Blue Ridge Sunrise

by Denise Hunter

  As she contemplated the scenery she bit her lip. Her lower lip was plump, and the natural pink color needed no lipstick.

  He could think of something to do all right.

  Her lips tugged upward as she turned toward him. “You’ve sure got your work cut out for . . .” The smile slid from her lips. Something shifted in her eyes.

  He couldn’t look away if he tried. Did she know she made his heart stutter in his chest? That he thought about her every night as he lay in bed? That he dreamed of sifting her hair with his fingers, caressing her lips with his own?

  He hadn’t realized how close they were. He could almost feel her breath on his lips. And suddenly almost wasn’t enough. Drawn by some magnetic force, he leaned closer, touching his lips to hers. Soft. Impossibly soft.

  Impossibly unsure. Was he her first? He could hardly breathe at the thought. Could hardly think past the emotions rolling through him. A niggle of guilt surfaced but he pushed it back, sweeping his lips over hers again.

  She responded more boldly this time. She cupped his jaw, a feather-light touch that shook him to the core.

  Her response made him heady with want of her. He couldn’t stop his fingers from threading into her hair. It was as soft as he’d dreamed. Like fine silk. Her scent wrapped around him like a warm embrace, pulling him closer.

  His blood buzzed in his veins. It grew louder until the sound pulled him from his dream. Until he realized it wasn’t his blood buzzing, but her phone.

  Reality calling.

  The reality that included her brother and their gap in ages and walks of life. An image of her dad surfaced, disapproval in his eyes as he looked down his nose at Cruz. Zoe was destined for big things. He was not.

  He eased away, watching, mesmerized, as her eyes fluttered open. As raw emotions flickered in those hooded green depths. As the stirrings of want—for him—faded into wonder, then confusion.

  He’d done the impossible: rendered her speechless.

  What had he been thinking? She was still Brady’s little sister. The one he’d been entrusted to look out for. Oh, he was looking all right.

  Idiot.

  He eased away, putting much-needed space between them. Pressed his back to the seat and knotted his hands before he could do something stupid like touch her again.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  She looked into his eyes for a long moment, warmth leaching from her expression. “Sorry?”

  The phone was still buzzing, and he latched onto the distraction like a drowning victim to a life preserver. “You should answer that.”

  She blinked at him, then pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the screen.

  Before she could answer, it stopped ringing. Her hand fell to her lap, the phone in it. “What . . . what was that, Cruz? Why did you kiss me?”

  He gave a wry laugh. Oh, the answers to that question. They’d knock her on her backside so fast she wouldn’t know what hit her.

  “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, followed quickly by a sheen of tears.

  A vise tightened around his heart.

  “Quit saying that,” she said.

  He looked away, couldn’t stand to see the hurt he’d put there. Needed to put an end to what he’d started.

  ¡Estúpido!

  He swallowed hard, tried for a casual tone. “You’re a cute girl, that’s all. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  He thought he might die in the long stretch of silence that followed. He ran his palms down the length of his thighs and made a study of the view out the windshield.

  “A cute girl,” she repeated.

  He steeled himself against the tightness in her voice and drove in the final nail. “That’s the thing about guys, Zoe. We’re pretty much a bunch of jerks. You should learn it now while you’re still young.”

  A flush bloomed on her cheeks, and her shoulders stiffened as she nailed him with a look. “Finally, something we agree on.”

  After a weighted moment he reached for the key and turned it. The engine was loud in the quiet of the car. Heart beating up into his throat, he backed out to the road into the glaring sunlight.

  He wished he could turn back time. Maybe then he wouldn’t know the sweetness of Zoe’s lips. The impossible thrill of her response. The heavy burden of her pain.

  But the moment had happened, and now he’d spend a lifetime trying to forget.

  chapter ten

  Zoe didn’t like waking before dawn, especially during summer, but it was picking season, and picking was best done in the cool of the morning.

