Nuts (Hudson Valley, #1)(32)

Oh. I was so mortified. “I’m so sor—”

“Ah gawna seh oo donna,” came the muffled reply, and I scooted further back against the tree, freeing his lips from my rather short shorts.

“Sorry?” I sang out, trying to make this not at all awkward.

“I said”—he grasped my hands—“I’m gonna”—giving me a little bounce to get him out from under—“set you”—I flew up in the air before he caught me neatly—“down now.”

I stood in his arms, shirtless, hair full of bark, my chest red from my slapping. He was covered in mud from my scrambling shoes, breathing heavily, and keeping his hands firmly at my waist, holding me at a safe distance. He shook his head. “You’re a bit of a train wreck, aren’t you?”

I puffed a bit of hair away from my face. “Choo choo?”

Thank goodness, he laughed.

Then he gallantly turned around while I put my T-shirt back on, which was sweet, considering he’d already had a substantial peek at the goods. Then we began walking back toward the Jeep.

“So what’s with the bees?” he asked.

“Where?” I asked, automatically ducking. My heart rate spiked at the thought that the bee had returned to get his revenge.

“Easy there, he’s long gone.”

“Good,” I said, scanning the area.

“He’s probably telling all of his buddies to steer clear of the lady in the woods in her underwear.”

“Hey!” I said, giving him an elbow. “It was just my bra.”

He just shook his head and chuckled. “No more nature for you today.” He placed his hand on the small of my back again and guided me toward the road.

It was quiet, just the sounds of our feet crunching through the underbrush. I looked up at him, his face almost in shadow. It was past dusk; we’d been out in the woods for a while. The fireflies were beginning to turn on, sparking here and there in the twilight. We’d spent the better part of the afternoon together, and it had flown by.

“Bees aside, thanks for bringing me out here. And sorry again about the climbing. And the screaming.”

“Next time, less screaming. Climbing is fine; just gimme a heads up,” he replied with an easy smile.

By now we’d reached the Jeep. “Climbing,” I announced in warning, stepping up high and settling into my seat. He stood next to the car a moment longer, and I looked at him curiously. “What’s up, Leo?”

“You’re only here for the summer, right?” he asked, his eyes staring intently into mine.

I felt the tiniest of jolts running through me.

“Mmm-hmm.” Maybe this would be easier than I thought, if we both wanted the same thing. Did this mean . . .

He leaned into the Jeep, one hand grasping the roll bar over my head, the other resting on the dashboard. Caged in by his strong arms, I looked up into his face. The edge of his mouth lifted in a sneaky grin. “Then I should probably get going on this.”

Then his lips were on mine, warm and soft. Mmm. My eyes were still open, searching his. Thrilled and emboldened by his sudden move, my mouth molded to his. The kiss was quick, too quick—before I could close my eyes and begin to revel in it, he pulled back, licking his lips and grinning like a cat.

“Hey, get back here,” I insisted, slipping my hands behind his neck, my thumbs grazing his cheekbones. I pulled his mouth back to mine, luxuriating in the feel of him. His beard tickled a bit, raspy and soft at the same time. I liked it. I more than liked it. I could see how I would very quickly begin to crave it. I leaned into the kiss, rising out of my seat a little, brushing his lips with mine. We kissed again and again, little light lip explosions and soft teasing brushes. I sighed into his mouth, and he pulled back slightly. I tried to follow his lips, and he chuckled.

“Was that a ‘this is boring’ sigh?”

“Are you kidding? That was a ‘please to be kissing me more’ sigh.” I pressed another kiss to his lips.

“?‘Please to be kissing me’?” he asked, his eyes full of laughter.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, placing a kiss on his forehead, his nose, his chin, and one final one on his mouth. “Is that how every farm tour ends?”

“I’d say that’s a first.” He laughed, leaning across me and clicking my seat belt.

“Good,” I replied as he walked around to his side of the Jeep. “I like being an original.”

“Oh, I’ll give you that,” he answered, starting up the car and giving me a sexy grin.

My toes pointed. I couldn’t help it. We drove back to the main house, where he put me in my car, then kissed me once more before I left.

And as I drove home, I fiddled with my music, scrolling through songs until I found Achtung Baby. I’d forgotten how awesome this album was.





Chapter 9


When the alarm went off the next morning at 4:30, I began listing all the reasons I should throttle my mother. By 4:37 I had seventeen well-thought-out reasons that would be hard to prosecute under New York State law. But by 4:57 I was in the car, wet hair tied back into a bun, travel mug of coffee in hand, ready for a day of blue plates and blue hairs.

I hated being up this early, as any human would. There was nothing worse than being dragged out of bed before the sun had even thrown back its covers, to clean out grease traps and chop seventy heads of iceberg lettuce for “salad.” This was my life from about the age of eleven through high school graduation. Same thing, day after day. That was part of the reason I’d chosen the private chef route: there was always something new and exciting to play around with, new menus to create, new taste buds to tantalize. Nothing ho hum there.