Page 23

SAWYER

“I was starting to think I was never going to get you to myself ever again.”

Anton’s crooked smile tilts even more to one side as he sizes me up, dragging his eyes up and down my body, like I’m one of those massive tomahawk steaks and he hasn’t eaten in a week.

I shake my head, taking his outstretched hand and stepping into his house. “I’m not the one who spent pretty much every night since he got back from Atlanta either in one of the fields picking peaches or in the packing plants shipping them out.”

Such is the life of a peach farmer at the peak of the season, after all.

I know this year has been different since they’ve only managed to salvage a small fraction of the harvest, but this week resembled a more normal schedule.

Which meant that both Anton and Cary—plus the rest of the Hayes crew—were full steam ahead to pick, wash, inspect, measure, and ship out as many peaches as they could.

The coolness of the A/C hits me, sending a shiver down the backs of my bare legs.

I don’t have time to react though, because Anton’s arm is around me half a second later, pulling me into him, the heat from his body chasing away the chill.

He steals a kiss, the brief contact barely enough, leaving me wanting more.

“Says the girl who every time I looked, or called, or asked my parents where she was, was told she was in the lab…” he teases, poking my side.

Guilty…

I pull my lips into my mouth, not bothering to hide my guilt. It was a busy week all around.

“The numbers are looking really strong, if could we just?—”

He cuts me off with a kiss. A sweet, glorious kiss that I can feel everywhere.

Everywhere. One that leaves my whole body aching for more of him.

All of him. His lips are the perfect combination of soft and strong, and his hands hold me in all the right places.

And if he continues like this, I’m going to forget how to breathe.

I’m also going to forget what I was talking about.

Actually, I might have already done that.

"You were saying?" he asks, smirking like he knows exactly what he just did. Because he so knows what he just did.

"I have no idea…"

Tightening his grip on me, he kisses the tip of my nose. A soft, sweet gesture that makes my insides settle. Eliza’s insights are starting to make a little more sense now.

“Want to see the house?”

I nod, looking around the small entryway.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I rolled up to the single level, yellow farmhouse—complete with a classic Southern covered front porch—surrounded by peanut fields, just as Anton had said.

Maintaining its historic charm on the exterior, the interior has clearly been updated .

“Anton House is small, as far as old Southern farmhouses go. It was originally four bedrooms, dining room, sitting room, and an outhouse,” he says, drawing me farther in.

We pass an office off to the right side, opposite two bedrooms and a bathroom, then into a great room that melds living area, kitchen, and eating area, with a massive window that overlooks a large, covered deck and rolling meadow.

“Over the years she’s seen a couple of different configurations thanks to some new inventions—i.e. indoor plumbing.”

“Big deal, that.”

“Yes.” He nods, slipping his hand in mine, leading me through the living area.

A rounded bar-counter with stools marks off the kitchen area, with a dark wood square dining table adjacent to it, closer to the window.

“There’s a mudroom through the kitchen, and then over on the other side of the living room is the owner’s suite. ”

“It’s…” I pause, trying to find the right word.

There’s only one that comes to mind though—comfortable.

Anton has the place decorated in soft earth tones, mixed in with warm, dark wood furniture.

His overstuffed couch and chair look like they could swallow you whole, and there is a part of me that is dying to let it.

Everything matches, but in a way that is subtle and pleasing, and not matchy-matchy or over the top.

It’s just enough to make you feel at home.

“It’s what?”

“Would you be weirded out if I said perfect?”

One side of his smile lifts, making my skin prickle. “Nope.”

My tummy somersaults, not knowing how to react that he’s not taken aback by that answer. Or that he’s not saying anything else. Just standing here staring at me. Smiling.

Shit. I should do something.

I…I…I …

Faster than I can think, an arm wraps around my waist. I hold my breath, expecting another kiss, feeling Anton lean in. But he catches me off guard, stopping, pressing his forehead against mine. Leaving it there.

Holy fuck…

Time stops. Nothing exists but him and me. It’s like he’s trying to read my thoughts. To know my deepest innermost secrets. Truth be told, I am this close to telling him too.

