Page 6 of Cider Kissed By the Mountain Man
I’d never wanted to stay in someone’s arms so badly. Which was wildly inconvenient, given he clearly wanted to toss me back on the ladder just to prove a point.
“Trent here,” he answered, his voice clipped and professional. As he listened, his expression grew increasingly grim. “Damn it. I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and scrubbed a hand over his face in a gesture I’d already recognized as his go too when he was stressing. “There’s an irrigation problem in the north grove. I have to go.”
“Of course you do.” I stepped over to pick up the ladder, mostly to give me something to do. He took it from me and propped it against the tree on the ground. Safety first, I mused,suddenly wanting to see him when he forgot about rules and regulations, and control. Lordy, how I wanted to see him lose control. “Should I just... wait here? Come back later?”
“You’re coming with me.”
I blinked at him. “You want me to come with you? Even after I nearly killed myself with basic ladder operations?”
“Especially after that.” His scowl was back in full force. “Can’t have you getting into more trouble while I’m gone.”
I couldn’t help one more smart-mouthed comment as I followed behind him. “So this is like... behind-the-scenes access?”
That earned me a sound between a grunt and a growl.
And suddenly, I was very happy that I’d chosen a visit to an apple orchard as my class’s field trip.
CHAPTER THREE
Trent
The irrigation problem was a complete disaster, and having Abby Foster helping was making everything ten times worse. Why? Because she was distracting as hell.
Three main lines had burst overnight, flooding half the north grove and leaving two dozen trees sitting in muddy water that would rot their roots if I didn’t get it fixed fast. I’d been dealing with this kind of crisis for years, but her beside me in the middle of the mess was making it hard to concentrate.
She was knee-deep in mud, her jeans soaked through and her dark hair escaping from the ponytail she’d put it in. She looked beautiful. Determined and fierce and completely out of her element but refusing to back down.
“Hand me that wrench,” I said, pointing to the toolbox I’d sit down on dry land. She picked her way carefully through the mud, and I held my breath waiting to see if she’d fall. Instead, she made it there and back without incident. “See? I can be helpful.”
“Don’t get cocky. The day is young.” Her grin hit me harder than it should have.
She passed it over, her fingers brushing mine in the process, and I felt that same jolt of electricity I’d been trying to ignore all morning. Ever since I’d caught her falling off that ladder, ever since I’d held her against my chest and felt how perfectly she fit in my arms, I’d been fighting the urge to touch her again.
It was dangerous territory. I’d learned the hard way that mixing business with pleasure was a recipe for disaster. But looking at Abby—covered in mud and completely focused on helping me solve a problem that had nothing to do with her—was making me question every rule I’d made for myself.
I didn’t have room in my life for this. Not for flirtation. Not for feelings. Not for the way she looked at me like I was worth figuring out. It was a damn problem. And I was letting it grow roots.
But I had to admit, she wasn’t entirely useless. She watched what I was doing and started anticipating what tools I needed before I asked for them. It was... not terrible. Having an extra pair of hands, even slightly clumsy ones.
“So, does this happens often?” she asked, gesturing to the flooded ground around us.
“Often enough. These lines are older than you are, and replacing the whole system would cost more than I made last year.” I tightened the last fitting. “Just another glamorous day in paradise.”
I turned the water back on and waited. I could feel her watching me. It was distracting, the way she studied everything I did like she was filing it away for later. Most people got bored watching manual labor. She seemed genuinely interested, which was almost worse than if she’d been complaining.
She wasn’t just surviving the mess—I think she might have been enjoying it. Like she was built for chaos and had no idea what it did to me.
“Oh, for the love of—” I heard her mutter, followed by a splash and that same creative cursing she’d used yesterday.
I looked up to find her sitting in the middle of the biggest puddle in the grove, covered in mud from head to toe and glaring at a tree root that had tripped her up.
“Let me guess,” I said. “The tree root jumped out at you.”
“Shut up,” she said, but there was no real heat in it. “Just... don’t say anything. I know exactly how this looks.”
“It looks like you’re sitting in a puddle.”
