Page 15 of Keepsake
I studied my fingernails until he composed himself. “Sorry to startle you,” I said gently. “I’m waiting for Griffin to give me the rest of the employee orientation. Apparently you and I are selling apples together tomorrow. What do I need to know?”
“Are we?” His face got a little red if I wasn’t mistaken. Some people were sensitive to the heat, though. He must be one of them. “Let’s see. There’s only one important detail about the market at Norwich,” Zach said, kicking a foot up onto the truck’s runner.
“What’s that?”
“The donut vendor in the far corner is a heck of a lot better than the one in the center.”
I smiled at him. “That’s it, huh?”
“That’s pretty important. There’s nothing like a cider donut.”
“True. We should talk Griffin into making them on pick-your-own weekends.”
“Because that man needs another business to run.”
I laughed. “You’re right. Never mind.”
“My only real trick for farmers’ markets is to make sure I don’t leave the calculator in the truck. I hate dealing with other people’s money. Griffin knows that, though. That’s why he’s sending you to the market with me. Because I don’t mind lifting crates, but I hate making change.”
“I don’t mind either of those jobs, honestly. Sounds like fun.”
When he smiled again, his cheeks pinked up a little. God, he was cute. I loved a man who blushed easily.
“So…” I cleared my throat. “I just wanted to apologize for waking you up last night.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, lowering the truck’s hood. “It happens.”
“Well…” I cleared my throat. “It happens to me a lot. Although I’m hoping to kick the habit. And I really don’t want May to worry about me. So I appreciate that you didn’t say anything at breakfast today.”
Zach studied me without comment, his head tipped slightly to the side. I’d never met anyone whose looks were so…golden. He almost shimmered with health. If that’s what a few years on a Vermont farm could do for a person, then sign me up.
I crossed my arms, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “If it happens again, I’ll buy everyone a pack of earplugs. And a case of beer.”
He chuckled, and the sound made me feel warm inside. “All right. No big deal.”
I grinned at him, because I just had to. All that male beauty, and it was smiling at me.
Zach stepped away from the truck, giving it an appraising glance and then a sort of slap on the flank, the way you might touch a horse. “Kept her running for another week. Isaac’s truck is held together by spit and duct tape, mostly. Someday I’m going to convince him to junk it.”
“It’s kind of cool, though.” It had a rounded, old-fashioned shape. “1950s, maybe?”
Zach’s eyebrows flew up. “1954. Good eye.”
“For a girl. I could hear you thinking it.”
He dropped his head and laughed again. “Busted.”
“I’ve seen a lot of farm machinery, big guy. Don’t underestimate me.” I followed the line of the truck around to the driver’s side where I found a logo and a name painted on the old metal panel. I pointed at it. “‘Apostate Farm’?That’s an odd name.”
Zach’s smile faded. “Isaac and Leah grew up in kind of a cultish religious sect out West. They ran away together with nothing when they were both seventeen, so buying the farm was a pretty big deal for them.”
Jesus. “What a story. That’s why they named their place Apostate Farm? How cheeky.”
“I guess,” he said, shifting his weight. “But they weren’t really trying to be funny. The point is that someone else might get out of that place alive. If a runaway figures out how to Google ‘Isaac and Leah Abraham in Vermont’ they’ll get web hits for Apostate Farm. Then they’ll know they’ve found the right place.”
I felt my jaw drop. “Wow. Does anyone ever show up on their doorstep?”
Zach jammed his hands in his pockets before saying, “I did.”