“If you wanna go get comfy on the couch, I’ll go grab plates and the pizza.”

“Will I be fully compensated by Hayes if I get lost in the cushions and your couch eats me?”

“Not my couch’s tongue you gotta worry about…” he sasses, eyes immediately going wide. Stepping back, he lets go of me, hands flying up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Make a bad joke?” I tease, giving him the out.

Last thing I want is him feeling like he can’t be himself around me. Because oddly enough, it’s that self I think I’m starting to like.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he defends, walking backward toward the kitchen.

I shake my head, heading over to the couch, picking my spot and making myself comfortable. I kick off my flip-flops, pulling my legs up underneath me.

“Eh, it kinda was. Couches don’t even have tongues.”

“Technicality.”

He places the pizza and two plates on the coffee table, and we serve ourselves.

“So,” he mumbles around a bite of pizza, “tell me about this job you’re after.”

I stare at him for a second. That is not where I thought he was going with that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to talk about it, but I would have lost serious money had I bet on the topic of conversation for the evening .

“Lead Soil Research and Development Manager. Basically, a fancy way of saying I would oversee all the different procedures and projects the department has going on across the state when it comes to soil. It would be a big jump from my current role, since I would be over not only projects, but people, and interacting with other groups.”

Anton nods, chewing his pizza slowly. “But it’s all theoretical, right? Or, administrative? You wouldn’t be running any of the actual projects?”

“Oh, there will be plenty of admin. I’d still be involved in the research portion. The lab work. But I wouldn’t be in the field, if that’s what you mean.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really want to be a lab rat? Rather than out in the real world?”

I consider the question. “I love what I do. I love trying to find ways to help farmers be sustainable and produce more. I feel like I’m contributing something to the world. Helping make the world a better place and securing a future.”

“And you think the best way to make the world a better place for your future kids is from a seat in a lab?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Although, I don’t think I want kids.”

That last part slips out faster than I can stop myself. So fast that it makes the conversation come to a crashing halt. Maybe even faster than my screaming no did the other day when we were making out in the field.

Anton stares at me, jaw slack, mouth open, pizza midway there, like he cannot believe what I just said. Yup. I just killed the mood.

I heave myself to my feet, using all the energy I have to make it up off this extra deep couch, sliding my empty plate onto the table. Heat rushes to my cheeks, pure mortification setting in.

“I’ll see myself out. ”

“You will do no such thing,” Anton demands. “Sit your cute butt down!”

I stop.

Come again?!

“You think my butt is cute?”

“You know damn well I do,” he says. I eye him suspiciously. Because to be fair, he’s made it no secret that he’s attracted to me this last week. But he’s also never specifically said anything about my butt. “More importantly, I would like to hear about that last statement.”

I plop back down on the couch, closer to him this time, one leg curled up under me and one draped down the side, and sigh. Confiding in Anton may feel natural, but that doesn’t make it easy.

“I seem to find myself telling you things that I don’t tell people,” I admit, letting out a little wry laugh.

Anton sits up, reaching out and taking my hand.

Squeezing it, he smiles, sending me the confidence I need to continue.

“I don’t have this desire to be a mom. It’s not that I don’t like kids.

I mean, not any more than I don’t like other people.

But, I dunno. I basically raised my brothers.

I’ve played that game and didn’t like it.

I want to be able to focus on my career, and I guess that sounds selfish, but I feel like it’s probably more selfish to have kids just because I’m ‘supposed to,’ rather than because I really want them. ”

“I feel the same way.”

Huh?

Now it’s my turn to be confused. I look at him, my head tilted slightly, and I realize I’m probably looking at him like a dog listens to a high-pitched noise. But I do not follow.

“It’s absolutely way more selfish to have kids just because you’re supposed to, rather than because you really want them,” he says .

Oh, that. Yes. Well, at least he understands what I’m getting at.

“One of the biggest reasons I don’t want them.”

HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE…

Anton chuckles, tugging on my hand gently. The soft pull is more than enough to pull me into him, my body going willingly, even if my mind is too stunned to react.