Right?
Mia peeked above the table to make sure. Yep. He was still wearing jeans. Although they were loose enough to hang low on his hips and were liberally streaked with dirt and grass stains at the knees. He could be in a hot-farmer calendar with that getup.
All he needed to do was stick his thumbs through his belt loops, pull down the pants a little bit, maybe flex.
The image was not at all appealing.
Not at all.
Mia shook her head and focused on the vegetables. Putting them out in neat rows, hanging the pretty little price tags Anna had made for her in art class. Maybe Dell offered a certain kind of appeal to some women, but families would appreciate Pruitt’s cleanliness, cuteness and overall clothedness.
She told herself that all morning, but woman after woman, regardless of the number of children they were carting around, fled to Dell and his shirtless idiocy. A few families came by her booth and bought some vegetables. A few of the women came over and bought a pan of Mom’s cinnamon rolls, since Dell wasn’t offering any baked goods at his table.
But mainly, Dell was winning. And she didn’t know how to fight back. It was an old, familiar feeling. In the first grade, she’d accidentally tucked her skirt into her underwear and hadn’t noticed for hours. Six years old, and she’d been forever labeled a geek. The teasing had escalated each school year, and her attempts to fit in only made it worse.
She’d never known how to make herself above the jokes, the snickers. She either tried too hard or stayed invisible. There was no in-between for her.
Mia took a deep breath and looked around the market. This space had given her the tools to be confident enough not to care what other people thought. To quiet the incessant voice in her head telling her she was doing everything wrong. She’d mostly found her in-between in adulthood and maturity, and that couldn’t be taken away.
She might not know how to beat Dell yet, but she’d figure it out. Damn right she would.
As the morning wore down, Cara started packing up. “Anna texted me she won her event. She wants us to meet her at Moonrise at twelve-thirty.”
Mia muttered her assent, scowling at a grinning Dell as much as she could while they packed up the truck.
He sauntered over and Mia straightened to her full height. Damn, she wished for a few more inches so he wouldn’t tower over her like some kind of Paul Bunyan. At least Dell had managed to put on his shirt before he came over.
He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll take one of your mom’s cinnamon rolls.” He grinned when Cara smiled at him, all but fluttering her lashes as she handed over the tin of gooey baked goods. “I sure worked up an appetite selling so much today.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard stripping is really hard work. Maybe next week you can add some glittery tassels.”
His jaw tensed, but then he smiled, his gaze drifting to her chest. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in some glittery tassels.”
Wait. What?
He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “That’s not…what I meant.” He shoved the money at her. Mia grunted in disgust, trying to pretend she wasn’t the darkest shade of red possible. She took his money and opened the change bank.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, hon.” He drawled out the hon until Mia ground her teeth. “Keep the change.”
She just needed one snappy comeback and she could forget this bizarre conversation had ever happened. But her mind was blank.
“It looks like you guys might be needing the extra money, after all.” He winked, tipped his baseball cap.
“Of all the arrog—”
“Thanks, Dell,” Cara said, stepping in front of her. “We appreciate it. See you next week.”
“Sure thing, Carrie.”
Dell sauntered off and Mia pushed her sister. “What the hell? He was being totally patronizing.”
Cara shrugged. “So what? He’s cute. He smiled at me. Apparently he wants to see you in tassels, which, oh, my God. And he gave us five bucks. That’s a two buck tip.”
“He called you Carrie.”
Cara shrugged. “Hey, if he wants me to be a Carrie, I’ll be a Carrie.”
Mia slammed the truck bed shut and hopped into the driver’s seat, fuming. Keep the change. It looks like you guys might be needing the extra money, after all. She’d show him where he could shove his change.
And she would not, not, not think about the bizarre tassels comment. Of course he didn’t mean it. No one could even see her breasts under her oversized sweatshirt.
And even more importantly, she knew how Dell saw her. How everyone still saw her. She might have changed, but everyone from New Benton knew her as the girl who’d written and performed a one-woman play about cow milking at the school talent show in an attempt to get in with the theater kids.
