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I fold my arms. “What does it matter to you?”
Although my property line extends generously into the woods, I’m not just leasing it out to bee-obsessed wackos.
“You could expand the hives and sell this stuff like crazy.” She stops pacing and stops in front of me, staring up, all big green eyes and fierce dreams.
I have to take a step back. I’ve never seen this much passion before.
“I’m not surrounding this place with bees, Winnie. They’re upscale rentals, and most folks in our demographic like their getaways bug free.”
“Okay, okay. That’s fair.” Striding off again, she rubs her temples like she’s trying to think, to find just the right words to convince me to join her next crazy scheme.
Instead, I scope out the place.
The black trash bag is still crumpled on the floor where she left it. I wonder if she’s having second thoughts or if she needs some help getting rid of it.
Leaving everything behind on your wedding day must be damn hard. If her tears the other day were any indication, she’s definitely struggling. At least, shewasbefore the enchanted honey showed up.
Fucking bees.
Of everything that might have pulled her out of that slump, I never expected it to be bees and their weird purple goo.
But this is a place made for rest and relaxation. Surrounding the property with busy hives doesn’t exactly give those vibes.I’ve already had to add a clear disclaimer to the bottom of the property about the bee presence just in case anybody with a serious allergy ever tries to rent it.
Something I don’t think she read before she showed up.
Hell, judging by how she behaves, she didn’t bother reading through the website fully—she checked if it was available and booked it on the fly.
“Are you going to collect it?” Colt asks Winnie.
She turns to him. “Hmm?”
“The honey. Do you have a way to harvest it? If—” He glances at me now, his eyebrows pulled together. Somehow, the boy manages to look so old and young at the same time. “If Dad’s okay with it, I mean.”
Beautiful timing.
Winnie also looks at me. I’m pretty sure I feel the hit like a hornet jammed in my ear.
Goddamn, this woman can speak whole volumes with her eyes alone.
“If it’s done safely and carefully, I won’t object,” I say.
“You can do it if you like,” she tells Colt. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“I meant you, Sugarbee,” I growl. “I wasn’t inviting my son.”
She blinks at me. Her emerald eyes dim, flashing me a dirty look.
I fold my arms. “They’re bees. They’re dangerous when they get riled up.”
“Not unless you’re allergic and you go swinging at their nests. They’re not Africanized killer bees.”
“They can still do damage.”
“Only if provoked.” Her smile drips sweetness, beguiling my son, who’s only just discovered puberty and pretty girls. “I’ll show you guys, okay? Just follow my lead. Or if you want, you can stand back and watch while I do it.”
“Do you have beekeeping equipment?” I ask, my arms still folded. It feels like a me-vs-them situation, but if Colt didn’t look at her with those harvest moon eyes, we wouldn’t be in this situation.
She nods. “Yes, actually. I found some in a shed by the garden. Someone must come by to check on them, huh?”