The Burbs and the Bees

by Cathryn Fox

  I laugh at that, and our knuckles brush. “I can’t wait to hear.”

  “Now go.” She gives me a shove, and as she heads back to her market, I steal another glance at her. Dad really would have liked this one. She might come from a different world, but she fits in here, is really trying to be one of us. Not only is she a beautiful woman on the outside, she’s beautiful on the inside. I exhale loudly. Somehow, some way in the last few weeks, this city girl crawled past my defenses and embedded herself straight into my heart.

  I am so screwed.

  I stare at her until she’s out of sight and then head toward my customers. I can’t seem to wipe the goofy grin off my face when I reach my mother.

  “Looks like you have a busy day ahead of you,” she says. I nod. “Alyson is proving to be quite the woman.”

  “She’s something,” I agree.

  Mom looks up at me for a moment. “Maybe she’ll be here for Colin’s wedding after all.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say. “Mom,” I begin, then shut my mouth. I want to tell her about the bet, but what can she do? An apple pie isn’t going to fix the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

  “You know what you have to do,” Mom says and my gaze jerks to hers.

  “What?”

  She goes quiet for a moment, then nods to the customers. “Go meet everyone. Talk about farming.”

  “Right,” I say but have the sneaking suspicion she was talking about something else altogether.

  I walk to the crowd, and for the rest of the day, I teach people, young and old alike, how to remove cornstalks, and we talk about farming before I send them to Alyson’s farm to pick up more goodies.

  By the time the last car rolls from the parking lot, dusk is upon us, and all I can think about is getting Alyson into my arms and thanking her for this. My stomach grumbles as I head to my cottage for a shower. I feed Capone and order a pizza to be delivered to Alyson’s place. I hurry to her house and find her at the barn, getting the animals locked in for the night.

  “How did it go?” she asks, her face lit under the rising moon.

  “Thank you,” I say and pull her into my arms. I kiss her with all the need and passion inside me, and when we break apart, I spend the next ten minutes telling her about my day, talking nonstop, until she’s laughing. We reach her front door, and she cups my face and goes up on her toes to press her lips to mine.

  “You are most welcome, my friend,” she says, but those words feel like a hard kick to the nuts. Man, I really want to tell her what she means to me, and now she’s calling me friend. She angles her head, looks me over, and I try not to look as fucked over as I feel. “You okay?”

  “Just tired,” I hedge. Christ, I’m not about to come out and say how I feel now, not after she called me friend.

  She stifles a yawn. “I know all about that.”

  Her stomach takes that moment to grumble. “Want to head to town and get a bite?”

  “I ordered pizza. You okay with that?”

  She visibly relaxes. “More than okay. I’m too tired to go out, actually.”

  “Let’s get you in the shower.”

  “You won’t be joining me?”

  “As tempting as that is, pizza is on its way,” I say, needing a moment alone to pull myself together.

  Inside the house, she disappears upstairs, and I take out two plates and two wineglasses. I uncork a bottle and pour a splash into our glasses, my thoughts a chaotic mess. By the time she comes down, dressed in nothing but a thin robe, one that comes to mid thigh, our delivery driver is at the door, preventing me from ravishing her.

  She makes a move to get the pizza, and I take her by the shoulders and push until she’s in her chair. I’ve never seen her run off her feet so badly. “Wait here.”

  I come back with the pizza, and she’s sipping her wine. She giggles. “This is going straight to my head.”

  I set the box on the table, and she inhales when I open it. “That’s because you probably didn’t stop for lunch, did you?”

  “No, Saturdays are crazy around here. Does it ever lighten up?”

  “The market closes in October, but that’s during harvest. Once that’s done, work to prepare the orchard for winter happens, and things slow down a bit after that. But then there’s snow clearing and things like that.” I set a slice of pizza on her plate, and she rubs her hands together, her stomach grumbling louder. “Hey, maybe when the market settles down you can write that book you talked about.”

