Something About You

by Bridget Anderson

  Before he walked away Kyla asked, “What are we low on?”

  Ben looked back at the tables with baskets of fruits and vegetables. “Tomatoes. Those are always the first to go.”

  “Okay.” Kyla turned back to Miles. “You did say you wanted to shadow me, right?”

  Miles rubbed his palms together and smiled. “That’s right. I’m all yours.”

  “Ben, would you get us a couple of large containers? We’re going to pick some tomatoes.”

  As Ben walked away, Miles glanced around with a confused expression on his face. “I thought this barn was open for locals to come pick their own vegetables?”

  “Oh, it is. However, we always have a fair amount already picked for those who choose not to go out into the fields.” She noticed a slight drop in Miles’s shoulders.

  “I see.” Miles took a deep breath and licked his lips. “So, you’re sending me back out into the fields?”

  “Yep,” Kyla said with a smile. “That’s what hands-on experience is all about.”

  Ben returned with two large blue containers. Kyla knew it was a bit much to ask of Miles, but shadowing her meant he’d have to work. She took one of the containers from Ben and held it out to Miles. He looked at the container with wide eyes. “That’s a pretty big container for tomatoes.”

  “Yeah, we like to fill up at least two or three for the day. If that’s too large for you I can—”

  He accepted the container. “No, it’s cool, I’ve got it,” he said, smiling at Ben.

  Kyla waved at Tayler, who was busy opening the cash register for the day. Then she pulled out her phone and texted Kevin to come pick them up.

  “After the tomatoes we’ll do a little weeding. It’s very time-consuming and tedious, but that’s what organic farming is all about.”

  Miles grinned and shook his head. “Five days of this is what I signed up for, didn’t I?”

  Kyla beamed. “Yes, you did. Around here we don’t have a lot of machines to do all the work. As the sign out front says, it’s a labor of love. Hope you’re ready to get dirty.”

  “I’m ready for anything,” he replied.

  “I certainly hope so,” she said, half under her breath, as she turned and strutted out to wait for Kevin.

  Only time would tell if he could keep up with the pace around here—time that would be largely spent in her company.

  Kyla didn’t know how to feel about that.

  Chapter 7

  Harvesting tomatoes wasn’t too bad, but manually weeding the garden beds wasn’t exactly what Miles thought he would be doing this week. The labor-intensive work, along with the hot sun beating down on them, made those rocking chairs on the B and B’s front porch look better and better by the minute.

  Kyla had thrown on a large sun hat and was down in the dirt yanking weeds like there was no tomorrow. He’d never met a woman that beautiful without an ounce of vanity about herself. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of her face, and for some reason that looked so sensual to him. At the conference she’d worn her hair up in a bun, but here she wore it pulled back into a low ponytail, swinging down her back. He bet she was stunning with her hair down.

  Kyla looked over at Miles, and he smiled, then returned to yanking pesky weeds from the ground.

  “Getting hot?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m good. How about you?”

  “I’m hot, I’m tired and I’m thirsty.”

  “Wanna take a break?” he asked.

  She looked around before wiping her forehead with the short sleeve of her polo shirt. “Let’s finish this row first.”

  Miles glanced up ahead. His particular row had to be another twenty feet, if not more. “Okay, how about I race you?”

  She laughed. “What? As hard as this is, you want to race?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Let’s see who finishes first.” He had to do something to take his focus off the perspiration rolling down her beautiful face.

  She smiled like she knew something he didn’t and then bit her bottom lip. He got the impression he was in trouble.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Miles applied laser focus to the weeds in front of him. Sweat drenched his face, his back and under his T-shirt. He yanked, plucked and tossed, but somehow she finished before him.

  She threw her hands up. “Ta-da! The winner and weeding champ, Kyla Coleman.”

  Miles threw his weeds in the bag and sat down in the dirt. How in the hell had she beat him? She joined him, grinning like she’d won the lottery.

  “A little harder than you thought, huh?” she asked in a patronizing tone.

  “Let’s just say, it’s not quite what I expected. You don’t have machines for this?”

  “We do, but they’re only used if we miss the window of opportunity. Which is now, while they’re small.” She squatted down across from Miles and started pulling up weeds. “Come on, I’ll help you finish this row.”

  “I have a feeling this week is going to be a real eye-opener,” he said, as he continued to wrap his big hands around the base of the little weeds and yank.

  “I thought you worked on a farm before?”

  “Nope. I have some knowledge of the industry, of course. Growing up, my parents had a very small garden out back that I was forced to help with.”

  “Forced!” Kyla said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, I was into sports. I didn’t want to be in the backyard pulling up onions and picking green beans.”

  Kyla stopped and looked at him. “So, where are you from, and how did you wind up in the food distribution business?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m from Douglasville, Georgia. And you might say my calling, as I refer to it, started in middle school. My parents were missionaries, so we lived in West Africa and parts of the Caribbean until I was in high school.”

  “What did they do over there, teach Christianity?”

  “They did the Lord’s work through our church. My father’s focus was on sustainability. He raised money and helped villagers in need. Everything I saw had a lasting impression on me.”

