The Burbs and the Bees

by Cathryn Fox

  “Mom is a pack rat. I’m going to see if she has a pair of Beck’s or Tyler’s old boots in the barn. They might still be a little big, but you can’t put your shoes on again.”

  “I appreciate that. I called the airline, and they still can’t find my luggage. I can only assume it’s gone for good. I hope the Trader Tim’s is still open. I was going to go straight there after work but thought it would be more fun to stir up an apiary.”

  He chuckles. “Should be open. Take a breath,” he commands softly, and when I do, he flicks another stinger from my body. Pain from the stings and pleasure from his touch dance over my flesh, and my knees weaken. “Easy,” he says and cups my hips. I lock my knees to right myself. “Do you want to sit?”

  “I’m okay,” I croak out. “Let’s just finish this.”

  “Just a couple more.” He moves me around and flicks the rest of the stingers out. “All done.” I’m about to bolt to the door but he stops me. “The stingers are gone, but we’re not finished. I need to clean the wounds.” He soaps up the cloth under hot water and lightly presses it to my sores. Damn, why does that feel so good? It’s a question I already know the answer to. Jay is a nice guy, and I’m super attracted to him. I just can’t act on it, though. “Do you have any acetaminophen?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “I have a bottle you can have.”

  He finishes cleaning me, and I follow him into his bedroom. He tugs a blue T-shirt from his dresser and a pair of sweats from his closet. “These aren’t your usual fashion, but they’re baggy so they shouldn’t rub up against your sores.” I take the clothes and hold them to my chest.

  “I appreciate all your help,” I say, and he points to the bed.

  “You want to…” He frowns.

  Oh, yeah, I want to.

  “Your feet,” he says. “I need you seated so I can take care of them.”

  “Right.”

  I slide onto his comfy mattress, and he comes back from the bathroom with a white tub of salve. “I make this using my honey,” he says, opening the lid to show me.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup, lots of antiseptic and antibacterial properties in honey.”

  “I’m impressed. You’re a man of many talents.”

  He drops to his knees, takes my feet in his hands, and, using slow circular motions that send my thoughts spiraling, he applies it gently. “I’d add some to your stings, but your clothes will stick to you. You can take this with you and use it before bed if you like.”

  “I like,” I say, and he chuckles. “You should bottle and sell this stuff.”

  “We do, in your market. It’s a popular item.”

  He opens his nightstand, and I catch sight of a velvet ring box as he reaches for a pill bottle. He shakes two into his palm and hands them to me. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water.

  “Thank you,” I say. I study him for a moment. If he’s so sure I’m going to bail, so hell-bent on seeing the tail end of me, why the heck is he helping? Seems to me like he wants this Bryce guy to take over the farm. He’s offered me his number a couple times already. Charlie Miller mentioned a local wanting to buy the place two seconds after I met him. I assume he was talking about Bryce, and I guess a lot of folks around here don’t think I belong. They’re not wrong.

  “So, um, I’m not keeping you from anything or anyone, am I?” I ask.

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” He stands, looks at my feet another second, and hands me a big pair of socks. “Wait here, okay. I’m going to check on a pair of boots for you.”

  His cell pings, and he tugs it from his back pocket. “Shit.”

  “Everything okay?” I ask, a stupid question judging by his reaction.

  “It’s my buddy Colin. He’s getting married next month. I’m the best man.” He puts his phone away. “I’ll be right back.”

  He hurries down the stairs and heads outside. I dress, tug on the socks, and take a fast glance at his nightstand. I’m curious about that box, but I’m not about to invade the man’s privacy. He seemed pretty adamant that he wasn’t married, engaged, or taken, and when I talked about being stabbed in the back, he went quiet. Has he loved and lost? I’m not sure, but his business is his, and mine is mine, so I am not going to give it another thought. I push up from his bed and carefully make my way down the steep steps, taking stock of his main level. Against one wall there is a small kitchen and table. On the other side of the room, there is a gray sofa, chair, TV, and Capone’s huge birdcage.

  “Hey, Capone,” I say and walk up to his cage.

  “Capone’s a catch,” he says, and I laugh. My God, if my friends could see me now, talking to a pool-house parrot, they’d think I’ve finally gone and lost it. But I frown as my thoughts go to my friends. I’ve not heard from a single one of them since I left, and Lucy hasn’t bothered to text me back.

  “So, Capone. What can you tell me about Jay?”

  “Jay’s an asshole.”

  I chuckle and tap his cage. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

  “Mom’s a peach.”

  “Who’s your mom?”

  “Mom’s a peach.”

  “I bet she is. Does that velvet box have something to do with her?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, footsteps sound on the floor behind me. I turn and find Jay standing there, a pair of boots in his hands. His face is serious, and his stone-cold expression chills the blood in my bones, making me feel like I’ve overstepped a boundary by asking Capone personal questions I have no business asking. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

  “His mother is gone,” he says.

  He holds the boots out, his hard gaze like a slap to the face. “I should, ah—” I begin. “Go, too?”

