Page 162 of Jesse's Girl

“Uh, well, I don’t pretend to be an expert, but I’ve got farm experience—in Australia, though. Not here. What are you planning on doing?”

He tells me about his idea: offering new landscaping services geared toward folks who want to grow their own food, from simple veggie gardens and backyard chickens to—someday—full-scale off-the-grid setups. Apparently, he’s been trying to find someone to consult with and hasn’t found anyone local.

“Realistically, we’d probably start installations early next year—we’re gonna be slammed doing deadfall cleanup for the next few months, and then it’ll be winter.”

“Makes sense,” I say, nodding.

“You looking for work?” Jude asks, putting his hands in his pockets. “Dimitri said you just moved back.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.”

“We could use an extra body starting in a couple weeks. If you don’t mind a few months of grunt work, we could talk about the homesteading thing closer to the new year…”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds right up my alley.”

Ada appears at my side. “What’s up your alley?”

I quickly introduce Ada to Jude, then glance between them when it becomes obvious they recognize each other.

It seems to click for Jude and he snaps his fingers. “The bartender from the engagement party a couple weeks ago! With the roommate drama, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ada says. “Good memory!”

“You never did tell me that story.”

“Well, he’s standing right here.” She turns to me, slipping her arms around my waist.

I plant a confused kiss on her hair and tug her into me. “Hang on. I’m your roommate drama?”

She arches a brow.

I chuckle softly. “Yeah, okay, that tracks.”

“Hey, Jesse,” Jude says, digging something out of his wallet. “We don’t need to get into details right now, but gimme a call if you’re interested in the job.” He hands me his business card.

“Thanks, man,” I say, reading the card. Sharpe Blades Landscaping. “Will do.”

Olena reappears, apparently having left the dog with Dimitri and Katie, and I introduce her to Ada.

“I love your hair color,” Olena says, beaming. “And your tattoo!”

“Thanks!” Ada replies, then casts a long look at the nearby marquee tent for Rare Bird Tattoos, where customers are draped over chairs, getting inked out in the fresh air. “I keep thinking about getting more.”

“Then let’s go check it out!” Olena and Ada drift to the table in front of the tent, and Jude and I follow not far behind. They flip through a binder full of tattoo designs, chatting brightly about which ones they like.

I come closer, peering over Ada’s shoulder. “You really thinking about another one?”

“Always,” she replies, glancing at me before returning her attention to the binder. “They’re addictive. But actually…”

I raise a brow.

She turns, sliding her hands over my hips. “I was thinking about how you should get a tattoo.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Probably, like, a huge tramp stamp,” she deadpans.

I blow out a laugh. “Obviously.”

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