Page 21 of Apple of My Eye

Chapter Fifteen

Eloise

Possible Nicknames for Nick (and his reaction to them)

– Nick-O—‘Why would I want to rhyme with Jell-O?’

– Nickerdoodle—‘I mean, I love those cookies, but no.’

– Nickel—‘Why would you even suggest that?’

– Nickeroni—‘You are terrible at this.’

– Nick Knack—he didn’t even bother responding to this one

‘We’re just friends,’ I repeat to Mom. She rolls her eyes.

I’m saying it more for myself at this point.

We technically are just friends, aren’t we?

I still haven’t told him about the loan, about what him succeeding in his capstone project will mean for me.

I flip-flop between being worried I’ve helped Nick too much and feeling confident there’s no way social media alone can turn things around.

It doesn’t matter how much I help him; the Parkers still go bankrupt.

But in case they don’t, I’ve started working on a contingency plan—weddings.

Even though the thought of repurposing land that’s perfect for farming into a venue makes me want to gag, I can’t ignore the financial upside to obtaining an events permit.

I even brought it up to Dad. We both think that West Barn could hold one hundred people.

Despite being ‘just friends’ with Nick, I’m still spending longer getting ready for dinner than I ever have.

We throw an annual welcome dinner for the seasonal workers every year.

Mom makes her lasagna, and over the large meal introductions are made, shifts are bargained for, and return workers stake out their claim to the best jobs.

Usually I walk to dinner still sweaty from a long day on the farm.

This year I’m showered and blow-drying my hair before I shimmy into a gauzy sundress and a cardigan.

Dinner marks the entrance into fall. After this week, we’re basically in September, the days get shorter and the cool breeze welcomes in London fog lattes and sticky toffee pudding cakes.

Mom switches out her bathrobes, wrapping herself in thick terrycloth every morning.

Dad starts to wear his flannel pajamas. I feel a thrill of excitement thinking about fall, it’s my favorite season.

Fall somehow feels both like swirling change and relaxed coziness.

By the end of the week, having the workers here will feel normal. But until everyone has settled into the rhythm, the farm feels chaotic, buzzing with energy, just like our beehives.

Nick arrives for dinner in a button-down shirt and jeans. I feel my heart skip a beat when I open the door for him. I can’t pull my gaze away.

‘What? Is there something on my shirt?’ He picks it up by the hem and examines the line of buttons. By the time he looks up I’ve regained my composure.

‘Your shirt is great,’ I reassure him. Just then, Mom sweeps by.

‘Nick!’ she exclaims. ‘Don’t you look handsome.’

Nick reddens and it’s so endearing that I feel a tingle all the way down to my toes. I haven’t stopped thinking about how it felt to grab his hand and pull him towards East Barn, how I felt like my heart was hammering so loud I didn’t know how he couldn’t hear it.

‘You don’t look a day over twenty, Hazel.’ Nick smiles at Mom before glancing my way, his eyes raking over my blue patterned dress. I shift my white cardigan and it falls off one shoulder, leaving it exposed to the breeze of chilly night air that flits through the door.

Nick places a hand gently on my bare shoulder as he walks into the house. His fingertips leave heat marks on my bare skin. My breath catches in my throat.

‘And you,’ he says, turning to look at me once more, ‘you look beautiful.’

I can’t even begin to hide my grin. My chest feels like it’s full of champagne bubbles.

I’m rooted to the entryway as I listen to Nick make his way towards the kitchen.

I hear a muffled thank you for the apple salve I gave him a few days ago and an immediate request as to what he can do to help.

Mom puts him to work without a moment’s hesitation.

Seconds later I hear ‘Lou, can you grab the salad?’ Not even a chore can make the fizzy feeling leave my chest.

‘Eloise Anderson?’ Nick sidles up behind me, speaking louder than he normally would to counteract the noise of the crowd. My pulse quickens. I smooth out my dress with my hands.

There’s about fifty people scattered at folding tables behind us.

I’m standing at the food table with my back to the crowd, getting my second helping.

The evening has been smooth sailing so far.

Nick has fit right in, so much so that no one questioned why he was here.

I’d like to think it’s because of the hints I’ve been dropping him about how to fit into a small-town dynamic, but he would fit in without my advice.

People love to talk around here, and Nick is ready to listen.

‘My full name this time?’ I say. Secretly, I think we both know I love that he doesn’t use my nickname. Eloise sounds so rich in his mouth, so special, like we share a secret language. Eloise .

‘I’m glad you made it, Nicky!’ I raise my plastic cup full of red wine to cheers him, my drink sloshing precariously close to the rim.

‘Nice try, but only my mother calls me that.’

We sit next to each other on foldout chairs.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ I say between mouthfuls, ‘have you started your TikTok?’ I haven’t been able to bring myself to google it.

If it’s going badly, that means it can’t help me in the future.

But if his TikTok has taken off that means the Parkers may stave off their bankruptcy.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ Nick says, a devious smile spreading across his face.

