The Burbs and the Bees

by Cathryn Fox

  “It’s black,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you liked milk or sugar.”

  “It’s perfect,” I say. “Is this some kind of peace offering? A truce for trying to drown me?” I joke. “Or making comments about my lacy underwear?”

  He groans, and his shoulders sag. “Haven’t we moved past that?”

  “I don’t know, Jay. This smells good, but it might take more than a cup of coffee to get on my good side.” I’m kidding, of course, but the fine lines under his eyes deepen.

  “I’m just being neighborly. Around these parts, that’s what folks do, and the stuff Jack drank was so strong, it could knock out Chuck Norris.”

  “Don’t you mean Cluck Norris?” I tease as I gratefully take a big sip of the coffee. “That is so good,” I moan and with both hands I cradle the cup like it’s a priceless diamond from Tiffany & Co. Much like the diamond my ex Bradley put on my friend’s finger instead of mine.

  Jay shifts his stance, and his body stiffens as I continue to worship my coffee and moan as I breathe in the hazelnut scent. After a moment, he clears his throat and says, “For the record, I didn’t name Cluck.”

  I arch a brow, and with a hint of sassiness, I ask, “Not that clever?”

  He dips his head, and his gaze narrows in on me, zero playfulness on his face. In fact, there’s a gleam in his eyes, and it’s warning me to tread carefully. “You want to learn how to milk a cow or not?” he asks.

  “Not,” I say and grin up at him.

  This time he laughs and nudges me with his shoulder. “Come on, it’s not so bad.”

  “Way to sell it, Jay.” I glance out at the barn and give an exaggerated sigh. “I mean, you could have at least said it’s going to be the time of my life.”

  “No can do. Farmers are honest folk, remember,” he says, and I smile, enjoying the easy banter between us, even at the crack of dawn.

  “Your honesty is kind of refreshing, actually,” I say. When he continues to watch me, I add, “A lot of fake people live in my world and it’s nice to know when someone is looking you in the face, they’re not plotting ways to stab you in the back.”

  He goes quiet for a moment, and I get the sense he knows exactly what I’m talking about. Has he been stabbed in the back? Not that I’m about to ask or get personal with him. He snaps himself out of whatever trance he was in and jerks his head toward the market.

  “Jack keeps the buckets in the barn,” he says, getting right down to business. “We need to get a cloth and warm water to wash Sidney before we milk her. After we milk her, we send her out to the pasture for the day. She comes in at night. There is feed for all the other animals in the barn. I notice the fence around your perimeter is splintering. You’ll need to fix that, so the animals don’t wander off. Have you met Princess Lay-A yet?”

  “Princess Who-A?”

  “Lay-A.” He spells it for me. “She’s the top hen here. There’s a pecking order,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “Pretty clever after all, huh?”

  “Ingenious, Jay,” I tease.

  “She can be nasty, so you’ll have to watch her around the other chickens.”

  “Will do.” Trying not to feel completely overwhelmed here as we head toward the market, I go up on my toes to walk delicately, determined not to face-plant again.

  “What happened to Ty?” I ask.

  “Ty?”

  I let my gaze rake over Jay as we walk. His face and arms are tanned, and this morning he’s dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans that ride low on his hips. His dark hair is tangled, probably finger combed, and he has that whole just-crawled-out-of-bed look about him. It works for him. Big time. Yeah, my new next-door neighbor probably has all the farmers’ daughters lining up to ride on his big tractor.

  Stop thinking about his equipment.

  “You, ah, yesterday you said you’d send him over to milk Sidney,” I say, my voice coming out a little huskier than I would have liked. I sniff to pretend it’s allergies making me hoarse. Although my nose is a bit stuffy.

  He shrugs, but concern flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away. “I was up, and Ty makes lousy coffee. After yesterday, I figured you’d need a strong cup.”

  “Or a dozen,” I say as I relish another sip.

  “Yeah,” he says and rubs the back of his neck. He looks out over the orchard like he’s a million miles away with a million things on his mind.