No one wanted to see the girl who’d done that in anything other than a clown outfit.
Cara sang along with Carrie Underwood as Mia drove back to New Benton. The thirty-minute drive didn’t calm her. She was still furious when she slid into a booth at the Moonrise Diner.
Anna was already seated, her hair in a wet ponytail from her swim meet, a New Benton High jacket across her shoulders. She looked over the menu. A menu that hadn’t changed in any of their lifetimes. When she looked up, her head snapped back. “Uh-oh. Who crossed Mia? She’s breathing fire.”
Cara laughed, slinging an arm over Anna’s shoulders. Across the table, Mia sneered at them both.
“Dell’s kicking her ass at the market. He even used the Naked Farmer thing to his advantage. Poor Mia isn’t taking it well.”
Mallory set their usual drinks in front of them. “You girls want the usual?”
“I want a salad instead of fries,” Anna announced, putting the menu back behind the napkin dispenser. Mallory nodded and then disappeared to put in their orders.
“You need to up your game,” Anna instructed, with the kind of surety Mia had never, ever had at seventeen.
“How am I supposed to compete with beefcake of the month?”
“You have breasts.” Cara pointed to Mia’s chest.
Mia choked on the sip of soda she’d taken. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, you can’t take your shirt off, but you could show off a few of those assets you insist on hiding. Women aren’t the only ones who go to the farmer’s market.”
She couldn’t even begin to formulate a response to her sister suggesting she use her breasts as some kind of selling device. Besides, why were they getting so much attention today?
“Cara’s on to something,” Anna said, tapping her chin. “All you have to do is get some tighter jeans. Not even skin tight, just ones that actually fit. A T-shirt instead of the baggy sweats.”
“But—”
“We were right about the hair, weren’t we?”
Yes, a year ago her sisters had finally convinced her the perm wasn’t doing anything for her. Cara had gotten her an appointment with the hairstylist at the salon she worked at in Millertown. Shelly had made Mia’s mousy, flat hair look decent with the right cut and highlights.
“And the glasses.”
“Hey, I started wearing contacts for practical reasons.” Mia folded and unfolded the napkin in front of her. She’d gotten to the point where she’d broken so many pairs of glasses and spent so much time cleaning them when she was out in the fields, getting over her eye-touching phobia had been downright necessary.
Losing the glasses hadn’t been some lame attempt at being pretty. Even if she’d hoped the guys would magically start flocking once she went the contact route. Stupid movies giving girls stupid expectations.
Guys didn’t flock. She could turn into Jessica Rabbit and everyone would still see her as Mia, Queen of the Geeks. She might have gotten over some of her shyness and social anxiety, but it certainly hadn’t changed people’s perception of her. Not when she’d accidentally set her hair on fire in chem lab freshman year. Twice.
“Whatever,” Cara said with the wa
ve of a hand. “The point is, guys are customers, too. Tight jeans, a low-cut shirt, you’re good to go.”
“I am not stooping to Dell’s level!”
“Suit yourself,” Anna replied with a shrug. “But don’t come complaining to us when his profits kick your profits’ ass.”
“And you have a decent ass. You might as well flaunt it.”
“You guys are nuttier than a fruitcake.” Mia pushed out of the booth.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom.” Mia knew the bathrooms of every establishment in New Benton like the back of her hand, having spent many a hyperventilating moment in each of their stalls. Moonrise Diner had the nicest of the lot, so if she was going to do a little hyperventilating, there were few better places to do it.
Mia shut herself in the first stall, took a deep breath. She had a decent body underneath the baggy clothes, she’d just never felt comfortable showcasing it. She’d made progress the past few years in confidence and not caring what other people thought, but not progress enough to use her body as some kind of selling point. Wasn’t that just a few steps away from prostitution?