  Her head lifts, and I note the tired smudges under her eyes. “I’ve been giving that a lot of thought, actually.”

  “You think it might be something you could stick to? Maybe that will get your people off your back.”

  “Once I do thirty days here, they’ll be off my back,” she says, nibbling on her pizza.

  I sit up a little straighter. What did she just say? Does she know about the bet? “What do you mean?” I ask, working to sound casual.

  She sets her pizza down and picks at the crust. “You see, Jay. I told you before, no one really believes in me. I’ve never given them a reason to. I also told you I’m a trust-fund baby, right?”

  “Yeah.” My stomach knots, not at all sure where this conversation is going, but I get the sense I’m not going to like it.

  “Well, Dad pays my rent, and my money basically comes from odd jobs. I tend to go from one thing to another. My father won’t sign my trust fund over until he’s sure I’m on the path to success. That was a big reason I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I’m still on his insurance, and when he sees the bill, he’s going to know I’m failing.”

  Tension coils in my stomach. “You’re not failing; you just got hurt.”

  “That’s not how he’d see it, though.” She pushes back in her chair. “But this,” she says, her gaze moving around the old farmhouse, “coming here was my chance to prove I could do something for more than thirty days. If I don’t succeed, then he doesn’t sign the trust fund over. This is my last chance. He told me I was wasting time and money, and I begged to differ. In the end, I agreed that if I couldn’t make this work, I couldn’t make anything work, and the money gets absorbed into my father’s estate.”

  “Wait, when we first met, you told me you probably wouldn’t make it through the night. You said you didn’t belong here.”

  “I agreed that I probably wouldn’t stay through the night, and what I said was, ‘I realize you don’t think this is where I belong.’”

  I wrack my brain, struggle to recall her exact words. When I can’t find them, I say, “You led me to believe you weren’t staying.”

  “I know. I didn’t see the point in arguing it with you. Why bother trying to convince you? You saw me for what I was—a spoiled, rich city girl.”

  “Jesus,” I say and scrub my chin.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Only everything.

  “Nothing,” I blurt out and take a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate.

  She gives a big sigh. “I never used to know what I wanted to do with the money, but now…” She sits up a little straighter, a new light in her eyes. “Jay, I finally know. This is the most important job I’ve ever done, in more ways than one.” Her eyes get bigger and her voice gets louder as she continues, “I could invest in this farm, this community, in grass-fed animals and sustainability. I think this might actually be my passion, Jay, and in the winter, I could write that book.”

  Equal amounts of excitement and worry hit at the same time. I open my mouth, only to close it again. How the hell can I tell her it’s a good idea? How can I not? She spent a lifetime searching for her passion, trying to stick to something, trying to prove her worth. If she leaves before the thirty days, it will come at a great cost to her, and I’m not just talking about losing her trust fund. I’m talking about losing all the confidence she’s gained here, t
he belief in herself.

  “What do you think?” she asks, her voice wavering as I sit here in silence.

  Jesus Christ, I need to tell her. Everything. From how I bet against her to how I fell for her. She’s come to mean so much to me. She’s so much more than a pampered city girl. She’s strong, independent, and caring. The fact that she made today happen for me speaks so much of her character. But if I tell her all that, she’ll hate me. Of that I’m sure. I did the one thing she said she always hated.

  I looked for the worst in her and expected nothing less.

  She keeps blinking up at me with hopeful eyes, and I hate myself so much, I just don’t know what to say. Christ, if I could take my ass outside and give it a beatdown, I would in a second because no matter how I shape my next words, even if I wrap them in an apology, she’s going to end up hurt, and hurting her is the last thing I want to do. I had so many preconceived notions about her the first time I set eyes on her, but she’s been proving over and over that perhaps a leopard can change its spots.

  “You’re not selling to Bryce?” I blurt out without thinking. “That could make up for losing your trust fund.”