  A fog was hanging over the trees when she arrived at the orchard, and the air smelled of dew and earth. Toward the east the mountains rose majestically from the mist, and swaths of periwinkle and pink striped the sky. There was nothing like sunrise at Blue Ridge Farms.

  Granny was already at work with her crew. She perched on a ladder, wearing faded jeans and work boots, her upper body all but swallowed by the tree.

  The flatbed truck was parked in the middle, the plastic bins there waiting to be filled. Zoe greeted some of the crew—the ones she knew. The low murmur of voices and soft thump of the peaches as they were tossed into the bins broke the morning’s silence.

  Granny was humming her favorite song, “Sunday Sunrise,” as Zoe approached. The old Anne Murray song reminded her grandma of her late husband, and she hummed it often.

  “Morning, Granny.”

  Her grandma smiled over her shoulder. “Morning, sugar. Grab a bag and join the fun. The peaches are ripe unto harvest.”

  Zoe fetched a bag from the flatbed and slid the strap over her head, then joined Granny at the freestone tree where a ladder waited. She climbed up, reached for a peach, and twisted carefully, lifting it to her nose. She inhaled the sweet, familiar fragrance.

  “Aren’t they beautiful? Look at that nice rosy blush. It’s a good crop this year.”

  “They smell yummy.” Zoe bagged the peach and reached for another. “Can I come over Saturday to make a cobbler with you?” Nobody made a cobbler like her grandmother. Zoe could almost taste the sweet, plump peaches and buttery crust right now. Her stomach gave a twist.

  “If it’s all right with your folks.”

  “I’ll ask Mama to come too. It’ll be a girls’ day.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Morning, ma’am.”

  Zoe nearly tumbled from the ladder at the familiar deep voice. She turned to see Cruz Huntley standing there, his hands pressed deep into his pockets.

  “Morning,” Granny said. “You’re right on time. Just grab a bag over on the truck and join us. You need a refresher course?”

  “No, ma’am. I remember.”

  His eyes flickered off hers. He didn’t look very happy to see her. “Morning, Zoe.”

  She notched up her chin. “Morning.”

  Zoe watched him walk away, her heart thumping at a ridiculous rate. She looked back at her grandma, who’d already resumed picking as if she hadn’t just set Zoe’s world spinning.

  Granny was the only one who knew about her confusing feelings for Cruz. Who knew about the way he’d kissed her last fall, apologized, then gone on to ignore her for months. Zoe couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed.

  “What’s he doing here?” she whispered through the tree’s leafy branches.

  Granny didn’t even spare her a glance. “He needed the work, sugar.”

  “He works at the hardware store.”

  “Well, I guess he needed some pocket change then. He came to me a few weeks ago.”

  “You didn’t think to warn me?”

  “It’s a big orchard, dumpling.”

  She stared wide-eyed at her grandma, but before she could respond, Cruz approached, pulling a ladder up to the tree beside them. Right beside them!

  She gave Granny a flinty look, which the woman missed entirely.

  They picked in silence for a while, but Cruz’s presence had changed ever
ything. Instead of enjoying the peaceful waking of the day, the sights and smells and sounds of the orchard, Zoe was battling her thumping heart, spinning thoughts, and trembling hands.

  “Looks like a good crop this year, ma’am,” Cruz said as the sun was peeking over the distant hills.

  She hated that the very sound of his deep voice set her heart racing.

  “Oh, it is. This is the kind of crop that keeps me going.” Granny adjusted the weight of her strap. “How’s things going for you over at the hardware store?”

  “Pretty good. Working toward a promotion, in fact.”

  “That so. Well good for you.”

  “What about you, Zoe?” Cruz asked. “You going off to college in the fall?”

  She snapped a peach from the limb and placed it in her bag. “I don’t know yet.”

  She was in an epic fight with her dad over it. She wanted to pursue her music, and he wanted her in college studying prelaw. Her grandma was the only one who seemed to trust her with her own future, but that only put Granny at odds with Daddy too.

