Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
He was busy chewing, but his eyes filled with enough warmth for me to know I was on the right path. “Good idea is an understatement.” He washed down the rest of his food with a swig of water, and then he grabbed my hands on the table. “That’s the kind of initiative that makes me wanna…” He trailed off, much to my sudden frustration, and he glanced at something behind me. Made him wanna what? “It’s my boss,” he said quietly.
Oh, he was coming over.
“Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” the man muttered distractedly. He was flipping through some printouts.
I hadn’t really thought about Sebastian’s boss before, but I supposed he looked like what I would’ve expected. Rugged, maybe a few years older than us, judging by the silver in his scruff. He happened to be handsome as hell too, and he was walking with a limp.
“I’m putting Niko on more kitchen duty,” he said. “Would you mind covering one of his evening shifts at the bar? I thought I’d divide his hours between the rest of you.”
“Yeah, no problem at all.” Sebastian seemed pleased to get more hours. “If possible, I’d like to avoid Friday and Saturday, but…”
“No sweat. You’re my only bartender who doesn’t mind working Sundays. I’ll pencil you in. Thanks, Sebastian.” He made a move to leave when Sebastian spoke again.
“Hey, weren’t you and Gray searching for someone who could help you expand your farm or something?”
The man cocked his head. “We need an extra hand for a few projects next spring, yeah. Why?”
Sebastian nodded at me. “You should talk to Blake. He’s worked all over the field—construction, renovations, you name it.”
That seemed to pique the man’s interest, and he extended a hand to me.
“Darius Quinn.”
I shook it firmly. “Blake Kidd—nice to meet you, sir. I actually have a card here somewhere…” I patted my pockets, all fucking six of them. When it came to work, one had to be prepared. There, found it. “I grew up on a ranch and was put to work before I could crawl, so whatever you might need on a farm, I’m sure I’ve got experience.”
He grinned faintly and eyed the card before pocketing it. “Good to know. I’ll definitely get in touch with you. We’ll probably wanna get started right after the last frost. One farm, a million projects.”
“It never ends,” I chuckled in agreement.
Sebastian and I were left alone again a beat later, and I told him to feel free to pimp me out for work any day of the week.
“I’m just collecting things that tie you to Washington so you can’t leave.”
Behind the joke, I sensed a little bit of truth—or worry—and it was up to me to fix that.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’ve never been so damn happy before. I’m stayin’ put.” I dragged a ravioli through the buttery sauce and stuck it into my mouth. “Your boss seems nice, by the way.”
“Yeah, he’s great.” Sebastian had finished his food, so he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “He and his boyfriend live up in the woods with their two kids.” That explained the name Gray. “They run their own little homestead farm—self-reliance and all that. Kinda the dream life, don’t you think?”
I took a swallow of beer and wondered what he meant by that. He wanted to live in the woods? I wouldn’t mind that. The woods were hunting grounds. I couldn’t say I was sold on running a farm, though. Ranches and farms were the same fucking thing in that there was always too much to do. When you fixed one fence, another one broke.
“You wanna buy a farm and go off the grid?”
He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “No, and I don’t wanna adopt kids either. Being with you has just made me more interested in seeing what the future might look like.” He paused and checked his watch, perhaps to see how much he had left of his break. “All right—the truth. Pops is finally thinking about retiring in the next year or two, and he asked me the other day if taking over the orchard is something I would consider.”
That made much more sense.
“What did you tell him?” I wondered.
Now that he’d mentioned it, I saw the appeal in thinking ahead—in making plans together. Because plans indicated we wanted to spend that future by each other’s side.
“I didn’t say a whole lot,” he admitted. “On the one hand, I always loved his place in the woods. I grew up there. I followed him around as a kid and absorbed his little experiments with seeds, soils, and pollination, and I’ve worked there as an adult.”
“And on the other hand…?”
He smiled ruefully. “On the other hand, I can’t imagine leaving the beach house.”
Yeah, I could see that struggle. One part of him wanted to do the work and settle down with a business, a legacy, and build a home. The other part of him was perfectly content in the beach house where the dogs could run around, where he was close to his beloved ocean, and where he had very little maintenance to worry about.