Page 31 of Love Story

Exciting wasn’t the word that immediately came to mind, but I couldn’t miss how Ben’s face lit up as he talked, his breath misting in the cold air.His enthusiasm was contagious, and I stood straighter, listening closer.

“I figured you’d want to know about them,” he continued.“I mean, you’re his great-great-grandson, right?It’s history.Your history.”

“I’m busy.”I waved at the shed and all the machinery, so he’d understand what I meant.He followed my gesture, and the excitement dimmed in his eyes.I’d done that, taken away his enthusiasm, and I didn’t have time for old family history, but I was never knowingly cruel to people.“Sorry.I mean, I’d love to see them,” I lied.“Just maybe after the season.”

His smile came back, and it was the most beautiful smile.He was cute, sweet, and gentle, and the way he bounced on his toes was so fucking endearing.

“Cool,” he said and then bounced once more.“I’ll uhm… I’ll go then.”

“Sure,” I muttered, turning back to the spiles I’d been sorting, trying to focus on something other than the fact that he was still standing there.

“How long is the season?”he asked, not going anywhere, and I sighed when I lost count.

Again.

Only I was rewarded when his beautiful smile returned.Cute, sweet, gentle—Ben had this quiet energy about him that snuck up on me when I least expected it.I had to look away, or he’d see how much I wanted to kiss his smile.

And protect him, and hold him, and keep him warm and—

“Sorry?”I asked.

“How long is the season?”He stopped my stupid, spiraling thoughts, not moving an inch.

I huffed out a soft laugh, straightening to look at him.“Depends on the weather.Usually, it’s about six weeks, give or take.Some years, we get longer, but once the trees start to bud, that’s it.The sap turns bitter.”

He nodded thoughtfully as though he were taking mental notes.“And you tap all the trees in that time?”

“Pretty much.Hundreds of them, all over the sugarbush.”I gestured to the room around us.“Everything has to be ready to go before the first run starts otherwise, we’ll be playing catch-up.”

At that, Ben tilted his head, considering, then took the stool Dad had been sitting on earlier.He sat down, elbows resting on his knees, his chin propped on his hands as he watched me.He was still wrapped up like a snowman, layered in at least a hundred things, and I’d never seen anything so damn cute.

“You look like you’re about to ask more questions.”I smirked.

“Maybe,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small smile.“What’s the process like?After the sap comes in, I mean.”

I grabbed one of the fresh spiles from the table and held it up.“Here.Let me show you.”I moved closer, holding the small tap out for him to see.“This goes into the tree.You drill a small hole—only an inch and a half deep—and tap this in to catch the sap.It’s mostly lines and tubing these days, but you’ll still see buckets too.Tradition and all.”

Ben straightened, pulling one of his gloves off to take the spile from me.His bare fingers brushed mine, and the brief touch was enough to send a jolt through me that I pretended not to feel.

“Like this?”he asked, holding it like I’d shown him.

“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer to adjust the angle of his grip.We were inches apart now, close enough that I could see the faint bruising still on his cheek from the accident and the bruises on his forehead.He glanced up at me, his green eyes curious and sharp, and for a second, I forgot what I was explaining.

He broke the moment first, staring down at the spile in his hands.“I don’t know how you do all this.Six weeks of running around the woods, boiling sap, managing everything… I’d be useless at all that physical stuff.”

“You’d figure it out,” I replied, leaning back.

He reached for my arm and squeezed my bicep, “I guess that’s how you got these then.”

I didn’t move.Mesmerized.So close I could just lean over and kiss him, right here.

He filled the silence.“I guess that’s how you could lift me to your truck when I was all discombobulated after crashing?”

I was so damn hard it was difficult to think, what with all my blood rushing south.“Uh huh,” I managed.

“So how many of these taps do you have?”he asked, and the moment was broken.

“Twelve hundred organized and ready to go.”I kept them in neat rows, sorted and counted with precision—because once the sap run started, there wouldn’t be time to scramble for missing equipment.

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