Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(20)

His handsome face reflected grim amusement. “Maybe that’s why you’re upset? Because I am. I’m not much of a hunter, but if I would’ve had a rifle, I would’ve blasted that damn deer for interrupting us.”


She couldn’t help but laugh.


“That’s better. I like to hear you laugh as much as I like to see you smile.” His thumb swept across the pulse point in her wrist. “I really like that you urged me to kiss you and I almost did.”


She tried to jerk her hand away but he held firm. “Why are you determined to embarrass me?”


“Why are you determined to pretend this is nothing?” he countered, his eyes serious. “Or is almost kissing in the orchard like giddy teenagers normal for you? Because I have to admit, it’s not normal for me. Not even close.”


Buoyed by his confession, Rielle smiled at him. “Me either. Come on.” She walked closer to him as they strolled back to the gardens.


“How do you harvest all that fruit?”


“Get a ladder, strap on a bag and start picking.”


“No, I mean by yourself. That’s dangerous work.”


“You know that’s how it goes when you run your own business. When things need to be done, you just do them and don’t think about it.”


“How long does it take?”


“Not all the fruit is ripe at the same time so it varies. I’ll pick the plums on Wednesday and ship them Thursday. The pears look to have at least a week left. The apples, another two weeks minimum. Why?”


“Because I volunteer my services as a fruit picker.”


She wouldn’t get anything done with Gavin distracting her. “Don’t you have construction workers to boss around?”


“I excel at multitasking.” He pointed to a small structure at the top of the rise. “What is that building used for? And is it on my property?”


“Technically, yes, it’s on your property. It’s a honey house.”


As expected, his head whipped around and he flashed her a depraved grin. “Do tell.”


“It’s a place to process my honey away from the bees.” She gestured to the stacks of white boxes in front of a cluster of chokecherry and buffalo berry bushes. “I’ll check my bees in the next couple days.”


“Checking your bees… Is that like minding your p’s and q’s?”


“Clever, tycoon. But no. It’s a little more involved.”


“Why in the hell would you want to keep bees? Don’t they sting you?”


“Only if provoked. At first I started a few hives because Wyoming joined an experimental subsidy program and it paid well, especially for a single mom. But I believe in the program and honeybees are essential in pollination of one third of the world’s crops. I have a higher yield in my gardens because of the bees. The ranchers that plant alfalfa reap the benefits of my bees too. Win win, right? Plus, I get to sell the product and the byproducts.”


He frowned. “Byproducts…plural?”


“The honey and the beeswax. Have you ever tasted wildflower honey?”


“I don’t know. Does it taste different?”


“Yes. And my honey tastes different from someone else’s honey.”


Gavin’s hot mouth brushed across her knuckles. “Of that I’ve no doubt. And I can’t wait to taste yours.”


Her entire body heated. Was she having a hot flash? Or were his words just that sexually potent? Yeah. It was all him.


“So those stacks of white boxes scattered all over the property. Those are bee traps?”


She snorted. “Bee traps. Those are the hives.”


“Square hives?”


“Technically they’re called supers.”



“How do you get the honey out?”


“By pulling the frames. Then slicing the wax caps off.”


He frowned. “Still don’t get it.”


“I can go into explicit detail of honey production and harvesting or give you an overview.”


“I’m more the explicit type.”


I’m sure you are.


Rielle detailed the process. Inside her honey house, she modeled her beekeeper suit and showed the smoker used to calm the bees before she opened the hive to check them. Then she showed him the spinning extractor that used centrifugal force to separate the honey from the wax comb. Lastly she pointed out the big buckets with spigots for bottling the honey.


“What do you do with the bees in the winter?”


She glanced at him. His eyes hadn’t glazed over yet. She tended to be enthusiastic about beekeeping, especially to the uninitiated. “Keep them in their hives.”


Gavin looked skeptical. “They don’t freeze up here in the arctic north?”


“There’s always some loss. But honeybees winter well when they’re properly protected will have enough honey to survive. I leave about seventy pounds of honey in each hive.”


“That much? Does that give you much of a harvest?”