  “Do you think you could ask Cluck to, well, hold off his clucking until like, maybe eight o’clock?”

  Jay reaches into his pants and produces a key. “He crows, he doesn’t cluck, and sadly, no.”

  “Well, Christmas dinner is soon enough, I guess.” His head rears back, and his jaw drops. “Come on, you must realize I’m kidding,” I say, grinning at his astounded expression. “I mean, Thanksgiving is much sooner.”

  This time he laughs out loud, and the hinges on the barn door creak as he opens it. “We don’t eat the roosters; we eat the chickens.” As soon as the word chicken leaves his mouth, two come racing around the barn. I watch them go and shake my head.

  “And now I’m a vegetarian.”

  Jay hands me the key to the homestead. “Here’s your key back.”

  I stare at it for a moment. “I’ve given it some thought, and maybe you should hold on to it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “In case I lock myself out or some other emergency.” Oh, you know, like finding myself in bed, alone, lonely, wanting to feel the farmer’s strong hands on my body. As my mind wanders, Jay angles his head, and my brain screams abort.

  We step into the market. “Supplies are kept in the back of the kitchen area.” My gaze drops to Jay’s cute backside as he walks through the market and pulls out two buckets and a cloth from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen.

  I make a move toward him and set aside my empty coffee mug, and a board groans beneath me. I press on it a few times, and it springs back. “This seems dangerous.”

  “The place has been closed up until last week when I restocked. Lots of repairs to be done every summer. This barn is over a hundred years old.”

  “I can fix this,” I say.

  “You’ve done floor repairs before?” he asks, skepticism all over his face.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Google?”

  “Yes.”

  Jay warms a cloth and we head toward the barn. Sidney is mooing and happy to see us when we arrive. Jay positions two stools beside the cow and places one of the buckets under her udder.

  “Come here,” he says, his voice a little quieter. I lower myself onto the milking stool beside him, and our knees bump. A jolt of electricity buzzes through me, and I jerk my leg back fast to break the connection. If Jay noticed my physical reaction to our touching, he’s ignoring it, and for that I’m grateful. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I’m here to work the farm, not my neighbor. No matter how delightful the latter sounds.

  Good Lord.

  “First, we clean her,” he says, his voice an octave lower, a soft whisper that slides down my spine and spreads warmth through me. His fingers brush mine as he takes the cloth from me, but all I can focus on are his big hands and how gentle he’s being with Sidney. He touches her carefully, and my God, there is seriously something wrong with me, because all of a sudden, I’m jealous of a damn cow. “Easy, Sidney,” he says in a voice that could make my panties disappear when she begins to move.

  I lower my voice to match his and ask, “Is she okay? She seems agitated.”

  She’s not the only one.

  “No, she’s fine. She likes this. Milking takes the pressure off and releases endorphins.”

  I lean forward, plant my elbows on my knees, and put my chin in my palm, impressed by his concern and knowledge. “You know a lot about all this, huh?”

  “It’s what I was
born to do.”

  “I don’t know what I was born to do,” I say without thinking. I straighten my back. What the hell did I say that for? This man does not need to know how much of a screwup I am.

  “Here in the valley, farms are handed down from generation to generation. It’s the way it’s always been and the way it will always be.”

  “Wait, do you run the farm?” I ask and jerk my thumb toward his property.

  “We lost Dad about five years ago. I’ve been running the place ever since.”

  I do the math and realize he had a lot of responsibility placed on him at a young age. “I’m sorry about your dad, Jay,” I say and, without thinking, put my hand on his arm. His breath shifts, becomes a bit labored as my hand lingers, and he nods slowly.

  “Thanks. My brothers help, when I can drag their lazy asses out of bed,” he says like he’s working to lighten the mood, but it’s easy to tell he loves his brothers. I like that.

