Page 52 of Novel Problems

I nodded, and we picked up the buckets—three full of cherries, two empty ones for the strawberries—and walked over to the strawberry fields, where we spotted Jenny and Blake partway down a row of strawberry plants. Amanda and Olivia were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were still picking cherries, or had given up and gone to the farm café for refreshments.

Jenny popped a strawberry in Blake’s mouth, and George let out a sound halfway between a groan and achuckle. “Why don’t we make a start over there, give the love birds some space?”

I nodded, and we wandered over to the spot George had suggested, a safe distance from Jenny and Blake.

“Have they been dating long?” I asked as I kneeled down next to a strawberry plant and began to pick the ripe fruit, inhaling the sweet, earthy fragrance.

“Since fall.” George chuckled as she crouched opposite me on the other side of the strawberry plant. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled for them, and it’s cute how into each other they are, but I like to keep my distance when they’re in that mood.”

Was now a good time to bring up our relationship? The topic was dating, so it might be an opportunity to segue to us. Or was it weird if I brought us up immediately after discussing two people who were clearly madly in love with each other? I stared at George, who was delicately pulling a strawberry off a plant.Damn.I knew I needed to talk to George about this, but at this rate, with my tendency to overthink everything and my aversion to awkward conversations, it would never happen. I sighed.

Tania had given me feedback on my last novel, which had a romantic subplot, that readers hated when love interests didn’t communicate. I’d taken her feedback without objection, but this experience reminded me just how damn hard communicating could be, especially when you weren’t sure how the other person felt, and you were potentially putting yourself out there for rejection. And looking back, Tania and I hadn’t exactly been the best communicators either. We still weren’t. We were well overdue for a conversation about how to divide our shared assets—a conversation that I’d been putting off. But George was different, and I wanted to learn from my mistakes.

I looked down at the plant in front of me and picked another strawberry. “I imagine it must be hard dating in a small town like Sapphire Springs as a queer person. I’m assuming it’s a fairly small dating pool. It’s so nice that Blake and Jenny found each other.” I looked up at George. Our eyes connected, and my heart stuttered.

I’m so glad I found you too.The words were so loud in my head that, for a moment, I panicked, thinking I’d said them out loud. But it was true. It’d only been two weeks since I’d met George, but in that time, my life had improved drastically. I was writing again and actually enjoying it. I was social again and also enjoying it. I felt more like myself than I had in years.

My eyes lowered to George’s dimple, which was peeking through, and then her soft lips.

Focus on the strawberries, Hannah.A strawberry field was way too public a setting for another make-out session, even if I was getting vibes George might be into it. A thrill rushed through me at the thought.

I dropped my eyes to the ground and pulled off another juicy, red strawberry, suddenly imagining George and me sharing it in some romantic, strawberry-scented montage. I internally shook myself. One of the drawbacks of being an author was an overactive imagination.

I thought I could feel George’s eyes on me, studying my face, but I didn’t dare look up yet.

My stomach churned. This was the moment. We were alone and relaxed, without pig recordings or friends close by to disturb us.You can do this, Hannah.

I slowly lifted my eyes to find George focusing on a strawberry plant in front of her. I took a deep breath.Here goes. Possible rejection incoming.

“Hey, George,” I said. George looked up at meexpectantly, and I swallowed. “I feel like I didn’t handle the conversation we started on the kayak, about us, very well. And that maybe I cut you off before you’d finished what you’d been planning to say.” Everything—stomach, chest, throat—felt tight. But I had to keep going. I cleared my throat. “I know I said I had some reservations about starting a new relationship after just coming out of a long-term one. But I’ve been thinking about it more, and in reality, my past relationship was over long ago. Look, I, um…really like you, and if you’re interested, I’m down to give it a go. But of course, it’s totally okay if you’re not.” The words spilled out of me, too fast and jumbled. It was definitely not a romantic speech worthy of my novels—“down to give it a go.” Really, Hannah?—but at least I’d said it.

Holding my breath and not moving, I studied George’s face for her reaction. She was smiling, a gorgeous, tender smile that sent sparks shooting down my spine. That was a good sign, right? She started to lean in over the strawberry plant. Also promising.

“Hannah?” Her voice was low and gentle.

“Mmmm?” I said, trying to not get my hopes up.

George’s gaze was intense.

“I’m trying to kiss you, but if I lean in any farther, I’m going to capsize into this strawberry plant. Can you meet me halfway?”

“Oh shit! Sorry.” I laughed. With her words, all my worries about the strawberry field being too public a setting for any PDA flew away on the wind.

Maintaining contact with George’s warm, brown eyes, I leaned in, excitement fizzing in my chest. I closed my eyes as our lips met. George tasted faintly of cherries, her mouth soft and warm. I moaned.Damn.I didn’t think I could like cherries any more than I already did, but this was heaven.The kiss started off slow and gentle but quickly intensified, causing me to lose my balance. To avoid squashing the strawberry plant, I grabbed George’s waist to steady myself, and she wobbled, nearly toppling backward.

“Sorry!” I murmured.

“Don’t apologize.” George’s breath was warm on my face. She kissed me gently. “This wasn’t”—another kiss—“the most sensible”—and another—“position to kiss you in.” George pulled back softly. “I just couldn’t help myself. And in case you hadn’t gathered, I’m ‘down to give it a go’ too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HANNAH

I leaned against the kitchen counter watching George transfer the pastry dough onto the floured countertop. It had been two hours since we’d kissed over the strawberry plants, and this was not how I’d anticipated things would play out once we got back to George’s apartment.

Mesmerized by the way George’s hands worked the dough, an excited shiver of anticipation shot down my spine. We’d finally had the talk and agreed to “give it a go”—I cringed again at the memory of my clumsy wording—and now, except for Max who was snoozing on the couch, we were alone in George’s apartment. I wanted those strong hands on me. My eyes drifted up George’s forearms to the t-shirt that concealed her upper torso, and then down the curve of her back. And I wanted to explore her body desperately. I wasnotin the mood for baking a damn pie.

“I thought inviting me back to help bake the pie was just a ploy to have a bit more privacy?” I asked.

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