“Can I help with the lemonade today?”
Cary glanced at Melissa. “You can help if your mom says you can.”
Cary sold fresh-squeezed lemonade from his booth. It was delicious, but Melissa would need that lemonade spiked with a lot more than mint to get her to pay three bucks for a cup.
Abby’s eyes turned from rolling to pleading. “Please.”
“That’s fine, but if I need help, you’re over here.”
She didn’t have anyone to help her in the booth, and every girl needed a bathroom break sometimes.
“I’ll cover you,” Cary said. “Anytime you need.”
It shouldn’t have sounded dirty. It really shouldn’t have. But then, Melissa hadn’t had sex in a long,longtime. And she had to admit the images that jumped into her head were hardly the first time she’d imagined Cary naked.
“You too.” She cleared her throat. “I can cover you—your booth. Cover your booth. If you need something. A break.” Fuck, could she sound more awkward? “I can cover your booth for you if you need a break.”
Was it her imagination, or did he look amused? Melissa refused to meet his eyes, ruthlessly organizing the heirloom tomatoes that were Joan’s pride and joy.
“Cary, where are the lids?” Abby was digging around in the back seat of Cary’s truck.
Melissa glanced over her shoulder. “Abby, you better not be making a mess.”
“She’s fine.” Cary had moved closer. “Look for a big bag under the seat.” His booth was set up, and there was still fifteen minutes before the market opened. “Let me help.”
He rolled up his sleeves, and Melissa’s mouth watered when she saw his forearms.
Not fair!
Did he know what a pair of defined forearms did to a woman?
Probably. Asshole.
“Your mom’s tomatoes look great.”
“You can take some home if they don’t sell.”
“Your heirlooms sell out every week.”
“And at four bucks a pound, I have no idea how.”
Cary turned a wooden crate on its side and started piling zucchini in it. “Is this right?”
She glanced up. “Yeah.”
“You should teach lessons on how to display this stuff.”
“It’s not a secret.” Melissa felt flustered. “I just do what I see at the grocery store.”
“Yeah, but it looks good.” He finished setting up the right side of the table and turned, then reached over and lifted the crate of summer squash. “You’re observant.”
I’m observing the hell out of your ass, that’s for sure.
Dammit, she needed to get her mind off Cary’s ass. In her defense, he was wearing Wranglers. “Thanks.”
“Abby, you find the lids?” he called.
“Yeah!”