‘Nothing’s up yet, but I’m launching before this weekend.

’ He walks me through an explanation of the algorithm, when it makes sense to pay for ads, how to maximize your reach, and how to determine your target audience.

Eventually he clocks my expression. ‘You’re not the only one who knows things, Eloise.

I’m gonna drive a crowd to the farmers’ market this weekend, you’ll see. ’

‘We’ll see about that,’ I try to mumble playfully, but his plans have me feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of his TikTok blowing up in popularity. I wonder how quickly I can get the events permit. Maybe I need to email town hall to expedite it.

He whips out his phone and passes it across the table towards me. ‘That’s what I have so far,’ he explains, but right as he says it, a huge dollop of red sauce starts to slide off his fork. His eyes widen but his reflexes are too slow, and it splats in his lap.

I can’t help but laugh and he joins right in. ‘Goddammit,’ he says, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘you can’t take me anywhere.’

I push back from the table. ‘Follow me,’ I say, leading him towards the house.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, we’re enveloped in quiet. I can still hear the faint hum of the crowd outside, but the house is silent. ‘There’s stain remover in the laundry room,’ I say, knowing he’s still following me as I weave through the downstairs.

Even though we’ve spent a lot of time together, something about being alone in my house at night makes my heart beat faster.

Nick steps into the laundry room right behind me, and when I turn around to find the stain remover we’re standing chest to chest, as close as we were that very first day on the farm, when the hose exploded everywhere and I thought, just for a second, that he might kiss me.

‘Eloise?’ he prompts gently.

‘It’s just back there,’ I say, managing to recover my voice. I point to a shelf behind Nick. Suddenly, I’m parched. My mouth is so dry that I lick my lips.

Nick glances at my mouth. When he looks back up at me, and our eyes meet, I feel my knees go weak.

I’ve wanted to kiss him since I saw him in the general store.

Even when he pissed me off. Especially because he pissed me off.

Even though I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve wanted to rip off his shirt every time he delicately handled an apple like it was made of glass.

And even though I know it’s a terrible idea, even though I know he’s leaving and I haven’t been honest with him about the Parkers .

.?. Well, maybe that’s the silver lining of his leaving, right?

He leans in closer to me and I breathe in his familiar cinnamon smell.

My thoughts dissipate like the softest cloud of morning fog.

Ever so gently, he wraps a hand around my waist, reaching his palm to my lower back, and he tugs me closer to him.

Heat builds beneath my belly. Instead of thoughts I just have desires. Him. Closer. More.

Our chests press together and I can feel his heartbeat. My nipples tighten. Nick’s eyes stray to my lips, hungry and dark.

‘Eloise,’ he whispers, almost breathless. ‘Can I—?’

I’m nodding before he can finish his sentence, the glass of wine having knocked down the last remains of the crumbling walls I had tried (and failed) to build to keep this from happening.

It’s such a dumb idea. And yet I can’t help but tilt my hips forward, our bodies melding as his mouth crashes into mine.

His lips are strong and sure, his tongue expertly claiming my mouth as our kiss deepens and my insides melt, my knees weak.

Damn . My mind can’t form any coherent thoughts except Damn .

His mouth is hungry and before I know it, I’m panting as his lips press soft kisses down my throat.

In an easy movement he grips my ass and hauls me on top of the laundry room counter.

I wrap my legs around his waist and intertwine my fingers in his hair.

Damn. A breathless moan escapes my mouth and he answers with a low grumble in his throat.

He nips at my bottom lip and my hips arch forward, the increased contact letting me feel the size, the hardness of him.

‘God,’ I whisper in between kisses. I feel his smile against my collarbone, his lips as light as feathers as he kisses my throat.

The washing machine rumbles next to me, shaking with the movement of a spin cycle and God if Nick had placed me on top of that vibration I think I might have exploded already.

I lean back, exposing my chest to him, feeling like my body is acting entirely on its own accord, when I hear it. I freeze. No. No. No.

‘Lou?’ I hear again. My eyes fly open.

‘Are you in here?’ Mom’s voice rings out through the house.

I jump down from the counter as Nick hastily re-tucks in his shirt, smoothing back his hair with a hand.

‘Here!’ I try to call out, but my voice comes out strangled. I clear my throat and try again. ‘In the laundry room, Mom! Nick spilled!’

‘Thanks for that,’ Nick whispers. I can still see a hint of blush dappled across his cheeks.

Nick seems to have recovered but I still can’t see straight when Mom steps in behind me and aggressively directs Nick to the stain remover, tsk-ing as she does so about how he’s let the stain sit for too long already.

Nick catches my eye as I walk out the door and smiles so big it almost runs off his face.

I brace myself once I get into the hallway, resting a palm on the wall. My heart is thundering. On one hand, that was bad. I should not have done that, not when there’s so much at stake. But on the other hand .?.?. damn, that was incredible .