by Marina Adair
“Noted, but it doesn’t help me now.”
Luke set his fork down. “We have to harvest the north orchard and load the golden delicious today or we’ll miss our delivery window for the market. I can’t do that with half a crew!”
Doing it with a full crew would be tight. During harvest it always was. From first apple picked until that last truck pulled out, it was a nonstop grind from September through the end of November. Six days a week, twelve hours a day. Missing even a few hours could create a snowball that would affect deliveries, timelines, and even the product.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I got on the phone, called everyone who was a no-show to see what was up. Most went to voice mail; a few said they’d be late, personal reasons. And Frank, oh man, Frank.” Hawk let out a sigh that was utterly defeated and that bad feeling Luke had went nuclear. “The guy was stupid enough to admit he was helping with the town’s pie raising, whatever the hell that is.”
Luke ran a hand down his face. “It’s code for Let’s Fuck with Luke’s day.” Because although Luke was well liked around town, his mom was as beloved as apple pie. So if she was backing a cause, then people were going to stand in line to help. Even if it meant his life just got a whole lot more complicated.
“Language,” Paula whispered as if Jesus himself were coming to breakfast.
But Luke didn’t have time even to think about filtering, because Kennedy’s plan was working. He had trucks scheduled to pick up last week’s harvest of Honeycrisp and Granny Smith, more than an acre yet to harvest, and if he didn’t make the meeting with Jason, then he wouldn’t know if he even had a valid backup plan.
There wasn’t time for another delay.
Missing that appointment with Jason meant there was a good chance he’d have to wait another few days to arrange a meeting. But getting behind on the harvest, leaving long-standing customers hanging, wasn’t an option.
He wanted this deal with Rogers to happen, but not at the risk of his existing customer base.
Luke released a breath. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Standing, he set his plate in the sink and looked at his mother until she finally faced him. “Want to tell me about the pie raising?”
Paula clapped her hands. “It’s genius really. Like a barn raising, only with pies instead of boards. And in the Destiny Bay tradition of bigheartedness, the whole town’s turned out in support.”
Chapter 9
It was official: Luke was screwed.
And not in the way he’d first imagined when he’d seen Kennedy skirting around his mom’s shop in that apron and challenging smile. She’d been all fire and sass, and now he was seeing how hot she could burn.
The farther down the dirt road he drove and the closer to the south orchard he got, the more his admiration—and irritation—for Kennedy grew. Admiration because the woman was as creative as she was sexy. It was coming on ten in the morning, and there already had to be a few dozen people in the orchards carrying red baskets, courtesy of the home and garden store in town.
Most of the volunteers had on orthopedics and dentures, and came from one of the three senior center buses parked along the road. But they weren’t to be underestimated. Destiny Bay was home to more war heroes than the House of Representatives, and held the state record for fastest pickers in the over sixty category. Based on the crowd, which spread from the cottage all the way to the PICK A BASKET WIN A PIE sign hanging from the front porch railing, Kennedy would have a good tenth of her apples harvested by the end of the day.
Prepped and stored by the end of next week.
That was where the irritation came in. Once they were prepped, they were out of play for cider. Not to mention, he had a pickup scheduled for a few thousands pounds of apples later that afternoon, and only half the crew he needed to harvest them. So with every basket for Kennedy picked came the very really possibility that Luke might have to admit failure.
And Luke didn’t do failure.
He parked his truck, hopped out, and made his way through the grove, knowing he had about ten seconds to come up with a new plan. One which included getting his guys focused and back to work—on the right side of the orchard.
Only as luck would have it, one glimpse at the event’s host and Luke had a hard time deciding which side was right.
Kennedy wasn’t only strapped into his mom’s old harness, she’d figured out how to use it and was all the way up one of the trees, participating in a picking race against one of his fastest guys. People had gathered around and, based on the cheers, were not rooting for the home team.
