Chapter Fifteen
Simon could have gone on kissing her forever if his cell phone hadn’t buzzed.
“You’d better get that,” Apricot said, her cheeks pink, her lips rosy from his kiss.
“I can think of a few other things I’d rather do.” He pressed his lips to her nape, felt her pulse racing beneath the skin. His hand found its way to her thigh, and he ran his palm along the silky flesh, loving the feel of firm muscles and smooth skin.
His cell phone buzzed again, and he finally dragged it from his pocket, glanced at the number.
“Daisy,” he muttered.
“Of course,” Apricot responded, reaching down to grab the plate that had dropped onto the ground. She put it back in the basket, tossing the spilled crackers and cheese farther into the orchard. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“It can wait.”
“What if it’s something to do with the girls?”
“They’re at school. If something happened to them, the school would be calling.”
“But—”
“Tell you what,” he said, a little more sharply than he intended. “How about we forget Daisy? I want to have lunch with you, and I don’t want to think about her while I’m doing it.”
The orchard went dead silent, both of them sitting on the bench, tense and more than a little frustrated. His fault. Not Apricot’s, and it was his job to fix it.
“Sorry,” he finally said. “That came out more harshly than I intended. Daisy is becoming a problem, but that has nothing to do with you.”
“I think it probably does.” She handed him a slice of crusty bread smeared with jam. “She’s jealous. She wants you to herself, and she probably thought she was going to have you. Then I came along, and everything just kind of fell apart.”
“You said something similar to that yesterday. I don’t want to believe it anymore today than I did then,” he said, biting into the bread, the sweet, tart taste of the jam nearly making him moan. It was that good. “What kind of jam is this?”
“Huckleberry. I made it yesterday.”
“It’s good.”
“You can’t distract me with your compliments, Simon.”
“Can I distract you some other way?” he asked, purposely letting his gaze drop to her lips, to the tiny bit of jam in the corner of her mouth. He wiped it away with his thumb.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he responded, his blood pulsing like lava through his veins, his fingers trailing over smooth skin. He could feel her pulse thrumming just beneath the surface, let his palm sweep along the slender curve of her neck and settle at her nape. Her skin felt like warm silk, and he trailed his lips along the line of her jaw. “Can I distract you some other way?”
His cell phone buzzed again, and he wanted to take the thing and smash it against the nearest tree.
“You know what?” Apricot stood, her white sundress swishing around those beautiful thighs. “This really isn’t a good idea. You have a really busy life, and I have . . .” She gestured at the trees. “All this to get under control. This isn’t the right time to explore a relationship or walk down some path that’s supposed to lead to something wonderful.”
“That’s a cop-out, Apricot, and you know it.”
“So?” She grabbed both the baskets. “What if it is? I already made one colossal mistake in my life. I don’t want to make another one.”
“Another cop-out.” He was angry now, pissed because Apricot didn’t seem to have the guts to take a risk and because Daisy had interrupted a beautiful day and a pretty damn wonderful moment. Not once, but twice.
“No. It’s not. You’ve got a perfect life, Simon. Two beautiful girls, a sweet house and a nice job. You have a community that loves you and that you love. You don’t need me, and I’m not going to get into a position where I find myself needing you.”
“It isn’t about need. And having something good doesn’t mean that adding something else to it won’t make it better.”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I think our hour lunch break is up. I’m sorry you drove out here and didn’t even get to eat.”
Okay. Now he was really pissed. “I’m sorry that you’re too much of a coward to go after what you want.”
“I’m not a coward.” She huffed, her eyes blazing, her cheeks pink with annoyance and, maybe, embarrassment. “I’m cautious. There’s not a dang thing wrong with that.”
“There is if it keeps you from having what you want,” he responded.
She opened her mouth, snapped it shut again.
“At least you’re not going to lie and say you don’t want me,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket and stalking away. He had plenty to do. He didn’t need to waste his time arguing about something that shouldn’t need to be reasoned out or talked through. Not at this stage. Not when it was still so fragile and new.
“Sometimes the things we want aren’t the best things for us, Simon,” she said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear.
“And sometimes,” he responded, turning so that he was facing her again. “The things we want are.”
“Too bad we can’t see into the future. We’d be able to take the risk without worrying that we’re going to end up worse off than we were before we tried.” She lifted both baskets, her movements stiff and tight, her pretty little sundress fluttering. A breeze ruffled her hair, pushing a few short strands across her forehead.