  Chapter Eight

  Jay

  My mood is pretty crappy by the time I make it to the community hall, knowing Colin is going to tear me a new one for being late. But what could I do? I couldn’t just leave Alyson with all those stings. While the farmer in me wouldn’t allow it, the man in me couldn’t turn his back on anyone in distress—even the sexy farmer next door I need to see fail.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Colin says when I push through the doors and let them bang shut behind me. I find him standing with his four groomsmen, but after taking one look at me, he comes close and put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Had some things to take care of,” I grumble, not wanting to talk, or even think, about Alyson. For the life of me, I can’t understand how she’s getting under my skin so fast. She’s so not my type. Not anymore anyway.

  His eyes narrow, and he looks me over. Sadly, there isn’t much I can keep from my best friend. “By things, I hope you mean your new neighbor.”

  Four other sets of eyes turn to me, and I greet the guys with a nod of the head. “I take it you’ve told them about her?”

  Colin gives my shoulder a squeeze. “She’s on everyone’s lips, dude.”

  “She’s not on mine,” I say quickly, a strange stab of possessiveness cutting into me. I chalk it up to the fact that she’s a lamb in a town full of hound dogs. If I had a sister, I’d protect her, too. Yeah, that’s all this is. I’m a protector at heart. My jealousy has nothing to do with wanting her for myself, goddammit.

  Colin smirks. How is he so good at reading my mind? “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t go for it.”

  “You know all the reasons.” I wipe my brow and change the subject. “It’s like five hundred degrees in here, bro.”

  Colin lets the subject drop, for now, and wedges the door open to get a breeze. “We don’t all live in air-conditioned comfort, pussy,” he says.

  “Hey, don’t be dissing pussy,” Matt says. “It’s only my favorite thing.”

  The others all jump in to agree—and yeah, that right there is why I feel pro
tective of the girl next door.

  “Can we get this over with?” I ask, and grumbles from the guys fill the community hall as they echo my sentiment. “I need a cold beer.”

  Colin scoffs. “We’re just getting started.”

  “You have too much time on your hands, my friend,” I say. My best friend teaches agriculture at the local community college and has his summers off. “Fine. One hour, then the beer is on me.” He pushes a bunch of buttons on the stereo system, and a Britney Spears song blares from a nearby speaker. I groan.

  “Seriously, dude?”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” he asks.

  “Yeah, scratch this dance number.”

  “No can do.” He waves a finger at me. “What Sara wants, Sara gets.”

  I shake off my bad mood. It’s not Colin’s fault my dick can’t stop thinking about Alyson’s naked body. When her nipples swelled, it was all I could do not to bend her over and take her right there, in front of Capone. Wouldn’t that give him something to talk about. But seriously, the softness of her flesh, the sweet, natural smell of her skin, was a fast reminder that I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. But getting mixed up with the girl I’m hell-bent on sending home isn’t a good idea. Nope, not a good idea at all.

  Right?

  Fuck me.

  “Okay, so I thought we’d start out with this move,” Colin says and does some spinning motion that’s probably going to make me fall flat on my face and put out an eye. I mean, it’s all fun and games until someone puts out an eye, right? Unlike my best friend, I don’t have any good moves, at least not on the dance floor.

  For the next half hour, the guys and I all try to follow along, and I struggle not to trip over my feet as we dance to the ridiculous pop song. Needing a cold beer, and an even colder shower—for reasons that have nothing to do with this dance routine—I wipe my brow and glance up when movement near the door catches my attention. I nearly bite off my tongue when I find Alyson standing there in my clothes, holding back a laugh.

  “Shit,” I grumble and motion for Colin to kill the music. I make my way across the floor.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your”—she glances past my shoulders—“all-boys-club dance troupe? Or boy band, maybe?” she teases, and I sense she’s trying to lighten things up after I nearly bit her head off earlier. “Good thing NSYNC broke up. I have a feeling you guys would give them a run for their money.” She looks around again. “Who’s the lead singer?”

  “Funny.” I lean against the doorjamb and rub the hem of my shirt between my finger. My clothes are huge and hanging off her body, but seeing her in them messes with me a little bit. Or a lot. “You’re still in my clothes.”

  There’s mischief in her big blue eyes when she says, “Look at that, and here I accused you of not being clever.”

  “Smart-ass,” I say, but I like her humor. It’s a nice break from my hum-drum routine. Wait, I like my hum-drum routine, thrive on it, right? “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “I heard music and laughter so I walked over.”

  “That wasn’t laughter, that was me groaning in pain.”

  She grins and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “I went to Trader Tim’s, but the store was closed. If I hadn’t wasted all that time getting stung, I might have made it on time.”

  I check my watch. “Shit. Olivia closes up at six on Sundays. I forgot.”

  “I’ll try again tomorrow. On Monday, the farm opens later in the morning.”

  “I know,” I say.

  She laughs and it curls around me, seeps under my skin, massages my swelling dick.

  “Of course you do,” she says. I look her over, check out her face and lips, and look for any delayed reactions. Rare, but it can happen up to ten days after a sting. I’m going to have to keep a close eye on her.

  Yeah, like that’s the real reason you want to keep her in your crosshairs, dude. And I doubt she’ll still be here in ten days.

