Page 38 of The Pretenders of Copper County
Much.
And if it just so happened that I was determined to be cheerful and display a John-Ruffian-like competence, to not complain or seem needy even if it killed me, and to show that I was totally capable of taking care of myself… well, that had nothing to do with Reed or me wanting him to stop seeing me as a professional responsibility so he’d kiss me again either.
Definitely not.
To prove this point, I swiped a hand over my sweaty face and spoke my next words firmly. “So, um, about the whole thing where you think my uncle is a felon?—”
“Oh sweet Jesus, not again,” Reedgroaned. “I am not going through this again. I’d rather talk about the fucking kiss.”
I turned to stare at him. Wait, was that an option?
No, Chris. For heaven’s sake. Think of Danny.
“Because I am truly sorry for taking advantage of you,” Reed went on. “And I will not, not ever, under pain of death, kiss you again?—”
“Yes, I got that,” I said, a little edge in my voice. “You’ve made your position quite clear. And for what it’s worth, you didn’t take advantage of me, so I don’t want your apologies.” I waited a beat and added, “What I want is…proof.”
“Proof?”
“Yes. Like, evidence about what Danny’s been involved in. I guess some of the evidence is maybe, um… classified or whatever. At least, it is on TV. So I’m not asking for that. Just… I don’t know, a list of the things he’s been accused of. The people you think are involved. Because you asked me to stay with you based on your word alone, and I agreed… but I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to see that stuff, do you?” I peered up at him.
Reed didn’t dismiss the idea right away. “I don’t have anything like that right now,” he said slowly, “but… yes. That’s reasonable. I’ll get it for you.”
“Okay.” The intensity in his eyes made my stomach flutter. “Thanks.”
“Thanks?” Reed repeated. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That’s it?”
“Well, yes.” I blinked up at him. “Unless you wanted to discuss the kiss more?”
“Fuck, no,” he said fervently, which, honestly, was kind of hurtful.
Fine, then.
I lifted my chin and hurried to catch up with Watt, ignoring Reed’s impatient huffing.
“You’ve got some beautiful sedum growing here, Watt,” I called, pleased that I only sounded a little bit breathless. I pointed at the nodding purple heads of the plants in the bed next to us. “Autumn Joy, right? It’s one of my favorite annuals.”
Watt turned so he was walking backward—which was pretty impressive since I was having trouble covering the acres facing forward—and beamed at me from beneath a bright blue cap that saidOrganic Farmers are Out Standing in Their Fields. “It is! You a gardener, Chris?”
“Oh, um, no… I wouldn’t say that. My uncle is, though, and I’ve helped him out.”
From behind me, Reed gave a throaty growl like he disagreed, or disapproved of something, or possibly had spotted a bear in the woods. Since he didn’t speak actual words, I decided it wasn’t my problem, and I continued ignoring him.
“Ah. Well, the sedum was actually my sister Iris’s choice. She was pregnant a couple years ago and begged me to grow cantaloupes.” He stopped walking—mercifully—and gave a good-natured eye roll at the mostly empty bed behind the sedum’s tall, nodding heads of pink flowers. “Do you know how difficult it is to grow cantaloupe in this part of New York?”
“Um… pretty darn difficult, I’d guess?”
His lips twitched behind his beard. “Pretty darn difficult,” he agreed. “After a few years of experimentation, a friend of mine suggested the melons weren’t self-pollinating properly, so?—”
“So you needed to plant some flowers nearby to attract bees and butterflies!” I finished as understandingdawned. “And your sister picked sedum? What a great idea. My uncle used to plant marigolds near his tomatoes for the same reason.”
“This year, we had a bumper crop of cantaloupe, just in time for Iris’s second pregnancy.” He grinned. “Only took four years to make it happen.”
“Worth it,” I said happily. “Cantaloupe’s really an underappreciated fruit.Greaton a charcuterie board.”
Watt smiled so hard his eyes crinkled, which was really kind of sweet. “You’ll enjoy the little gift basket Iris left for you guys at the campground.” He considered me for a moment. “You know, I do some gardening classes—kind of a community outreach thing—and that friend I mentioned tricked me into running a booth at the local farmer’s market where I diagnose people’s plant maladies. Since you’re going to be in town a while, I’d love it if you’d?—”
Reed cleared his throat and pointedly shifted his gear from one shoulder to the other. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “but could you show us to the campground before you chitchat?”