  What the hell am I saying?

  Her smile slowly fades, her excitement morphing into something else—something that stems from pain, and regret…a lifetime of believing she isn’t enough, of being told she isn’t. But she is enough, and she damn well needs to know that. I open my mouth again but slam it shut when a loud knock sounds on her door. She lifts her head, glances past my shoulders.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Alyson

  I jump from my chair, and it nearly topples backward as my gaze goes from the front door to Jay back to the door again. Jay slowly turns, his brow furrowed in confusion, not that I can blame him. I’m as jumpy as Cluck at the crack of dawn.

  “What’s going on?” he asks, turning to see a man dressed in a suit and a woman with a flamboyant hat on—clearly not from around here—both staring at us through the window.

  “My folks.” My stomach clenches. Dammit, I never should have gone to the hospital, and I should have answered their phone calls instead of texting back. No doubt my lack of communication has worried them, and they jumped on the next plane to check up on me. The last thing I need is for them to see me with Jay, dressed in a skimpy robe, no less. I know what they’d think—that I wasn’t taking any of this seriously. That I’m still just a party girl with no focus. I gesture to the back door. “Maybe you should…”

  His muscles ripple as he squares his shoulders. “Maybe I should what?”

  God, how can I explain this without sounding like I’m embarrassed by him? “My folks. You. Me. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

  He angles his head and grips the back of his neck. “You want me to sneak out the back door?”

  “I just… If they see you here, they’ll think…”

  “They’ll think what?” He jumps from his chair so fast, it tumbles backward and clatters to the floor.

  “They’ll think—”

  Before I can tell him that they’ll think I flaked out again, that I’m here just partying with the hot honeybee farmer, and that I didn’t succeed at this on my own—which I didn’t, because I couldn’t have done any of this without the help from my neighbors—my door opens.

  “Were you not going to invite us in?” Dad says in a joking manner that belies the stern look on his face. My stomach tightens even more, and I mentally prepare myself for one of his lectures.

  “Sorry, I was just—”

  “Hello,” my father says, turning his attention to Jay. “Who might you be?”

  “Richard, is that any way to greet your daughter?” My mom steps around him and opens her arms to me. “Darling, I’ve missed you.”

  My gaze travels back to Jay, and he scrubs his chin as my mother embraces me.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mom.”

  “Mr. Reid,” Jay says, holding his hand out. “I’m Jay. Alyson and I are…” His words trail off, like he’s waiting for me to finish the sentence, but my brain is spinning on hyperdrive and can’t slow enough to focus on one thought. An awkward moment passes, and his shoulders slump when he finishes, “…friends.”

  I search his face, hoping he’s only saying that because he can read me and understands what’s really going on here. Yes, I get that I called him a friend earlier, but he’s so much more to me than that, and I was hoping I was more to him. This last week, everything in his touch, the way he looked at me, spoke of something deeper. My God, I need to talk to him, but with my parents standing over me, judging as always, now is not the time or place.

  “Yeah, we’re friends. He’s my neighbor. He runs a farm and an apiary,” I say.

  “Oh, well, then, if you don’t mind,” my dad begins, dismissing Jay like he’s nobody. “We traveled from New York to… Wait, what is the name of this place again?” He makes a face and glances around.

  “Farmington,” Jay supplies.

  “Here I thought it was called the middle of nowhere.” My father gives a derisive snort, and I open my mouth to correct him, to tell him Farmington is unlike any other place on earth. It’s freaking God’s country. But Jay speaks first.

  “It’s the middle of nowhere to some, but I happen to like it here.”

  “I can’t see why.”

  Jay stares at my dad for a second, standing so still, I’m not even sure he’s breathing, but then he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I suppose you wouldn’t,” he says, giving up the fight, like arguing with a born and bred city person is a waste of his time because a leopard can never change its spots.

  Is that what he thinks of me?