“No one ends up worse off if he goes in with the right attitude. Today wasn’t about a lifetime commitment, Apricot. It was just about lunch with someone I’m interested in getting to know better. I’m not sure what it is about that that scares you.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Remember when I told you I only wanted to be in relationships that are built on honesty?” he snapped. “I meant it.”
“I’m not!” she protested, but she was lying and they both knew it.
“Tell you what, Apricot Sunshine. If you change your mind and decide we can both handle the truth, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll let you go on just the way you are, fixing up the orchard and dealing with your family and watching one day pass into another without more than a tiny little hiccup to make things difficult.”
“Simon—” She started to protest, but he wasn’t in the mood for listening, so he turned on his heels and walked away, walking through the gnarled apple trees, past the house where Lilac and Rose were snapping peapods on the back deck, and straight into his car.
He didn’t look back as he drove away, because he didn’t want to see what he’d almost had. Just like Apricot, he didn’t want drama in his life, but he’d have been willing to take a chance on it for her.
It was a helluva shame that she hadn’t felt the same.
His cell phone rang again as he sped toward Main Street.
Daisy again. He didn’t even have to look to know it. This time he answered. “What the hell is it this time, Daisy?” he barked.
“Simon! Language!”
“What. Do. You. Need.” He bit every word out.
There was a moment of silence. “I . . . well, I’m at the library. Jet is here.”
“And?”
“He’s watching me with an evil look in his eyes.”
“What exactly does that mean?” he growled, because, right at that moment, he didn’t have the patience for her high-strung nature.
“He had murder in his eyes, Simon,” she hissed. “I saw it as clearly as I see the sun shining outside my office window.”
“Did he approach you?”
“No.”
“Say anything to you? Imply in any way that he intended to do you harm?”
“No, but—”
“Then he has every right to be at the library,” he cut in, because he knew that but always led to twenty minutes of illogical reasoning.
“You don’t seem to understand.”
“I understand perfectly well. I think you’re the one who isn’t getting it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“People are talking, Daisy,” he responded, ready to go all out and say what needed saying. In for a penny, in for a pound, that’s what his grandmother always said. “They’re questioning your story.”
“What story?”
“They’re wondering if you really were mugged or if maybe you made the whole thing up.”
Silence. Not even a breath of air passing across the line.
“You still there, Daisy?”
“I’m . . . I can’t believe you would say something like that to me.”
“I’m not the one saying it. I’m just bringing it to your attention.”
“What you should be doing is defending me. I’m your wife’s sister. Your daughters’ aunt.”
“I’m well aware of who you are,” he muttered, pulling into the drive-through line at the local coffee shop.
“Well, then, why aren’t you jumping to my defense?”
Because I’m wondering too, he almost said. “What I’m doing is due diligence. I’m checking all the facts and trying to get them to line up. So far, they’re not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You were mugged in broad daylight in a well-traveled area, but not one person saw the attack.”
“It happened in an alley!” she cried, her voice shaky.
“An alley just about anyone can see into if they take the time to look.”
“It happened so fast. There wasn’t time for anyone to see it.” She was crying. He knew it, and he should have felt bad, but he was still mad as all get-out, and she was part of the reason for that.
“Maybe not, but people are wondering, and I think maybe you should take a really hard look at what you’ve been saying. I think you might want to consider that there are a lot of people in town who have hired Jet, who have liked the work he’s done for them, who find him to be honest and forthright. You, on the other hand—”
“Don’t you dare bring up the cupcake thing!” she snapped. “Don’t you dare.”
Then she disconnected. Just like that. Ended the conversation without ever denying that she’d made the story up.
Which, when he thought of it, was not like Daisy at all. She loved to prove a point, to be right, to commit to something and stick with it.
So why hadn’t she shouted her innocence to the world?
Why hadn’t she demanded a meeting at town hall, where she could share her grievances and demand an apology?
It worried him, he’d admit it.
Because if Max was right and Daisy had made the entire thing up, if she was accusing someone of something that hadn’t even happened . . . that was a crime, and she could be punished with jail time.
He needed to talk it out with someone. Preferably not someone who worked for the Apple Valley Sheriff’s Department.
Apricot popped into his head. She’d listen without judging. She’d give whatever advice she could. She’d probably prescribe teas and tinctures to help with Daisy’s high-strung nature.
Thinking about that made Simon smile, until he remembered that Apricot didn’t want drama, she didn’t want risk, she didn’t want any of the things he had in his life. She didn’t want to be honest either, and that, more than anything else, was the kiss of death to whatever they’d had.