Mia exhaled. Took another deep breath. Dell had kicked her ass today. It didn’t take a look at his books to know he’d outsold her by almost half.
If she wore tighter jeans, a shirt that didn’t hide every last curve, well, it wasn’t like she’d look any different than most of the women her age. It wasn’t using sex as a selling tool. It was another step in being more like a normal twenty-six-year-old woman.
Maybe dressing the part would even bring her closer to that actual having-sex step. Or at least a real-kiss step.
She was doing this for herself. Mia stepped out of the stall, head held high.
Chapter Three
It couldn’t have been more than thirty-five degrees this morning, but sweat poured down Dell’s back as he descended the hill in a steady jog. His entire family thought his three-mile-a-day habit was nuts, but few things were as refreshing as a morning run. Especially on cold mornings when frost danced on the grass and his breath huffed out in clouds.
He approached the small cabin at the edge of his parents’ property. It had been built for his grandparents before Grandpa died and Grandma’d moved into the assisted-living center in Millertown. Now, it was Dell’s. Paid rent on it and everything.
Dell lifted a leg onto the wooden fence, stretching forward as he watched the sunrise envelop the sky behind the hill. On top of the hill was his parents’ house. Mom and Dad would be long since up. Kenzie would be snoring—loudly—in his old room.
Sometimes he missed living in the big house. Always having someone to talk to or bother. He definitely wasn’t solitary by nature, so living alone wasn’t exactly a luxury. In fact, some days it downright blew.
But he was going to prove to Dad he was a responsible adult. Living on his own, paying rent, running the farmer’s market and Community Supported Agriculture parts of the farm, it was all supposed to show Dad that Dell was responsible and smart enough to take over, to run this place. That he wanted it for what it was.
So far, Dell had gotten a lot of skeptical looks and a reminder that he used to blow off chores to sleep off a night of partying. Or a rehash of when he’d wrecked the brand new baler in an attempt to show off for a bunch of his buddies. Drunk.
Seven years ago. Was there a statute of limitations on blowing off chores or drunk baler-wrecking?
In Dad’s world, probably not.
Still, the old baler story was less of a problem than when Dad lectured him about being more like Charlie, getting out of farming altogether, telling him to “see the future.”
Dell inhaled the cold air, let it out, tried to blow the bitterness out with it. He’d been an idiot and a jackass for many years, for no particular reason other than he lacked direction and drive. Living up to everyone thinking he wasn’t much more than a pretty face had seemed a lot easier than proving them wrong, but when Dad told him he was thinking about selling to a developer, it had snapped Dell out of it.
He loved the farm. He loved this place and doing this work. Losing it wasn’t an option. Going into business, moving closer to St. Louis. None of it appealed to Dell. No matter what it took, he was going to make his father see he had changed. He was going to make Dad see this place was his future.
Dell took care of the little cabin, even tried to keep it clean despite his messy nature. Occasionally he paid Kenzie to help him out in that department.
And it was nice to have someplace that was his, that Dad couldn’t look down his nose at.
And it was always nice to have a place to bring a woman home to.
Mia’s image popped into his head. Such a strange intrusion he laughed into the quiet spring morning. A pig squealed in the distance and Dell jumped off the fence.
He had about fifteen minutes until Charlie would show up complaining about the early hour, loading up the vegetables and every damn thing. It was nice to have company while he worked, but Charlie’s nonstop bitching was starting to get old and they were only into week three. Charlie was helping out to soothe Mom’s worries that his corporate lifestyle was ruining his karma. An idea she’d picked up from some corny TV show.
Dell didn’t really give a crap about his brother’s karma, but the help was nice. If Charlie would stop complaining all the damn time.
He hopped into the shower. No more brooding over his family. He had work to do today.
What would Mia have up her sleeves? He doubted his turning around her Naked Farmer moniker to help himself had left her too happy. He probably hadn’t helped the situation with his “keep the change” comment.
Nope. Not happy. If Mia could shoot lasers from her pretty green eyes, he’d be deader than a doornail.
