Page 36 of Make it Real
Jed: You’re captaining that ship, matey
Callie: I thought I was captaining the SS PDA
Jed: You’re in charge of the whole fleet
Callie: Wouldn’t that make me Admiral?
Jed: Whoa there, you’re flying up the ranks
Callie: Maybe the farmers’ market on Saturday? Seems like a good low-key second date
Jed: Aye aye
Callie: You’re a goof. How about eleven?
Jed: See you then, Cap’n Callie
He showed up at my door Saturday morning right on time. Also on time? Gran conveniently having something urgent to do in the living room. But since every minute of this arrangement had been planned out for her sake, I wouldn’t complain she’d come out to witness a little more of it.
Until she did more than just witness.
When Jed rang the bell, she managed to be closest to the door, mostly by standing around until he’d reached the porch. She welcomed him in, and he greeted her with perfect politeness. But when he turned to find me and his face lit up with a grin, all the air whooshed from my lungs.
He wore a T-shirt and jeans, his damp hair almost black, sticking up in places like he’d just run his fingers through it. Dark stubble accentuated his jawline, and his caramel-brown eyes sparkled with mischief. My stomach dove, and my cheeks warmed as though I’d never looked at a man before.
Although, let’s be honest—no other man looked quite like Jed.
“Callie Lou,” he said, grinning away at me.
“Jed, hi.” I’d suddenly become as shy as a fifteen-year-old girl, and just as speechless. I loved the way he said his nickname for me, teasing and tender both at once.
“I expected to see you again before now.”
“Gran.” I goggled at her boldness.
He went right on smiling, unfazed by her prodding. “I should have been by sooner. We’ve been working around the clock with harvest, and I didn’t want to give Callie less than my best.”
She side-eyed him as though debating whether or not to accept his very sweet explanation. “Well. I suppose I can understand that. I like a strong work ethic.”
“Not many slackers in the farming community.”
“Is that what you plan to do for the rest of your life?”
I had to fight a rude eye-roll. Only Gran would ask a man for his fifty-year plan.
“The farm’s got my name on it. Can’t very well give it to someone else.”
He seemed cheerful enough, but he didn’t say itwashis plan, or even what he wanted. Did he have doubts? Hopes for something else? Did he even expect to stick around Magnolia Ridge? I filed my questions away for another time.
“Where are you off to today?”
As though she didn’t already know.
“Callie’s taking me to the farmers’ market. She said it’s a must-see, and I’ve never gone.”
“Your farm doesn’t have a booth there?”
“No, ma’am, we sell out every day at our farm store. Never saw the need to add the market in town.”
