“But you’re doing that already, aren’t you? You listen to Gordie, sing with him, even act like he’s really from the eighteenth century.”
“Yeah, but it’s not good enough. People like Gordie need places they can express their creativity and be recognized for their individuality, not marginalized as riffraff. What happens if he gets sick or injured? Where’s the safety net?”
Dylan’s questions had Carina squirming. It was easy to debate homelessness, taxes, and health care reform in a wood-paneled university conference room. Quite another thing when confronted with a real person.
“What happened to him? Does he really believe he’s from the eighteenth century?”
“I’m not sure. I think he had his heart broken and never got over it.” Dylan’s facial muscles tightened and his mouth drew into a line.
Somehow he wasn’t speaking only about Gordie.
“How about you, Mr. Jewell? Has anyone ever broken your heart?”
~ ~ ~
Dylan shielded his eyes from the glare of the late afternoon sun. Carina had lobbed him a personal question. Served him right for getting personal about her dreams or lack thereof.
She tightened her grip on his hand. “Not going to tell?”
“How long have we known each other?”
“Not long enough. Which is why you can tell me.”
Dylan’s heartbeat did a hop, skip and a jump. If he wanted to get over his hurt and disappointment, he should start by admitting it so he could move on. At least that’s what his sister had told him.
They strolled several blocks into a residential area. Dylan took a deep breath and slackened his pace as they arrived at a corner shaded by purple plum trees.
He might as well tell her. She’d keep pestering him all summer. There was no stopping a curious woman.
“I’ve had my heart broken. Only once.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyebrows creased in the middle. “Are you over it?”
“I’d like to think I am. But it still hurts.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Have you had any relationships after?” She balanced herself on a planter wall made of vertical log segments, hopping from one to the other.
“No. I generally don’t date.” His stomach churned. “I mean, I asked you on a walk, but …”
She jumped off the last log segment and tugged his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t date either. Are we almost there? Wherever it is we’re going?”
“See that row of hedges over there? I’ll race you.” He was glad she let him off so easily.
“You’re on.” She let go of his hand and took off running, her sandals slapping the cracked sidewalk.
Dylan let her get ahead a half a block, and then loped to her side, his long legs easily eating up the distance. “Gotcha.”
~ ~ ~
Breathless, Carina stopped in front of the hedge, her hands on her knees. She definitely needed more exercise. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“Not fair,” she said. “I had to take two steps to your every one.”
“I barely caught you.” Dylan unlocked the chain and unlatched the gate in between the hedges. He held it open while she walked in, still breathing hard.
A chocolate Labrador retriever jumped up and down, barking and wagging its tail.
Dylan rubbed the dog’s head. “Sallie, girl, I brought a friend. Her name is Carina and she’s going to have dinner with us.”
“Hi, Sallie.” Carina let the dog sniff her fingers and lick them. “Where are we?”
“Youth Action Community Garden and Urban Farm.” Dylan pointed to a colorful sign on the chicken coop. “I volunteer here, teaching homeless young people how to garden. Everything is organic.”
“Organic? I hope there aren’t a lot of bugs around here.” Carina swatted at her bare arms. “I hate them.”
Dylan put a hand on his hip and smirked. “They’re natural, and some of them are a gardener’s best friend, like the ladybug.”
“Ugh, whatever. Do you have any repellant?”
“Sure, if you want to smell like obnoxious chemicals.” He opened the gardening shed and pointed to the top shelf.
“Better than being bitten.” Carina grabbed a spray can. “Keeps pests away.”
“Just keep that nozzle downwind from me.” He pinched his nose and made a face at her.
While Carina sprayed herself, a flock of chickens pecked their way over.
Dylan made clucking sounds and scattered chicken feed on the straw covering the pen. The hens followed him, their heads bobbing back and forth like mechanical robots.
Carina shook her head. This guy had gone full throttle rebelling against his father. Organic gardening, feeding chickens, what else?