Sometime between the Apple Festival and today, Little Miss Big City had become the town’s golden child. A title Luke used to hold.
Oh, she wasn’t any good at apple picking and she wasn’t in the lead, not by a long shot. She was too short to use the ladder, so she’d opted to climb the damn tree, and was struggling to navigate the branches under the weight of the apples and canvas bag. In her defense, the bag was pretty heavy. And half her size. But it didn’t matter. She was in nothing more than a harness, a flannel shirt that tied around her curvy waist, and a pair of denim shorts that were soft, snug, and a sight to behold.
And apple red tennies.
Half the guys stood at the bottom of the tree, looking their fill at all that the newest apple picker had to offer The other half were waiting for her to lose her footing so they could catch her—and behold every single inch of her bombshell body. Not that they would get the chance.
Kennedy was wrestling the tree with enough pluck to give his Aunt Fi a run for her money in the stubbornest woman department. She reached out, picked an apple, dropped it in the bag, and moved on to the next. She was quite determined about it, too.
Even though she obviously had an issue with heights. He could tell by the way she avoided looking at the ground and closed her eyes every time she slipped the apple in her bag. But she didn’t let it slow her progress.
Nope, Kennedy used her fear to drive her. Which meant, scared or not, she wasn’t going to come down until she had won—or the race was over.
Taking a moment to enjoy the view himself, Luke walked over to the baked goods table. Where he found Hawk, dressed in a red apron, passing out pies and manning the booth like this was the annual St. Peter’s Christmas Bake Sale and he was Sister Mary Catherine.
Hawk handed a piece of pie to Ms. Sharpe in exchange for a basket of apples. The shit of it was, Ms. Sharpe also handed over a crisp bill and smiled. She’d been the principal at the local school since Destiny Bay was built, and never once had Luke even heard of her smiling.
Hawk took the money, all grins and customer service like he wasn’t giving away their future. Then helped the next customer in line.
“What the hell, man?” Luke said when he got to the front of the line.
Hawk picked up the next plate, which was sitting with a few dozen others, gave it a dollop of whipped cream, then took a big bite. “Thank God you’re here,” he said, licking his fingers.
“Yeah, it seems I came just in time to watch you enjoy your pie,” Luke said. “And you said she had me by the nuts!”
Hawk looked over Luke’s shoulder and gave a respectful wave—at Ms. Sharpe, who was eyeing them suspiciously—then leaned in. “I came down to tell the guys to get back to work and Ms. Sharpe cornered me. Said that stealing a woman’s crew was about as low as one could get. Even worse than the time I drew boobies on the cheerleading team’s photo in the hallway.”
Luke glanced around, feeling like he was twelve again, and hiding behind the trophy cabinet with Hawk, waiting for Ms. Sharpe to go back to her office. “She knows it was us?”
“That woman knows everything. And walker or not, she still scares the shit out of me.”
Luke couldn’t fault the guy. It didn’t matter that he was six-three and two-twenty, Ms. Sharpe had a threat factor that defied size. “Did you explain that Kennedy stole our crew?”
Hawk scoffed. “Yeah, but th
en she just gave me that look. You know the one she gets?” Luke knew that look well. Had been on the receiving end of it a time or two growing up. “Well, she gave me that look, then said how nice it was that I showed up in support of Destiny Bay’s newest resident. And before I knew it, I was wearing this apron and handing out pies.”
“You should be in the north orchard, picking the Honeycrisp apples that are being shipped out in”—Luke looked at his watch—“about four hours.”
Hawk looked at the crowd by the tree. “Our crew is there, man. All of them came down to see what was going on. We could hear the cheering over the tractors.”
Luke watched as Kennedy made it up to a higher branch, her bare legs scraping against the leaves as she went. And he couldn’t help admiring her effort—or the way the bottom of her shorts crept up her thighs, in one of those inch for an inch kind of situations that had him matching her inch for inch.