  When she didn’t expand on her answer, Granny stepped in. “She wants to run off and become a big star—and she could do it with that God-given voice of hers.”

  “No doubt. It’s a hard life though, Zoe. Why would you run off when you have all this?” Cruz held out his hands, palms up. “Good town, good roots, all this beautiful land . . .”

  Granny chuckled. “You’re a smart boy. Stick around a little longer, and I just might hire you right out from under Bud.”

  Zoe shot Granny a look as she descended the ladder. Her bag wasn’t quite full, but suddenly she couldn’t wait to empty it and find another tree to pick clean.

  chapter eleven

  It was three weeks before Zoe spoke to Cruz again. Oh, she saw him around the orchard, but she made sure she was picking far away from him. She saw him at the gas pump. She saw him across the church sanctuary. She saw him in the crowd at the Rusty Nail when she got to fill in as backup singer with Brevity. Saw him scowling up at her from his corner table.

  She managed to put him from her mind most of the time. She’d finally talked her parents into letting her take a year off school. They weren’t happy about it, but she mollified them by interning at her dad’s law office during the afternoons. On the weekends she volunteered at the animal shelter.

  It was there she met Brownley, an old coonhound someone had dumped on the side of the road. He had droopy brown ears and soulful eyes that lit up when Zoe reached for him. It was love at first sight. She talked her parents into letting her keep him, then took him to the vet only to find that Brownley had a gastrointestinal condition that would be fatal if he didn’t have surgery soon.

  But Zoe only had 220 dollars to her name, and her dad refused to help no matter how much she pleaded. He was on a mission to convince her she needed a college education, and apparently he thought this was a good time to make his case.

  So with Peach Fest just days away, Zoe hatched a plan to raise the money for Brownley’s surgery. She didn’t have anything to sell or enough time to bake a bunch of pies, and people weren’t going to pay her to sing. So she decided to open a kissing booth. Just a little peck for a good cause.

  On Saturday she set up among all the craft and game booths. She plastered her Save Brownley! sign to her booth façade and leashed the dog nearby in the shade for visual incentive. She hung her Kissing Booth sign and set her collection jar on the ledge. She was open for business.

  The smells of peach confections filled the air, making her stomach rumble. People milled about, visiting with neighbors and stopping to let their children play games that featured plastic rings, balls, and water-shooting guns. Down the alley carnival rides spun round and round, making riders shriek and laugh.

  She leaned on the window’s wooden ledge, trying to look enticing. The festival drew folks from all over the state, which was good, as she hoped not to kiss anyone she’d actually set eyes on again.

  At five dollars a kiss, it was going to take a lot of customers. And considering how little experience she’d had, it was probably a rip-off. It would all be worth it, though, if she could just raise enough money for Brownley’s surgery.

  Cruz was strolling down junk food alley when he saw her. He must have some kind of Zoe radar, because he always felt it when she was nearby. Nadine Morgan, who’d sidled up to him fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t left, casually brushed his hand again—probably hoping he’d take it. But she wasn’t his type, and he wasn’t about to lead her on.

  He tore his eyes from Zoe an instant before his brain registered the sign. They cut back, narrowing on the bold letters above her. He peered around the people blocking his vision—a line for her booth, he realized.

  What the . . .

  His jaw clenched as his feet halted in their tracks. Through the crowd he caught sight of some guy pushing a bill into the jar and leaning close to Zoe.

  His heart thrashed about in his chest, and the whoosh of pumping blood filled his ears. His feet cut a path through the crowd.

  “Wait up, Cruz . . .” He barely heard Nadine’s whiny voice.

  He was too busy grabbing the shirt of the guy who had his lips all over Zoe’s.

  “Hey . . . !” The guy stumbled backward.

  Cruz glared at Zoe, whose eyes had gone wide. Her lip color was smeared and her mouth was still damp from the kiss. He barely stopped himself from dragging his hand across her mouth. From wiping this guy and all the others away too.