  “That’s where you saw all the hunger, right?”

  “Yeah. The devastation was overwhelming. I wanted to go home and send them all my food. Later on, I learned there are numerous reasons the food doesn’t get to the people. It’s crazy. And there’s so much political red tape. It’s extremely frustrating. But the smiling faces on the people you do help keeps you doing whatever you can.”

  Kyla returned to pulling weeds. “I know what you mean. I did an internship in Panama. It was eye-opening, for sure. But then I came home and saw a news story about hunger in rural America. For some kids, the school lunch is their only meal of the day. I couldn’t imagine that kind of poverty right here in my own backyard.”

  Miles had reached the end of the row. Kyla tossed the last of her weeds into the bucket. He understood her passion and believed she was capable of so much more.

  “So, after your internship, you started Rooted Beginnings?” he asked.

  “No. I took a job as a food marketing expert in Maryland.” Kyla motioned for Miles to bring the bucket of weeds and follow her. “I enjoyed the work, but all it did was make me want to learn more and help more. Sitting behind a desk all day wasn’t what I wanted to do. I needed to touch people, you know?”

  “I think I know what you mean. Just like I hate to deal with the red tape that slows my seeds from getting where they need to be.”

  Kyla took off her hat and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Feeding people feeds my soul, as well. Especially the knowledge that what I’m doing is good for them.”

  He sighed. “Durable and drought-resistant seeds feed a lot of people. What I’m doing is good for people, too.”

  Kyla gave him a smug smile and turned, walking toward a makeshift s
tand that held the buckets of weeds. Miles knew they might have some disagreements this week, but he had faith they’d find some common ground.

  “Kyla, I know you have a problem with my company’s approach to ending hunger, but I’m not here to convert you this week.”

  Scratching the back of her head, Kyla asked, “What are you really here for?”

  Miles set his bucket down and crossed his arms. “You know what I’m here for.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t, because from the articles I’ve read on the internet, you’re more the partying type, hanging out with rappers and models, than an astute businessman.”

  He threw his arms up. “Don’t tell me you believe everything you see on the internet. You’re basing your opinion of me on some stories meant to get ratings. Do I like to go out and party? Some of the time, yes. Do I date beautiful women? Sometimes, yes. But I’m also a responsible young man. Don’t believe everything you read.”

  Kyla threw up her hands, mimicking him. “Okay, I get it. Not all the stories about you stumbling out of clubs and hanging with supermodels are true.”

  Miles drew in a deep breath and released it. “I’ve never stumbled out of any club. Instead of Googling me, get to know me before you form an opinion.” The frustration of being perceived in the wrong light yet again was irritating, but he hadn’t meant to come across so harsh, and from her wide-eyed expression, she hadn’t expected it, either.

  She let out a long, low sigh.

  “So, teacher, can we get off to a better start?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  He liked the way her face transformed from a pinched expression to a softer, happy one. Before the week was out, he’d have her smiling all over the place. She finally accepted his hand.

  “Kyla, I have a feeling this week is going to be educational for the both of us.”

  * * *

  After the morning chores, Miles took a quick shower and freshened up. When he walked back downstairs, the smell of fresh-baked cookies filled his nostrils. Mrs. Rita and Tayler stood in the dining room setting out plates of baked goods. Two huge pitchers sat at one end of the table.

  “Mr. Parker, help yourself to some of my famous lemonade or a little refreshing cucumber water.” Rita gestured to the goods on the table. “These are Tracee’s homemade soft-baked chocolate chip cookies.”

  “First of all, ladies, please call me Miles. And how did you know I love chocolate chip cookies?”

  The ladies turned to each other and said in unison, “Who doesn’t?”

  Miles bit into the soft, warm cookie, and the chocolate sweetness exploded in his mouth. “This has to be about the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve ever tasted, and I’m particular about my sweets,” he said. “And it’s still warm.”

  Rita unfolded her arms. “Help yourself, Miles. There’s more where those came from.” She spun around and returned to the kitchen.

  “So this is part of the B and B’s ambiance, warm baked cookies. I like it.” Before he took another bite, he took a sip of the lemonade. It wasn’t too sweet or too tart. It was perfect.

  “This is the bomb. Perfect after a long morning in the sun.”

  Tayler laughed. “This morning was nothing. If you’re shadowing Kyla, you’re going to spend hours in the sun. She works hard. I don’t know what we’d do without her around here.”

  “Yeah, she’s breaking me in like a horse.”

  “Well, you told her you wanted to learn about organic farming, and that’s her passion. I’m surprised she doesn’t have you out there right now.”

  “After we finished weeding what felt like the whole vegetable garden, she said she had to make a delivery. She’s going to introduce me to the greenhouse when she returns.”

  “Kyla is by far the smartest young lady I’ve ever met. She’s very knowledgeable about the farm. She does a little bit of everything around here. One day you might find her stringing cucumbers, and the next day she’s teaching kids how to grow vegetables. She even helps out around the B and B from time to time,” Tayler added.