  “How are you feeling?” She left in a hurry after I returned with the boots. Probably because I was a little gruffer than I should have been, and of course, I did tell her to go. Just hearing her ask Capone about his mother—Juanita—caught me off guard and put me on the defense. She didn’t deserve that. She doesn’t know my past, just like I don’t know hers, and it’s best that way.

  “What exactly is going on here?” She looks past my shoulders again.

  “Colin’s fiancée wants a surprise dance.” I do air quotes around surprise.

  “Oh, I get it. She really wants it, but it’s going to be a surprise, even though she expects Colin to do it for her.”

  “Nailed it.”

  “That sounds like fun,” she says, and for the first time I spot genuine delight in her eyes.

  “Then you obviously don’t know what fun is,” I grumble.

  “I know how to have fun.”

  “Well, that makes one of us,” I say, and she gives me an odd look.

  “Who’s choreographing the dance for you?”

  “Colin, and he has no idea what he’s doing.”

  She nibbles her bottom lip, and her eyes keep darting from me to the guys, then back to me. “What?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I can help. If you’d like.”

  I cross my arms and lean against the doorjamb. “What do you know about any of this?”

  She glances at the ground for a moment, but when her gaze lifts and slides to mine, there is a new brightness, a new sense of hope in her blue eyes. “Lots actually. I did dance lessons for years, and I used to help with the choreography. I kind of had a knack for it.”

  “Maybe the better question is, why would you want to help?” I ask, treading lightly because for some reason, I don’t want to be the guy to squash that small measure of enjoyment radiating off her.

  “You helped me today. Maybe this is a way I can give back.”

  Oh, but there are so many other ways she could give back.

  “Hey, Colin,” I say and wave him over. “You remember Alyson.”

  “Alyson,” he says and tips his ball cap. “Nice to see you again.”

  “She’s offering to help,” I tell him.

  “Is that right?” he says and folds his arms, matching my stance. “Now why would you want to do that?”

  “I don’t know… I just…”

  She frowns and my stomach tightens. “Because it’s something she knows,” I say, sensing she’s doing this more for herself than for us. I slap Colin on the back. “And we need all the help we can get.” I should probably be keeping my distance from her, but for some odd reason, this is important to her, although for the life of me, I can’t understand why. My gaze roams her face. Who was she, and what did she do, before coming here? I shouldn’t want to know, shouldn’t get any more involved than I already am. I can’t forget her days here are numbered.

  Then why are you, dude?

  She beams up at me, then stifles a yawn. “I can work on the choreography tonight.” She crinkles her nose. “Does it have to be a Britney Spears song?”

  “I only picked it because I did a Google search and it seemed popular,” Colin says.

  “A Google search, huh?” Alyson says and turns to gives me a grin. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

  Colin looks at her like he has no idea what she’s talking about, but shrugs and says, “I’m not stuck on this song. If you have something better, I’d love to hear it. I just want to make my girl happy.”

  “That’s sweet,” she says, a small smile on her mouth as her eyes glaze over. That’s an awful dreamy look for a girl who says she’s not interested in a relationship or marriage.

  “Sweet enough to give me a damn toothache,” I say and shake my head.

  Her eyes light up. “Speaking of sweet, I think I have the perfect song,” she says,
blinking her focus back, and for the first time since I’ve met her, confidence radiates in her eyes. It looks good on her. “When do you guys meet again?”

  “Next Sunday night,” Colin supplies and gives me a look that suggests it will be a miracle if she’s here much past that, and I have to agree. “The wedding is in a month.”

  She taps her chin and looks around. “With what I saw here, we’re going to need a ton of practice.”

  “Hey, I take offense to that,” I say and pull myself up to my full height.

  She pokes my chest, and I wish she hadn’t. The warmth of her touch seeps into my skin, and I step closer, crowd her as Colin walks away to shut things down for the night.

  “You, my friend, shouldn’t take offense,” she says.

  “Oh, we’re friends now?”

  “All I’m saying is helping a neighbor is what people around these parts do, and since I’m now a farmer, and you’re my neighbor…”

  I lean toward her, crowd her, and note her fast intake of breath. I’m playing with fire here, and I damn well know it. “How are you going to help me, Alyson?”

  She blinks up at me, a hint of color moving into her cheeks. “We can start with a few private dance lessons, to get you up to speed.”

  Damn if I don’t know how I want those lessons to end.

  “I’m not a professional,” she says, plucking at her shirt. “But after years of lessons, I can show you all the moves.”

  My heart pounds double time. If she weren’t so sweet, innocent, and naive, I’d think she was talking about something else entirely. Then again, I caught her checking me out a time or two. Pretty sure she caught me, too. Maybe Colin is right. Maybe I should have some fun with the new girl while she’s here. We both made it clear we’re not looking for anything, but the electricity between us is palpable.

  “About earlier,” I begin. Obviously she saw the ring box. It’s not that I keep it there as a reminder or that I’m walloying in self-pity. No, it’s a family heirloom. I tried to give it back to Mom, but she told me to keep it. “I didn’t mean to go on the defense like that. It’s just—”