Page 83 of Resting Beach Face
I went out to the garden to harvest some strawberries, then stopped in to grab my keys to head to town. Cash was awake and dressed in his work clothes from the night before.
“Hey, I’m going to grab Kat and get out of your hair. Thanks for letting us stay last night.”
“Anytime,” I said, and meant it.
He came to the doorway, his feet bare, and kissed me. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I hope to stay over again sometime, if you…want that?”
I should tell him no. I didn’t yet know what my future held, and the more we did this, the more danger there was that I’d hurt him.
“Anytime,” I said again—and meant it.
Damn, I was in too deep already, wasn’t I? The way his eyes lit up, I suspected he was too. We were in this together, good or bad.
Pearl was eagerly waiting for me when I got to her table at the Outdoor Market.
“Well, it’s about time you brought me some of those famous strawberries!” she exclaimed, making grabby hands as she watched me approach with a box of the freshly harvested fruit.
“I think you meanus,” Ruth Marie said, crossing the path to join us at the table covered in Pearl Pantry jams. Peach, blackberry, traffic jam—a mix of multiple flavors—and her Ozark specialty, tomato jam, were on display.
Meanwhile, Ruth Marie’s table held jars of brandied peaches, pears, cherries, and other fruit mixes. The two were notoriously competitive vendors.
“You don’t even need strawberries,” Pearl said dismissively.
Ruth Marie squawked, “And what do you think folks use for their strawberry shortcake?”
“Store-bought topping, most likely.”
Ruth Marie drew in a sharp breath, and I cut in before this turned into a repeat of the food fight incident at the last Dock Hop food festival.
“There’s enough for you both.” I chuckled. “I’ve got more strawberries I can harvest if you think you’ll use them.”
Pearl instantly turned her attention to me. “Aren’t you just the sweetest man? People say you’re a grouch, but they don’t see how you put your love into the ground.”
“Er, thanks?”
“Are you growing more tomatoes this year? They were so delicious! Really made my tomato jam shine.”
“Ah, well, I don’t know,” I hedged.
Once I sold the B&B, I’d be working as a financial analyst again. I didn’t know if I’d have space to garden, much less time to do it. And, of course, I’d be nowhere near Swallow Cove.
My stomach turned over uncomfortably.
“Your fruits and veggies are always such a treat,” Ruth Marie said. “I imagine you could sell them here at the market if you wanted.”
“I wouldn’t want to take business from Burt.”
Pearl waved a hand. “Oh, he can hardly get the produce out here anymore. He sells at a road stand closer to the farm.”
“Oh, well…” I trailed off. “I hardly grow enough for all that.”
“I guess not,” Ruth Marie said. “You’d need a greenhouse and a lot of time. I don’t blame you for not wanting to take that on alongside the B&B.”
“Right,” I said, guilt prickling at me.
I hadn’t told the ladies I was selling the B&B and leaving town—and for some reason, I didn’t want to say the words.
Hudson strolled up, a cardboard box bearing the Hot Buns logo of the new bakery.