Her face was flushed with the morning chill, her nose a little pink, and her normal sculpted bun was a scattered mess, windblown and attracting more than a few loose twigs and leaves.
She was a mess. A spectacular mess.
“We’re totally screwed, aren’t we?” Hawk asked.
And because Luke didn’t believe in lying, he said, “Yup,” then turned and reached for a piece of pie. Ignoring the whipped cream because he liked his deep dish straight up, he forked off a bite and—
“Hey!” a female voice yelled.
Hawk jumped as if Ms. Sharpe was headed their way with the ruler. And Luke, first bite halfway to his mouth, slowly turned to see Kennedy glaring down at him. She was straddling a branch, her hands gripping the trunk so hard he was sure she was going to go home with splinters.
“That pie is for participants only,” she hollered, all that earlier nervousness replaced with indignation.
Even though today was shaping up to be complete crap, Luke found himself smiling as he walked slowly over to the tree. He glanced at every guy on his crew, who wisely took a large step back, then he looked up at Kennedy. Who in her current position, directly above him, was giving him a pretty fan-fucking-tastic view. The woman might be petite, but she was all tanned legs and sculpted thighs.
If Luke stepped a little to the left—yup, just like that—he had an even better view up her shirt. Though as always, she’d knotted it good and tight. So tight it caused the bottom buttons to pucker, leaving a perfect-sized gap for him to gape his fill.
White lace today.
Nothing overly sexual, but on her it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Why don’t I participate by helping you down,” he offered, and to take her mind off the fact that she was fifteen feet up—in a tree—Luke took a big, heaping bite of her pie, letting the fork glide out extra slow.
As he’d hoped, her gaze went frosty, then she frowned, becoming pissy and irritated, and looking sexier than any woman covered in twigs and tree sap had the right to look.
“I can’t afford your help. Plus first up, last down.” She let go of the trunk with one hand to point to the sign taped to the front of the booth that said, FIRST UP, LAST DOWN. COME CHALLENGE THE NEWEST APPLE PICKER IN TOWN, and then she lost her grip.
“Whoa,” Luke said, his hands going out to catch her.
Only she caught herself. Her eyes wide and dilated, her hands shook with what Luke knew was adrenaline overload and exhaustion, but she managed to save herself from what could have been a pretty spectacular fall. Something he took to heart.
He softened his voice. “You okay?”
“Yup, strapped in.” With extreme caution, she tugged her harness. “Thanks for asking.”
Now that he was close enough to notice the little lacerations and scratches marring her silky skin, he wished he had asked earlier. Because it wasn’t satisfaction he felt seeing her city girl sass up a tree, plucking apples. It was something a whole hell of a lot deeper.
In the short time that he’d known Kennedy, she’d challenged him, frustrated him, annoyed him, turned him on even. Only now she had him concerned—for her.
Luke had enough people to worry about in his life. It was why he always kept things light with women. But this wasn’t any woman; this woman drove him insane.
Crazy as that sounded, he found himself growing addicted.
“Plus, I only have my guys for another two hours—”
“My guys,” he clarified. “And you don’t have them that long—”
“Once the pie runs out, they get to leave. That was the deal.”
“Hold up.” Luke put his hands on his hips, then took his time eyeballing his crew. “Are you telling me that the crew who charges me a small fortune every day is picking your apples for free?”
A lot of grumbling sounded, followed by twenty very smart, very wise pickers, depositing their apples at the table and grabbing their tools.
“Hey, where are you going?” When no one answered, just kept walking, she looked at Luke. “Where are they going? They can’t leave. There is still pie on the table.”
“If they want their jobs come tomorrow, they can. And they will. Heading back to the north orchard, which is where they were supposed to be before someone sweet-talked them into walking off the job,” he said, and she had the decency to look a tad bit ashamed.
“I’m sorry I upset your schedule,” she said, but he had a hard time hearing the apology through her smiling. “Finding pickers is hard during harvest. Very competitive.”
