The Burbs and the Bees - Cathryn Fox Page 0,12

my head. “Wait, did you just call him Cluck Norris?”

“Yeah, he’s…” His voice falls off as I tug my hat off to scratch my itchy head. Those whiskey eyes of his go wide. “Alyson? Is that you?”

“The one and only,” I say.

He stumbles backward, like someone just sucker punched him. “What the fuck?”

I snort, unladylike, I know. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“This is what you find funny?”

He shakes his head and rakes his hand through his hair, like he’s trying to wrap his brain around all this. I should be doing the same, but with him distracted, I take a moment to admire his body in those loose jeans and T-shirt, instead. I resist the urge to slurp, because yeah, the guy cleans up nice.

Is that pie? Mmmm…

“Are you related to Reid?” he asks.

“Reid is my last name,” I say.

“You own this farm?” he asks.

I hold my hand out. “I’m your new neighbor.”

“I… You… Wait, how do you know I’m your neighbor?”

“A lovely lady named Barbara stopped by when I first arrived. She said she’d send her son over with pie. You’re here, holding a pie. I can put things together like that.” I have no idea why I’m so calm, because honestly, my insides are slamming around like they’re on the dance floor, rapping to Drake.

“You own this place,” he says, a statement, not a question, as he shakes his head.

I turn from him and take in the barn/market, the rows and rows of apple trees on the hill, the petting zoo, and the old farmhouse I just explored.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

I spin back around. “When would I have done that, when you were yelling at me before we landed in the ocean, or when you were yelling at me after we were fished out? Oh, maybe I should have mentioned it right after you told me you were looking at me in my underwear, when you weren’t supposed to be.”

He swallows so loudly, it nearly drowns out the cow mooing in the distance.

I have a cow?

“I… Ah, yeah. Um, pie.” He holds it out to me, but his eyes aren’t on mine anymore. No, they’re raking down my body, taking in the oversized shirt I’m wearing. “Welcome to Matthews Orchard.”

“Did you know my uncle?” I ask, and his gaze darts back to mine.

“Yes. Very well.”

Something inside me softens. “I never knew him.” I wave my hand around. “I never even knew about this place until a lawyer called me out of the blue.”

“I never even knew Jack had any family until the reading of the will.”

I hold my arm out for the pie, but the movement lifts the shirt high on my thighs. I guess it doesn’t much matter. This man has seen me in my underwear. More importantly, I’ve seen him in his. “Pie.”

He holds it, like he’s reluctant to hand it over. “Do you know anything…”

Ah, there it is!

The question of the century. The one I’ve been waiting for. Jay knows I’m out of my element as much as I do, and it was only a matter of time before he questioned my abilities. “Do I know anything about what?”

He scratches his head. “Anything about running an orchard?”

I take a minute to compose myself. I hate admitting that I don’t know a lot of anything about anything. “Not as of right now, no,” I say.

His face is blank, expressionless, and then he laughs, like I cracked a joke.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, squaring my shoulders and placing a hand on my hip. This time, with my limbs thawed, it doesn’t take effort and hopefully gives the “screw you” look I’m going for.

“Come on, you don’t think you can just move here from…” He pauses, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

“New York,” I say, starching my back.

“New York,” he repeats, “and just take over an orchard with no experience?”

I exhale. Is there any point in arguing any of this with him? He’s right. I know nothing. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do my damnedest, give my heart and soul to this place for at least a month—or die trying. It’s not just my parents I have something to prove to, it’s myself…but… “No, I guess I don’t. I suppose you think I’ll be lucky to make it through the night,” I say.

“I didn’t say that…exactly.”

I bite back a laugh. He didn’t have to. “You’re probably right, though,” I say, letting him believe what he wants, but I’m sure

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