“Don’t tell me we’re going to catch one of them and kill it.” Carina put the can back in the shed. “That’s going to be gross.”
“Not today.” Dylan chuckled. “Although we do teach the students how to behead a chicken, dunk it in hot water and hang it upside down to pluck. Then they have to take out the innards, making sure not to pop the gall and intestines.”
“Yuck, disgusting. I’d rather get my chicken deboned and wrapped in plastic.”
“Now, that is horrible.” Dylan sniffed. “Here, everything’s natural. We even kill our chickens the old fashioned way, on a chopping block. It’s more humane than hanging them by the feet and running them by whirring blades.”
“I believe you. I just don’t want to do it.” She primly crossed her arms. There was such a thing as carrying the back-to-nature movement too far.
“We’ll put you to work gathering the chicken manure for fertilizing the vegetables.”
“Oh, that’s even more disgusting!” Which is exactly why she was going into investment banking, so she could pay someone else for her organic food.
“Someone’s gotta do it.” Dylan rummaged in the shed and handed her a rake.
“Are you serious? I was prepared to eat at a nice restaurant, not be put to work on a farm.”
Laughter rolled from his wide mouth, and his eyes crinkled, a marked contrast to the sad face he had earlier while telling her about his broken heart.
“Okay, I’m a good sport.” Carina took the bucket Dylan handed her. It was worth it to see him laugh. But if she had her druthers, she’d rather take him to a comedy club for that.
“Come here.” Dylan wagged his finger. “I’ll do it. Why don’t you pick some vegetables? Get two summer squash, a handful of snap peas, and a leek and I’ll cook it up for you on the camp stove.”
“Anything’s better than chicken shit. Do you have any gloves?”
“Let me find a pair your size.” Dylan opened a drawer. “We have a few teenage girls and I don’t think they’ll mind if you borrow their gloves.”
“Homeless teenagers?” Carina looked at the names on the bulletin board. “Don’t they have foster homes to take care of them?”
Dylan stared at her long enough for her to cringe. “It’s not that simple.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Carina’s gut twisted as she examined the gloves. They were oily and caked with dirt.
“No, of course you wouldn’t know.” He touched the back of her neck gently. “I’ll explain later, but right now, let’s get our dinner going. We haven’t got much time before the sun sets. After we eat, I’ll fill up a few boxes of produce and eggs for the homeless shelter.”
He gave her a kiss on her cheek, but somehow Carina felt she’d flunked a test, that Dylan was disappointed with her. She took the basket and trudged to the vegetable beds. It shouldn’t be too hard to pick two squash, a few snap peas and a leek, that is, if she knew what they looked like.
Chapter 11
Dylan laughed to himself as he watched Carina tiptoe gingerly along the vegetable plot. Instead of picking the squash, she poked at it with a branch.
“Good idea,” he yelled. “Make sure there aren’t any rattlesnakes b
efore sticking your hand into the vegetable beds.”
She jumped and squealed, dropping the stick. “You have snakes here?”
“Just tap the ground and they’ll slither away. Sallie was almost bitten, so she’ll growl if she hears one.” He knew he wasn’t being nice, teasing her, but she was so damn cute when she was riled up.
He pushed Sallie toward Carina. “Go over there, girl. Help her watch for snakes.”
Sallie bounded toward Carina and jumped, landing her front paws on her breasts.
“Ah! She’s getting mud on me.” Carina stumbled and fell on her butt in the squash patch while Sallie enthusiastically licked her face. Carina ducked and squirmed, pushing Sallie. “Stop it.”
Dylan jogged to her side and pulled the dog off. “Down, Sallie. That’s not polite. If you want to kiss her, you have to ask nicely.”
Ha, ha, wonder what she’d do if he laid a big wet one on her.
Carina squeaked and wiped her hands frantically over herself. “Bugs crawling all over me.”
“Where?” Dylan helped her up and patted her muddy shorts to flick the clods of earth off.
“Stop touching.” She slapped his hand and swiped at her white shorts. “I must have sat on an anthill. Ow! Shit, they went up my panties.”