  “I paid for that kiss,” the guy complained. He looked to be Cruz’s age, though he was a good four inches shorter.

  Cruz nailed him with a look. “And you got one. Now move along.”

  The guy slowly wilted under Cruz’s glare, then he straightened his shirt and sauntered off.

  Zoe planted her fists on her hips. “Get away from my booth.”

  It was bad enough he’d had to watch her make eyes at Kyle Jimmerson onstage. Bad enough he’d had to watch her go off to senior prom with Roland Henry. Now he was supposed to watch every randy guy in Murray County plaster his lips all over hers?

  “A kissing booth, Zoe? Really?”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “You’re scaring my customers away,” she hissed.

  “Good! Does your family know you’re doing this?”

  “I’m a legal adult. I don’t have to ask my parents’ permission to have a booth at the fair.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “You can take that as a none of your darned business!”

  “Did the festival committee approve this?”

  “Of course. I’m not stupid.”

  “Close up, Zoe. Now.”

  “You’re not the boss of me, Cruz Huntley.”

  “Hey . . . ,” someone behind him said. “We ain’t got all day. We want our turn.”

  Cruz shot the first guy in line a look meant to fry him on the spot. He looked away but didn’t leave the line.

  When Cruz looked back at Zoe, something had shifted in her eyes. She arched a brow. “Careful, Cruz. I might just start thinking you’re jealous.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “If you’re not going to kiss her, buddy, move along.”

  “Yeah, Cruz, are you going to kiss me?”

  His teeth locked together until his jaws hurt.

  Zoe looked over his shoulder, then crossed her arms and tilted her head at him. “Your date’s getting bored.”

  “She’s not my—” He huffed, deciding not to waste his breath. “I’m calling Brady.”

  She tipped her chin. “Go ahead. He’s working in Ellijay today. And I’m not closing shop till I raise the funds, so you can just mosey along.”

  He tore his gaze from her, and his eyes caught on a sign. Save Brownley! He scanned the paragraph below the header.

  A dog. She was selling her kisses for some stupid mutt. He saw said dog under a shade tree behind the booth, lying there all innocent-like, tongue lolling out, ears
drooping practically to the ground.

  “Move along, Cruz.”

  He noted the stubborn set of her jaw and the determination in her eyes. He knew that look. She wasn’t leaving unless he threw her over his shoulder. And as tempted as he was to do just that, he couldn’t babysit her all day. He had to be at work in an hour.

  He swore in Spanish and jerked the brim of his hat down, fixing her with a stony look.

  She watched him, eyes stubborn and wary at the same time until he turned on his heel and left.

  Her mind was on Cruz as she kissed her way through the short line. Sometimes the guys tried to deepen the kiss, but she just pressed her hands to their chests and gave them a gentle shove. “Your five dollars are up, bubba.”

  Overall her customers had been well behaved, the donations from the community generous. If she kept it up, she’d have what she needed by the end of tomorrow. She wilted a little at the thought of two days’ worth of kisses. Turned out these were nothing like the one she’d shared with Cruz. It was like comparing apples and oranges. Melba toast and warm peach cobbler.

  She forced a smile as her customer strutted away, glancing back with a wink.

  “Next!”

  A palm smacked the shelf.

  She jumped at the sudden sound and vibration.

  Cruz was in front of her, struggling to stuff a fat wad of bills through the jar’s slotted top, his eyes pinning her in place.

  “What are you doing?”

  His jaw was set, frown lines separating his dark brows, a thunderstorm brewing in his eyes as he glared at her without a word. He gave the wad a final shove and the bills fell through, fluttering open inside the jar.

  He grabbed her face in both hands and pulled her close, mashing their lips together.

  It was over before she could even close her eyes. She blinked against a wave of dizziness as she stared into his flinty eyes.

  “There. You’ve earned your money,” he said in a clipped tone she hardly recognized. “Now close up shop and go home.”

  Without looking away, he jerked the signs from her booth.