“Can I help you?” the young woman at the drive-through window asked.
“Only if you can shoot me back in time so I can start my day again,” he replied.
“Excuse me?” Her smooth brow furrowed, her hand paused over the computer keys.
“I’ll take a large coffee and a cheese Danish,” he said. Neither would taste as good as what he could get at Charlotte’s, but he wasn’t ready to face a bunch of questions from a bunch of well-meaning people. He didn’t want to talk about Daisy or Jet or the mugging. He just wanted to eat something for lunch, go back to work, and pretend the day had never happened.
The problem with pretending was it didn’t change things.
It didn’t make fiction truth or truth fiction.
All it did was allow a person to hide his head in the sand and ignore things that were right in front of his nose.
For example, a sister-in-law who was just kooky enough to make up a story that would get her every bit of the attention she seemed to need.
Three days after her disastrous lunch, and Apricot hadn’t seen hide nor hair of anyone from the Baylor family. That should have pleased her. It didn’t, because she missed them.
Simon.
The girls.
Even crazy Daisy.
She missed them, but she was not going to call Simon. What would be the point? No amount of apologizing could change what she’d done. She’d blown something really pleasant because she’d been worried about having her heart broken. Funny thing was, she’d spent the past three days feeling like it had been.
She scowled, dropping an armful of tree trimmings into a wheelbarrow she’d dragged from the dilapidated shed she’d found at the edge of the orchard. It had been filled with old farming equipment. Hand tools. Trimmers. Nothing any of the guys she’d hired would use, but she liked the feeling of history, of constancy that came with holding something that someone else had used decades ago. Of course, she hadn’t asked Dusty if the building was on her land, but she figured he’d show up eventually if it wasn’t and tell her to put the wheelbarrow back.
Or maybe not.
He’d spent most of the last few days mooning over Rose.
Apricot had spent most of the past few days avoiding her family. Even now, at seven in the morning with rain just starting to fall in a light, sweet mist, she wasn’t inside. She was out in the orchard, working her butt off, because that was a heck of a lot easier than listening to Rose or Lilac’s advice about her love life.
The one she did not have, because she was a coward. A boring one.
“It sucks to be me!” She dropped another armload of branches and leaves onto the others.
“What’s that, Apricot?” Jet asked from the rung of a ladder that leaned against one of the larger apple trees. His upper body and head were shrouded by leaves and branches, but his thin legs were clearly visible.
“Just talking to myself.”
“You know you do that a lot, right?” He peered out from between leaves and frowned. “You might want to go see someone about it.”
“How about you just stick to trimming trees and save the helpful advice for someone else?” she responded, bending down to gather a few more fallen branches.
“Bad morning with the family, huh?” he responded.
“Bad lifetime with the family,” she muttered.
“At least you have them to complain about. One day you might not, so maybe you should just enjoy what you’ve got while you got it.”
“Do you have to be so smart, Jet? Because I’m trying to bemoan my fate, and you’re not making it easy.” She dropped the third armful in the barrow, stretched a kink out of her back, and tried really, really hard to be thankful for what she had.
“Hey, I just call it like I see it.” He ducked his head back inside the canopy of trees and went back to work trimming the top branches. “Besides, if you ask my granddad, he’ll tell you I’m more smart aleck than smart.”
“I doubt it. The way I hear things, your grandparents think the sun rises and sets with your smile.”
He laughed, tossing a couple of small branches down. “They’re pretty great people. I just wish they didn’t have to go through all this stuff with the crazy librarian. She actually showed up at our house last night and demanded to be allowed to search my room. She still thinks I took her wallet and phone.”
“I hope your grandparents sent her packing.” And she wondered what Simon had thought about his sister-in-law’s escapades.
Which made her wonder about Simon.
Which made her wonder if she was the biggest fool in the world for not just picking up the phone and calling the guy.
“Nah. We let her take a look. I’ve got nothing to hide. Poor lady got to my underwear drawer and nearly had a heart attack. It was right around that time that she decided that maybe she didn’t need to search my room after all.”
Apricot laughed. Probably her first real laugh in three days, and it was at poor Daisy’s expense. The woman really did need to get on a strict regimen of herbs and tinctures. A vegan diet might help too. “Did you report her to the police?”
“Granddad said that would just be cruel. She’s already made such a fool of herself in town, people look at her sideways when she walks down the street.” He tossed several branches onto the ground, looked down at her again. “It’s starting to rain, you know.”
