really good teacher, huh?”
“Mmmhmm,” she responded, leaning into him.
“Baby, you let me take this any farther and I’ll need to sanitize this place before I can work in
it again,” he warned.
“Is there anything else you wanted to show me?” she asked, leaning back from him. “Because if your mom asks me what I thought of the place, I don’t know if I can be completely convincing about it.” She bit her lip and winked at him as her fingers stroked along the waist of his jeans.
“Baby, you’re playing with fire,” he said, catching hold of her hands.
“You’re right,” she said. She took a breath and tried to pull back. “We shouldn’t be doing this when we’re supposed to have dinner with your parents soon.”
He held her hands fast, refusing to let her pull away too far. “That’s true,” he murmured. “But I know a place we could go where you might feel more comfortable.”
She looked at him skeptically. “Where’s that?” she asked.
“Do you trust me?”
Chapter Sixteen
She bit her lip, wondering just how far she did trust him. Slowly, she nodded. Something about Tucker Hart had gotten under her skin and past the armor she wore around her heart. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her believe, but she did. She believed in herself when she was with him.
Her hand felt small in his as he pulled her from the large building and his secret project. She followed him down a small dirt path that led around a small stand of trees. They weren’t apple trees, but she could see there were fruits on them too. A smaller house came into view. It wasn’t as ornate looking as the home his parents had. But it looked comfortable and homey.
“Is this your place?” she asked as they walked up the steps to the porch.
“It is,” he answered, opening the door. “I thought you might be more comfortable if we just relaxed a little before we went to dinner.”
“Relax?” she asked, raising a brow at him briefly.
He chuckled.