Lucky ants. They were crawling where he wanted to be.
“Need any help?” He rubbed his hands together.
“No, you, stay away.” She tap-danced on the path, brushing her hands between her legs and over her chest while fending off Sallie. “You too. You probably have fleas. Ow, ow. They’re biting me.”
By the way her ass was jiggling, they must be eating her alive. It was amazing how fast ants can come in for the kill.
She streaked toward the gardening shed and grabbed the insect repellant, pumping the spray between her thighs.
Yow, that’s a load of chemicals. A chuckle slipped from Dylan’s mouth before he could cover it. Uh oh, she heard him.
“Are we done?” Carina punched both hands on her hips and glared at him. “I thought you were nice, but you’re a big brat.”
Dylan doubled over with laughter. She was damn cute, especially wearing a streak of mud on her right cheek and a paw print on her white t-shirt, right over the words ‘Good Girls.’ He slipped his cell phone from his pocket and snapped a picture.
Sallie barked and Carina charged him. “Erase that right now. This isn’t funny.”
Dylan sprinted across the yard with Sallie bounding at his side. His repressed roommate couldn’t take a joke, and he’d definitely blown his chances of getting into her panties. But the paw print picture was priceless.
After chasing him around the chicken coop several times, Carina gave up.
“This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.” She stomped off toward the garden gate.
Dylan grabbed the basket and picked up the spray, watching Carina out of the corner of his eye.
She opened the gate, looked both ways and turned left.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he yelled.
“Thanks.” She walked past the gate and headed the other direction.
She was sure to get lost since they’d zigzagged several blocks on the way over. Dylan hurriedly filled the basket with summer squash, snap peas, leeks, and eggs. The sun was setting, and an evening mist descended on the garden.
He herded the chickens back into the coop and glanced over near the gate. Yep, she was back, sitting at the picnic table, her back stiff, arms crossed.
Dylan put the gardening tools back into the shed and wiped his hands with hand sanitizer. A pang tugged at his heart. Getting bitten by ants must have hurt, and even worse, he’d laughed at her. Sheila was wrong. He definitely wasn’t any good for her. Although it wasn’t his fault Sallie had charged her. Too bad, he didn’t have an excuse to paw her breasts and pretend to be an overgrown puppy.
How old are you, Dylan Jewell. Isn’t it time you grow up? Take life more seriously? What would your mama say about the way you treated Carina?
Dylan scratched behind Sallie’s ears and gave her a push in Carina’s direction. “You should go to that nice lady and say you’re sorry.”
Sallie sat and stared at him, her tail flinging back and forth, but made no move toward Carina. Dylan locked the shed.
“Time to make amends. Come on, Sallie.” He unbuttoned his chambray work shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. Carina did look pretty pathetic, lathered in bug spray with mud up her cute backside.
Her arms were crossed as she stared at the chicken coop. He snuck up from behind and draped the shirt over her shoulders. She let it drop to the bench as she gave him a sidelong look. “What do you want?”
He shoved Sallie’s nose into Carina’s lap. “Sallie’s sorry for pushing you. She’s just a big puppy. Will you forgive her?”
Sallie’s tongue lolled as she wagged her tail, her entire rump wiggling and her big brown eyes blinking as if she were really sorry.
Carina petted her. “You’re a cute puppy aren’t you? It’s not your fault they haven’t taught you manners. Of course I forgive you, but I’ll never forgive the brute who sicced you on me.”
Dylan sat beside her and picked up his shirt. “Sallie says the brute’s sorry, too. He wants to be friends and give you the shirt off his back.”
~ ~ ~
“Well …” Carina scratched behind Sallie’s ears. “Sallie, what do you think? The brute was being mean. Shall we kick his butt? Me and you? How about it? Girl power.”
Sallie whined and thumped her tail.