“You can stop for the day.”
“We’ve barely started, and I like to get a job done once I sign up for it.”
“You didn’t sign up for this. I volunteered you.” That was nearly the truth. She’d actually asked him to join the orchard crew while he was waiting on custom-ordered windows to be delivered. With everything else on the exterior of the house complete, Jet had packed up and told her he’d be back when the windows arrived. She could have let him go, but he’d had a look that bordered on desperation, and she’d thought that maybe his college expenses were piling up or that he was helping his retired grandparents with their mortgage.
Whatever the case, she’d known he needed the money, and she could certainly use the help.
He tossed a couple more branches down, then climbed halfway down the ladder. “You know I appreciate the work.”
“And you know that I appreciate you being the one person on the orchard crew who begins work at the crack of dawn like I do.”
He shrugged. “You’re the only person I know who is willing to let me make my own work schedule. That really helps when it comes to school. I’m taking full advantage of it.” He climbed the rest of the way down the ladder, his hair already wet from rain, his body still holding on to the lean, lanky build of youth. “Of course, today I’ve only gotten an hour in.” He glanced up at the cloud-laden sky. “And it looks like that’s going to be all. Might be all for a few days. I heard we’ve got a storm blowing in.”
“That’s great. All that rain will be good for next year’s growing season.”
“That’s what I like about you, Apricot.” He brushed her hands away from the wheelbarrow. “You’re always an optimist. Me? I’m just thinking about the money I’m not going to make and about the fact that I’m standing here in wet clothes.” He pushed the load to the edge of the orchard, rolled it onto the cart she’d rented, and dumped it there. “You want me to put the wheelbarrow back in the shed?”
She was going to tell him not to bother. She didn’t mind a little rain. She’d grown up walking through the woods while rain poured down, and she loved the sound of it on the tree canopy, the soft slap of it on the ground.
Of course, if she told him she was going to keep working, he’d feel obligated to do the same. “Sure. I’ll grab the ladder.”
“I’ll get it. I took it out. Plus, this place is packed with stuff. It’s not easy to get the ladder in and out.” He rolled the wheelbarrow into the shed, calling out as he went. “You going to the apple festival next weekend?”
“Of course. Rose has been working nonstop to get ready for it. She’s got a hundred cases of tinctures to sell.”
“She got anything for arthritis? My grandma’s hands are . . .” Something knocked against the wall of the shed, and she figured he must have been shoving the wheelbarrow into place.
“Shit!” He came running out, his face white as a ghost, his eyes dark and glassy.
“What’s wrong?” She grabbed his arm, afraid he’d been bitten by something. It was late in the season for snakes, but there were plenty of other varmints that were gathering their stores for the winter. Opossums, raccoons, rats. They could all be mean when they were cornered.
“Holy crap! This is bad, Apricot. Really bad,” Jet gasped.
“What? Were you stung? Bitten? Are you having a heart attack?” She probed his jugular, and he brushed her hand away.
“I shoved the wheelbarrow so hard that I knocked over the planter. There was a bunch of dirt inside it.”
“No problem. I’ll sweep up the dirt. It’s been in there so long, it’s dry as a bone. I could probably just leave the door open and let the breeze blow it—”
He grabbed her hand, yanked her to the door. Pointed, his finger trembling. The planter was on its side, the dirt that someone had left in it spilled out. And there, right on top of the mess, was a wallet and a shattered cell phone.
“That’s not what I think it is, is it?” she whispered as if being quiet could change what she was seeing.
“I don’t know. Shit! What if it is?” Jet wasn’t at all worried about quiet. He looked ready to run, his eyes frantic, his face pale.
“Did you look in the wallet?”
“No. I didn’t want my fingerprints on it.”
“Maybe it isn’t Daisy’s.”
“And maybe it is, and if it is, it’s going to lead the police right to me. We need to put them back under the dirt and pretend we never saw them.”
She grabbed his arm before he could start hiding the evidence. “You know we can’t do that.”
“I suppose you’re going to say we should call the police,” he grumbled.
“First, I’m going to see if they’re Daisy’s. If they are, we’ll call the police. If they’re not, we’re still going to call the police.” She lifted the wallet, brushed dirt off its faux leather cover, opened it.
There was Daisy, staring back at her from a really, really, really bad driver’s license photo.
“Sweet corn fritters, it is hers.” She sighed.