Why the thought cheered him after his depressing inner monologue earlier, he had no idea. Whistling, Dell pulled on a pair of faded jeans, the kind loose enough at the waist to hang a little low.
He was no dummy.
He shrugged on a button-up flannel shirt, finger-combed his wet hair, then grabbed his keys and wallet. Maybe if he texted Charlie to meet him up at the vegetable shed, he could cut down on the amount of whining he had to listen to.
But when he stepped outside, Charlie’s sleek luxury car was already parked in front of the gate. Along with Dad’s truck. The two men leaned against poles of his fence, Charlie with a to-go coffee cup in his hand, Dad with his beat-up thermos.
It made no sense at all that Charlie was the favorite. Dell was the one following the old man’s footsteps. Charlie acted like the old man’s footsteps were caked with manure.
Not really the best comparison, since technically manure was a way of life around here.
Dell let out a breath and steeled himself for a round of disdain. “Morning.”
Dad and Charlie grunted in unison.
“Still doing the market thing, then?”
Dell didn’t flinch, didn’t scowl. “Yup. Told you I’d be doing it all year again. CSA stuff, too.”
“Can’t believe people pay money to come here and pick up a bunch of vegetables.”
“People care about where their food comes from.”
Dad shook his head, muttered something about hippies. Which was hilarious. Mom had been the one to suggest he start a CSA. In her own practical way, she was the biggest hippie in New Benton. “Has he let you look at the CSA profits? They’re pretty dismal if you ask me, but I’d like to know your take.” Dad asked Charlie, jerking his head toward Dell.
This time Dell did scowl. He jammed his baseball cap on his head in the hopes it’d hide most of his expression. His brother might be a VP of Sales, but he didn’t know a damn thing about Dell’s business. “Charlie hasn’t once set eyes on my spreadsheets. He sells crap not food.”
“You should let him look. I don’t like what I’m seeing. Maybe we need a second opinion.”
“He’s not a farmer.”
Dad rolled his eyes. “More power to him.�
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Dell didn’t know how many times they could have the same conversation. Run in the same loop. Probably over and over and over since neither of them could understand the other’s point.
“Do I have to remind you you’re a farmer?”
“I wanted something better for my sons. Look at Charlie. He went out and made a name for himself. Didn’t get tied down to this burden. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I fell in love with this burden, Dad. This place. This work. I don’t want better.”
“Farming isn’t love.” Dad shook his head. “It’s hard work and dirt and hell on a body.” He drained his thermos. “Head in the clouds.” He walked back to his truck, shaking his head.
How could he feel that way? How could he still work this land and feel that way? Dell didn’t understand it, wasn’t sure he ever would.
In silence, he and Charlie slid into Dell’s truck, drove up to the vegetable shack and loaded the truck for market. When they got back in and drove off Wainwright property, Charlie made a big production of tapping his leg, fidgeting in his seat.
“Spit it out.” He’d rather hear all of Charlie’s complaints than watch him try to keep them in.
“Look, Dell, you’re not dumb.”
Dell scowled at the stoplight in front of him. “I know I’m not dumb.” Of course, Charlie had read at a kindergarten level at the age of three! And solved for x in elementary school. While Dell had enjoyed remedial reading and math all through middle school.
But that didn’t make him dumb. Not in the areas that mattered.
“So, the thing is, you could have more than this.” Charlie waved at the farmland on either side of the highway Dell merged onto.
“I don’t want more than this. This isn’t some compromise or slacker job. It’s what I want. It’s important.”
Charlie didn’t say anything else, just shook his head and looked out the passenger-side window.
Dell watched as farmland morphed into suburbia. He didn’t belong anywhere else. He belonged on that farm. It was his heart, and the work he did was important. Someday he’d have to accept he was the only one in his family who believed it.
Harlequin E Contemporary Romance Box Set Volume 2: Maid to CraveAll I HaveThe Last First DateLight My Fire Page 27