Carina rolled her eyes at Dylan, who looked satisfyingly contrite. She flicked at his shirt and spoke to Sallie. “Should I take his germy shirt? It’s probably infested with ticks and lice. Maybe I should spray it with toxic chemicals, too.”
Dylan pressed the shirt over her shoulders, his hands lingering. “Sallie says you can squirt me anytime you want.”
Ooh! Carina’s mouth watered and her legs tingled. This guy was bad … real bad. Quick, think of a comeback.
Sallie licked her fingers and Carina moaned. “Didn’t Sallie tell you to lick up your own mess?”
By the way his face squeezed, she knew she’d hit him below the belt. She slowly pulled the shirt on, squirming as if fitting into an exquisite silk gown. Her eyes held his as she attached each button, one by one.
Goose bumps popped onto his bare arms, and the fact that he was only wearing a stretched white t-shirt stirred her in more places than one.
What would it be like to slip her hands under his shirt, running it across the planes of his muscles? How hot he’d feel, hovering over her, his weight resting on her. Almost two hundred pounds of pure male perfection pressed against her, wanting her, desiring, straining to get inside. Would he move fast or slow? Take his time or bang her to pieces? Not like she had any inkling of how that would feel.
Dylan stared at her as if thunderstruck. Could he read her mind?
“What?” Carina shrugged, putting on a nonchalant air. “Never seen a lady in a man’s shirt before?”
“Sure, lots of times,” he mumbled as if in a trance.
Wrong thing to say, bucko! Carina snapped out of her fantasy. “Shouldn’t we be going now?”
“We haven’t eaten yet. I can fry an omelet with the leeks and vegetables.”
Somewhere in there, Dylan’s circuits must be crossed. He thought she’d sit here in a chilly garden and have a picnic of naturally fertilized vegetables with him?
“Isn’t it kind of late? It might be dark soon.” She stood, tugging the edge of the shirt. It reached below the hemline of her shorts and made her look like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“Are you upset?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean for you to fall in the mud.”
Finally, an almost apology.
“Then what? You brought me here to laugh at me?”
“Not at all.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll delete the picture if it’ll make you feel better.”
“You don’t have to.” She cupped her hand over his phone. “Can I see?”
He gave her the phone. “I shouldn’t have laughed at you. Forgive me?”
His baby-blues beamed at her, looking expectant. How could she stay mad at the fine male specimen standing in front of her? She flicked her thumb on the touch screen and brought up the photo.
“I have mud on my face? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carina dabbed at her right cheek. She stole another glance at her photo. Not bad. The white tee hugged her curves and her legs were slim and tan.
“You look cute,” he said. “Sure you want to erase it?”
Only cute? She thought she looked rather sexy. Oh well, at least he hadn’t said “nice.”
“Do whatever you want.” She gave him the phone.
Dylan looped his arm around her and bent so his face was level with hers. He stretched his arm out and pointed the camera lens back at them. “Think happy and smile.”
He kissed her cheek. Snap.
A sparkle tickled the spot where his lips touched. Wow. Carina purposely frowned to put him off track.
“Here, take a look.” He showed her his phone, seemingly unaffected by what just happened. Of course, he kissed women, babies, puppies, all the time.
His profile was strikingly handsome and in the picture, she was smiling as if she’d been kissed by a Greek god. A warm, fluttery feeling invaded Carina. This was the first picture of them together, and he was kissing her.
“Can I have a copy?” she asked in a disinterested tone.
“Sure, I’ll forward it to you and call a cab.”
“Now you’re talking.” Carina flicked her phone. While Dylan fed Sallie and locked the chicken coop, she made their picture her background image.
If only he were boyfriend material, someone with a promising career who’d stay home most nights instead of hanging out in clubs with loose women, then things would be perfect.
~ ~ ~
Back at the apartment, Carina showered while Dylan prepared the meal. He thin-sliced the summer squash and chopped up the leeks, then blanched the snap peas and put a dab of butter on them. After grating goat cheese, he cracked open a couple of eggs and beat them.
Whole Latte Love (The Jewells) Page 11