  “Sounds like she’s a regular Jack, or Jill, of all trades.”

  Tayler looked toward the kitchen door and frowned. “She is. But I wish she’d get out more. She’s too young to not have a social life.”

  Miles nodded, not sure what she expected him to say.

  Tayler chuckled. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. But when you’re working with her this week and she seems very rigid and controlling, just remember underneath all that agriculture talk is a fun, intelligent woman.”

  “I don’t doubt that. If I’m lucky, she’ll let me see that side of her before the week is out.”

  “Maybe,” Tayler replied. “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your break. The laundry awaits.”

  Miles said goodbye, and Tayler left the dining room. That had been a rather interesting conversation, he had to admit. He grabbed another cookie before walking across the hall to the library. A large flat-screen television hung on the wall. He made himself comfortable on the sofa and found a baseball game to watch until he heard someone clear their throat. He turned around. Kyla stood in the doorway.

  “I came to see if you wanted to help with the herb garden in the greenhouse, then I realized you might be hungry. Since most of our guests are usually out at this time, we only prepare lunch by special request.”

  He turned the television off and set the remote down. “I had some of Mrs. Rita’s famous lemonade and some warm cookies, but I could use a plate of some protein before I get back to work.” He stood up. “And seeing how I don’t know my way around Danville, how about you escort me someplace?”

  Her eyes widened. “There’s a good Mediterranean café in town that you can’t miss if you just—”

  He walked toward her, shaking his head. “I’m not good with directions, and unless you want me to get lost, you’ll go with me.” He turned a pair of pleading eyes on her.

  * * *

  Sitting across the table from Kyla at the café, Miles was once again astonished at how naturally beautiful she was. She didn’t need a drop of makeup. Her silky-smooth complexion was enhanced by her long eyelashes and perfectly shaped brows. He noticed she’d added a little spicy-colored lip gloss.

  “How’s your food?” Kyla asked, after he’d taken a few bites of his Philly cheesesteak gyro.

  He nodded. “It’s good. Fresh.”

  She smiled. “We supply their fresh produce every day.”

  “Really! Do you supply most of the restaurants in town?”

  “Only a few. So I like to patronize them when I can.”

  “Understandable. I can’t remember if I already asked you this, but what is it you hope to do with your PhD after you finish school?” Miles found himself taking in every movement and gesture Kyla made. When she ran her hand along the side of her hair before answering him, he marveled at how seductive that slight movement was.

  “Initially, I wanted to work for the government. But in Maryland, I worked with this afterschool program that opened my eyes to a lot of things. I realized I wanted to work with children. Most school systems do such an inadequate job of teaching nutrition.”

  “Do you plan on striking out on your own?”

  “My program is nonprofit and I want to keep it that way. So I’ll have to get a job in the private sector. I meet a lot of people in my industry, so I hope getting a job won’t be hard.”

  Miles nodded. “Speaking at the conference helped to get your name out there.”

  “Yeah, but I’d like to make it to the Global Summit on Food and Beverages this year. I’m trying to talk Rollin into signing the farm up, but so far he’s not interested.”

  Miles set his gyro down and wiped his mouth. “I’m speaking at the Food and Beverage conference this year. Or, rather, my company is presenting.”

  Kyla’s eyes lit
up, and she set her sandwich down. “Are you kidding me?”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not. My business partner loves the networking.”

  “Wow, that’s why I want to go. Imagine all the networking I can do for my program. I don’t want to just focus on Kentucky. I want to branch out all over the United States.”

  “Why not the world?” he asked.

  “I believe in starting at home.”

  “But attending a Global Summit would definitely broaden your perspective. It’s in Chicago this year. Have you ever been there?” he asked.

  “No, but I bet it’s your home away from home, isn’t it?”

  “You can call it that. I lived there for eleven years. There’s no place like Chicago and Wrigley Field. Cold in the winter, but the summers are beautiful.”

  Kyla picked up her sandwich. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you move back to Kentucky?”

  “I still have my condo in Chicago, but Lexington’s always been good to me. It feels like home. Besides, it’s where I met my business partner and we started our company.”

  Just as Kyla bit into her sandwich, a tall, older gentleman of Greek heritage approached the table.

  “Kyla, welcome!” He held his arms out. “What a pleasure.”

  Miles wiped his hands as Kyla stood and the man embraced her in a friendly hug.

  “Anthimos, it’s so good to see you!”

  She gestured toward Miles, then clasped her hands together like she didn’t know what to do with them. “This is Miles, a guest at the B and B.”

  Miles stood and accepted Anthimos’s offered hand.

  “Miles, it’s a pleasure. How was your food today?”

  “It was great, thank you.”

  “We serve nothing but the freshest food. All our produce comes from the Coleman Farm.”

  “Yes, Kyla told me. I probably picked some of these tomatoes myself this morning,” Miles added with a slight chuckle.

  “Oh, they have you out working the farm.” Anthimos elbowed Miles, and nodded toward Kyla. “This one isn’t working you too hard, is she? I hear she can be pretty tough.”