  “What if you didn’t want to be a farmer, though? What if you wanted to do something else?” My hands flop open, palms up. “Something…different.” His brow furrows, and the muscles in his jaw tense as he turns from me. Wait, did I touch a sore spot? Insult him unknowingly? “I just mean, what if you wanted to write a book or something?” I say quickly.

  “You want to write a book?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, but what if farming wasn’t for you? What if you wanted to live in the city?”

  “I get that farming isn’t for you, and not everyone likes the city.”

  “What’s not to like? I mean, shopping, museums, Broadway, concerts, cafes, espresso.” His expression is less than impressed. I frown at him. “You don’t like the city?”

  “No.” After a long moment of silence he adds, “What is it you do, Alyson? What did you do before coming here?”

  As he turns the conversation back to me, my insides tighten. “I was…sort of in between things,” I say and leave it at that. “So, what’s next?” I ask and focus on the udder.

  The man beside me is smart, smart enough to realize I’ve redirected. Leaving my secrets to me, he grips the teat. “You hold your thumb and index finger here, like this,” he says, instructing me. “You don’t yank, but you pull gently. Watch how I do it.” Milk squirts into the tin bucket, and I smile, appreciating his help. He does it a few more times, and I study him carefully. “Not so bad, huh?”

  “Can I try?”

  My enthusiasm seems to surprise him, judging by the widening of his eyes and the raising of his brow. “Yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  He shifts his stool over, and I grip the bottom of mine to better position myself, but my stupid heel twists, and I fall forward and crack my knee on the barn floor and my face on Sidney’s side. She moos at me.

  “Ouch,” I whine, as pain shoots through me.

  Strong hands wrap around my waist and lift until I’m back on my stool. “Are you hurt?”

  His gaze moves over my skinned knee, but it’s hard to think as his scent lingers before my face. The open air, fresh soap…man. I work to ignore the heat settling between my legs.

  “Just my pride, not that I really have any left.” I snort. “In the twenty-four hours I’ve known you, I’ve fallen into the water, face-planted in the mud, and fallen off a milking stool three apples high. I guess you’ve now officially seen me at my worst.” A grin flirts with the corner of his mouth and arouses me in ways my body refuses to ignore. But ignore it I must. “This…this you find funny?” I roll my eyes. “Farmers have the weirdest sense of humor.”

  “If this is your worst, I can’t even imagine your best,” he says, his voice low and a bit gruff.

  Good lord, girl, no need to get all tingly inside because he said something nice.

  “Did you just compliment me?”

  “What, you’re not used to compliments?” His brow raises. “I somehow doubt that. I’m sure you get numerous compliments in the run of a day, Alyson.”

  When are you going to do something with your life?

  When are you going to focus on one thing?

  Why are you bothering with this farming nonsense?

  “Yeah,” is all I say, my stomach now tight.

  He nods and puts his hands on his thighs, like he’s about to push to a stand. “We need to clean that knee when we’re done here, and we need to get you out of Jack’s clothes.”

  Ah, did he just say we needed to get me naked?

  “Excuse me?”

  His body tenses. Yup, that’s right, Jay. That came out all kinds of wrong. But hearing him say we need to get me out of Jack’s clothes does make me want to strip down to nothing.

  Focus, Alyson.

  “I just mean, you need clothes that fit. And pants. Yeah, you need pants so something like this doesn’t happen again, and boots, too.”

  “I know what you mean, and hopefully my luggage arrives today,” I say and mentally go over what I packed. Truthfully, I have shorts and T-shirts, but they’re kind of fancy for farm work, now that I see what’s to be done. How could I have been so naive?

  “Okay, let’s try this again,” I say and wrap my fingers around Sidney’s teat. A smile tears across my face when I squirt milk into the bucket on my first try. I’m a natural cow milker. Who knew? Maybe this is my calling.

  “You’re a fast learner,” Jay says, and that simple compliment does ridiculous things to me.

  Confidence boosted and body on hyperdrive from Jay’s close proximity, I continue to fill the bucket and say, “Thanks.” Jay goes quiet beside me as I work, and I turn to him. “You’re right, though, this isn’t so bad.”