“So I’ve been told,” he mused. “And even though I’d love to stand here and talk shop, I have a rig coming to pick up some apples. Which are still attached to those trees over there. And since they don’t pick themselves, my guys need to go back to work.”
“But I still have so many apples left,” she said, and something about her tone had him shifting in his boots.
“You still have a few dozen volunteers here who can pick the lower-hanging fruit, free of charge.” They had usable hands—and canes to bat at the fruit if necessary. “That should get you through next week.”
“Nothing is for free,” she said with so much acceptance, Luke’s heart rolled over and showed its soft underbelly. Because with that one statement, understanding bloomed in his chest, and it added another emotion to the running list—soul-deep compassion.
In Luke’s life, there had been some struggle, and even more opportunity, and throughout it all, he’d been given so many things without expectation of a return: amazing memories, friendship, loyalty, laughter—and love.
Luke got the impression that Kennedy hadn’t had much of any of that growing up. Which made her determined outlook all the more impressive.
“They’re getting paid in pie,” she said proudly.
And damn it, she had every right to feel that.
He’d delivered her an obstacle of epic proportions, yet she’d managed to figure out a solution. On her own terms. In no time flat.
Kennedy wasn’t looking for a handout, and she certainly wasn’t looking to start a war. She just wanted a chance, and Luke couldn’t fault her for that.
He also couldn’t stand around watching his guys screw off. Not if he wanted to make today’s delivery.
He looked at his watch; it was nine forty. With a deep breath, he did something he’d never done before.
He helped the competition.
“I’ll give you my crew until the top of the hour, then my guys go back to work, and you figure out the rest of the apples yourself. From the ground,” he added.
Kennedy opened her mouth to argue—or maybe to ask what the catch was—then closed it. She eyed her troops, retreating to join the other side, and the remaining apples, and he could almost see her making mental calculations. “Your whole crew?”
“Yup. For twenty minutes.”
No doubt, Hawk was calling him all kinds of pussy. But Luke knew a lot about strong, stubborn women. He’d been raised by two. And Kennedy was going to get her apples, even if it meant being carted away in an ambulance for taking
an impact from twenty feet up.
“Deal,” she said, reaching for an apple.
“Oh, no,” Luke said. “You got to come down and shake on it, sweetness.”
With a satisfied smile, she slowly began to make her way down the tree, hugging it for dear life a time or two, and giving him a heart attack when she almost slipped. But sexy and capable, the woman used her small size to her benefit and scooted her way down.
When those blinding tennis shoes finally touched the ground, he released a pent-up breath.
“Your whole crew for twenty minutes?” She stuck her hand out.
“And you retire the harness.”
She must have liked what he’d come up with, because she accepted way too fast. “Deal.”
Those sparkling blue pools zeroed in on Luke, and she released a smile that left him feeling unsettled—in more ways than one. It was determined, calculating, and a hundred percent trouble.
She shook his hand. And while his head was telling him that he was too busy, his dick was too focused on how soft and elegant her fingers were to protest.
Kennedy slipped the bag off her shoulder, the pink harness he’d taken from his mom’s garage off her arms, then made a big deal about unhooking it and sliding it all the way down her body.
Placing a steadying hand on his chest, she glided it off one foot, then the next. Finally, she leaned in to whisper, “Strap in, crew leader, it’s a long fall.”
* * *
The sun was long gone by the time the trucks were loaded and headed toward their respective drop-off points. Luke slowly made his way toward his pickup, the night’s dew dampening his boots and the hem of his jeans. He was sore, bone tired, and ready for a hot shower and a cold beer.
The crew managed to fill the orders and harvest an acre of Honeycrisps in the north orchard. It was going to cost Luke a small fortune in overtime, but they were back on schedule and that was what was important. He’d even managed to clear out his in-box, prep for tomorrow’s pick, and make a good dent in the mountain of paperwork on his desk.
