Page 81 of The Best Kind of Bad

He raises an eyebrow. “For baking?”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I can make a honey lavender biscotti that’ll knock your socks off.”

“I’d be willing to take that bet. You want to go pick some?”

“Lavender? Can we?”

“You bet.”

We walk along the creek, following its meandering path. It’s created natural patches, too small and uneven to plow. But big enough to put to other use.

He undersold the lavender patch. It’s huge. Cheery stems of lavender shiver in the gentle breeze, painting the little mini field green and purple. I walk through, noticing how the bees are busy skipping from bloom to bloom.

He follows behind me, picking a stem to pull the buds off. “The lavender seems to really like the sandy soil.”

“Does the honey take on the lavender flavor?”

He glances back, watching bees flit back towards the hives. “Now that you mention it… it does taste more flowery than the stuff you get at the store.”

I kneel by the plants, carefully picking off a few buds to crush in my fingers. “I didn’t take you to be a bee man. Or a flower guy.”

“There’s more to me than meets the eye.” His tone is glib, but his smile falters when he sees my serious expression.

Tipping my head back to look at him, I hold his gaze. “I know.”

I know that he’s sweet and sexy as hell.

Capable.

He can fix a roof or plow a field.

And, apparently, I can add innovative to the list. It makes sense. This is a man who isn’t afraid to put himself out there. To fail and make mistakes. But isn’t that when the good stuff happens? When you’re not afraid to try?

“Your Uncle Gus gave me a long leash. He didn’t mind the side hobbies so long as we got the important things done first. We even talked about going organic on the west eighty next year.”

“Really?”

“It’s not easy. And it looks ugly as hell for the first few years until the land adjusts, but yeah, we were going to try it.”

“I like that idea. What other plans did you have up your sleeves?”

He gestures at the bees with the lavender stem in his hands. “I have test plots all over the place. Pumpkins. Strawberries. Sugar beets. Trying to figure out what will flourish and what won’t.”

I stand, dusting off my knees. Recipes start flicking through my head. Pumpkin pie. Strawberry tarts. Red velvet cake made red and tender from beets instead of artificial color.

“I’m really impressed, Dusty. All this… I don’t know, it gets my imagination going.”

He smiles as I pick my way through the blooms to stand in front of him. He brushes my hair behind my ears, leaving the scent of lavender along my cheekbone. “You haven’t even seen the grapes yet.”

I tilt my head, grinning. “You’re starting a vineyard?”

He shrugs, reaching out to reel me in. “More of a dream than a reality, but yeah, we’ve got it started.”

I bite my lip, peering up at him. “Show me.”

54.

Dusty

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