  His cocky grin teases all my girly parts. “Having the time of your life, are you?”

  “Hey,” a voice says from behind. I turn and see a shorter and younger version of Jay standing in the doorway, sunlight streaming over his body. I can only assume it’s Tyler. He scratches his head, his mannerisms much like his older brother’s.

  “You’re up,” Jay says as he pushes to his feet.

  “Can’t get anything by you,” he jokes and looks around Jay’s shoulder to grin at me. “Hey neighbor,” he says, his smile widening. “Jay and I were hoping a hot girl was going to move in next door.”

  Jay shakes his head. “Really, Tyler?”

  “What?” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he comes closer.

  “I never said anything about a hot girl,” Jay says. “Leave me out of this.”

  Tyler steps around Jay. “It’s Alyson, right?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I’m Tyler. The younger and better-looking version of Jay here.”

  “You mean younger and more annoying,” Jay says, turning to face us.

  Tyler ignores his brother and takes in my shirt and heels. “That looks much more comfortable than the blanket you were in yesterday.”

  Embarrassment floods me. “You…saw me?”

  “He doesn’t miss a thing,” Jay says with a scowl.

  “Have you warmed up since your dip?” Tyler asks.

  Jay folds his arms. “Can we help you with something?”

  Tyler moves to the other side of Sidney. He puts his hand on her back, and she moos and rubs her face against him. “Hey, girl,” he says, then shoots Jay a look. “I’m here to teach Alyson how to milk Sidney,” Ty responds, before winking at Jay. “But I can see you’ve got everything under control, big brother.”

  “Ty—”

  “Hey, Alyson, do you have any younger sisters?”

  “Sorry to disappoint, but no,” I say. “Only child.”

  “Why don’t you go take care of the pigs and check on Barack and Freddy?” Jay suggests. “And grab some fresh eggs and put them on Alyson’s counter.”

  “Sure thing, big bro.” He tosses a long strand of hay into his mouth and twirls it with his
teeth. “I’ll be around if you need me,” Tyler says, his gaze directed at me.

  “She won’t need you,” Jay says, his brow raised like he’s giving his brother some kind of warning, which Tyler seems to ignore. I think I might love their relationship.

  “Of course not. Not when she has you.” Tyler fists his hands. “I’ll leave you two to…” His words tail off as he bumps his fists together.

  After he walks away, Jay curses under his breath and pinches his eyes shut. “That kid is going to be the death of me.” He laughs. It’s low and deep, and pleasure washes through me. Jeez, what the hell is wrong with me? When was the last time a man’s voice made me tingle?

  Oh, never.

  “He’s sweet,” I say.

  “You’re a farmer now, Alyson. You have to tell me the truth. He’s a smart-ass, admit it.”

  “I am telling you the truth.” I remove the nearly full bucket out from underneath Sidney. “What did he mean by bumping his fists together?”

  “You don’t want to know,” he says quickly and dumps the milk from the small bucket into the one with the paint strainer, but then realization hits. Holy crap. Tyler is talking about us…having sex.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

  Damn, I thought about it.

  A strange, sexually frustrated laugh gurgles in my throat. Cripes, get it together girl. You are not here to indulge in a brief fling. Not that there is anything wrong with that; it’s just not me. But Jay here, well, he makes me want to be that girl.

  “You’re right; he is a smart-ass,” I say.

  “Every time he opens his mouth, manure spills out. I just need to keep him on the straight and narrow and get him through his senior year unscathed. He’s giving me a run for my money, though.” He shakes his head, but there is a deep sadness about him. “I don’t know how my father ever put up with me.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t that bad. How could you be? Look at you now. You’re a good big brother.” I’ve never really had to be responsible for anyone but myself, and I admire the way Jay cares for his family. It can’t be easy on him. Does he also have a wife to take care of? Or maybe he’s still single. He’s not wearing a ring, but that doesn’t really mean anything.