  “Thanks for today,” he says, his dark eyes zeroing in on me and lingering a moment.

  “What happened today?” my father asks.

  Before I can explain, Jay walks to the back door and disappears outside. I call out after him, “Thanks for the pizza.”

  The door slams shut, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Maybe I should go after him. Obviously, we need to talk. I’m in love with a man who just called me a friend, whom I called a friend because I wanted him to correct me, to tell me we were more.

  But what if I’m wrong?

  What if I’m nothing more to him? But I have to be. Everything in his touch told me I was. Maybe he just needs to hear it first. He was hurt by Juanita. She was a city girl, like me. Maybe he’s afraid of admitting his feelings because he’s afraid of me bailing, too. God, we really need to talk. Like yesterday.

  My father pulls out a chair. “Marie, why don’t you put on a pot of tea while I talk to Alyson and find out what she’s been up to?”

  Mom reaches for the kettle, and I slowly lower myself into my chair. Lord, I hate it, hate the way my dad is looking at me, like he expects me to cave and beg to come back home. I square my shoulders and lift my chin a little higher.

  “I love it here. I want to stay,” I say.

  He gives a slow nod of his head, disbelief swimming in his eyes. “Really now?”

  I press my hands to the table, flatten them. “Yes, really.”

  “For another week or for good?” he asks.

  “For good.”

  Mom crosses the room, her lips twisted. “Honey, no, you can’t move here. It’s too far away, and there’s nothing here for you.”

  I hope she’s wrong about that. I hope Jay and his family are here for me.

  “I love it here, Mom.”

  “Alyson,” my dad begins. “Give up this charade. Come home.”

  A hot stab of anger pierces my heart. “It’s not a charade. I’m happy here.” God, I hate that he doesn’t believe me or believe in me. The only man in my entire life who had faith in me just walked out my back door. I need to fix things with him, but with my parents here, I can’t jus
t run after him and blurt out my feelings.

  “You’re doing this to claim your inheritance; go ahead and admit it.”

  “Richard, leave the poor girl alone. Alyson, come back. You can do volunteer work with me.”

  I press my fingers to my temples, a headache brewing. “Mom, please.”

  “Are you not well?” she asks. “You’re awfully pale.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “We got the hospital bill,” Dad states, like the white sheet of paper was my surrender flag.

  “I had a fall. I’m fine.”

  Mom stares at me for a moment and then says, “I’ll make some hot cocoa.”

  “I don’t want hot cocoa.”

  Mom searches my cupboard for cocoa, but I don’t have any. “Your cupboards are bare, honey.”

  “I have enough to get by.” My father is watching me carefully. “What?” I ask.

  He leans forward as mom drops a tea bag into the pot she’d fished out of the cupboards. “Tell me why you think you like it here so much. Does it have anything to do with the farmer next door? You know that’s not a reason to make a big life decision, Alyson. Look what happened with Bradley.”

  He’s right. It’s not, especially if I pack up my life and move here only to discover Jay and I don’t want the same things. Again, all the more reason we need to talk, and it should have happened long before now. I was just too afraid of rejection, I guess.

  For the next couple of hours, I sit with my parents at the table, bragging up Farmington and telling them everything I’ve been doing. I also told them I’d been helping with Colin’s wedding and learning about sustainability, how to process milk and honey, and what needs to be done for fall harvest. At first, my dad is skeptical, but something in his expression changes, morphs from disbelief to acceptance as I ramble on with enthusiasm.

  “You really do like it here, don’t you?” he asks.

  “I’m not doing it for the trust fund, Dad.” He smiles at me and gives a slow nod.

  “I’m proud of you, Alyson.”

  My insides soar, but deep down, I know it’s not his praise or approval I’ve been after all these years; it’s my own. I’m damn proud of myself. Damn proud to do a good hard day’s labor and fall asleep at night exhausted and knowing I’m being a productive member of society. My chest swells with the pride I have in myself.