Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Crew’s words snap me out of my head, and I smile his way, more fireflies fluttering around when he glides his hand over the handle in appreciation before tugging on it. “What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
His eyes narrow, but there’s a smile within them and he climbs out with a hint of a grin on his lips. “Come here.”
I take his outstretched hand, but before I can climb out, he wedges himself between my legs, swooping down like a crow starved for its next meal. His mouth takes mine in a searing kiss, his hands burning my skin when he wraps his long fingers around my upper torso, sliding down until one is disappearing beneath my dress.
He cups me, pressing my center firmly with a low growl. “I hate these shorts.”
“You’re going to love them when the breeze hits and the hem of this dress floats up to my waist.”
I feel his frown against my face and peek an eye open and chuckle.
“I want you,” he rasps, pressing his hard-on against my knee.
“I want…” I trail off, gripping his face to deepen the kiss, his hat falling over my shoulder and tumbling to the floorboard. “To see a man about some lemons.”
“Fine.” He pouts and with a reluctant groan, helps me from the truck, gently closing the door behind me. “But only because this place closes in an hour. Know you’re mine the second we get… anywhere alone.”
“Deal.”
I grin as he lifts his shirt up, exposing his strong stomach, so he can softly glide the material over the handle to erase all traces of his touch. Just like that, it shines back, not a single smudge to be seen. Hand threading through mine, he leads us toward the farmers’ market.
“So, what’s the plan, Stan?”
“This is your show, Sweets. You tell me.”
I squeal, toying with the ice cream cone on my hanging necklace, making sure it’s not tangled with the candy one settled above it. “Okay, let me feel some of them out, ask questions, and you fill in any blanks I don’t know the answer to… and you know what, it’s sad because there’s a lot. If I had known about today, I would have studied your books. A couple hours and I’d blow your mind in a way you never knew numbers could.”
I look to Crew, who stares at me with lowered lids. “What?”
“You’re fucking sexy, you know that?”
My frown is instant, and Crew laughs, tugging me into him, his arm going around my shoulder. He kisses my temple and keeps walking, eyeing a bulk nuts vendor as we pass.
“Crew Taylor, I can feel those wheels spinning, and it’s awesome.”
He taps his forehead to mine. “Think bulk nuts from someone out here could save a penny too?”
“Maybe even ten pennies,” I tease.
He squeezes my shoulder in response, and I love that he’s discovering something he never thought of, realizing he has options and figuring out where to find them.
“Okay, three tents down. They have lemons and oranges, but I’m not seeing limes. Looks like maybe a mix of fresh herbs, too. Ideally, you’d find someone you could get all the citrus from at once, that would make your order larger, and make it more likely to lower the cost because of that, but don’t count them out.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he jokes.
I smack his chest, melting when he catches my hand.
“What about over there?” He jerks his chin.
On the right, one vendor has two pop-ups, all the citrus you could ask for and fresh fruits to make it even better.
“Jackpot.”
Crew’s shoulders shake in amusement, but I ignore him, heading straight for the young men manning the station.
They can’t be more than sixteen, their skin tan from hours of hard work on what I’m betting is a family business, by the lax way they lounge in the shade, counting this as a break from their summer job duties. I’m sure it is, their typical work likely ten times harder.
As I walk beneath their tent, one of the boys nudges the other’s leg, keeping his face in his phone while the other head pops up.
Must be his turn to wait on a customer.
The young man looks at me. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He leans on his forearms over a stack of mason jars full of canned peaches, a crooked grin on his face. He lifts a small green basket of black cherries. “Try one?”
“Sure,” I accept, but before I can pop it in my mouth, Crew is bumping my back, and my hand jostles. I look up over my shoulder, and the brute is staring at the young boy, his face blank.
“You gonna offer me one, too?” He messes with the kid, gaining the attention of the other one.
“Uh, yeah, sure…”
Nudging him backward, I round the white-linen-covered table. “Do you guys work for the Kellpa family?” I read the name on the logo.