Page 43

ANTON

One Year Later

“I’m not allowed one clue?”

I can’t help but laugh at Sawyer’s accusation—not question, accusation—as I ease my truck over the berm at the front of the grove.

Her apprehension isn’t unexpected; she is blindfolded and belted into the passenger seat of my truck, only working off the knowledge that I want to show her something, but that it’s a surprise.

And Sawyer isn’t exactly a fan of surprises.

“What? Don’t you trust me?” I tease.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

“It’s just that you don’t trust me…”

She swats at me, missing by more than a few inches, even without me ducking out of the way. I laugh again, unable to help myself, my entire soul feeling as light as air.

“You know that I trust you,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. “Wholeheartedly.”

I smile, my heart squeezing. Because I know she does. She doesn’t have to say it. Everything about her tells me every single day.

“We’re almost there. Promise.”

“It’s killing me.”

“Perishing is not allowed. Not today.”

Putting the truck in park, I kill the engine, then look over at my girl. The nerves radiating off her are palpable, like little cartoon bubbles I want to pop one by one until they are all gone. That won’t solve anything though.

The next part of my plan will, however.

I hop out of the truck, circling around the front and rushing over to the passenger side door, trying to get there before she tries to open it herself. Succeeding, I catch my beautiful girl off guard, holding out a hand to help her out.

“Hi,” I greet, taking her hands.

“Hiii…” She does her best to keep the suspicion out of her voice, but it’s still there. “Anton, do I need to be worried?”

“Sawyer, no.”

Holding on to her hips, I squeeze gently, letting her know I’m here, and I’ve got her. I feel her relax into my grip as she sighs, her expression softening.

“Would you feel better if I took the blindfold off?”

“Is it going to ruin your plan?”

“I can adjust.”

“Then yes.”

I shake my head. I should have known that the blindfold would be too much for her. Reaching up, I tug it off, her hair getting tousled with it for a second. And I’m a goner.

Catching my eyes with hers, Sawyer looks up at me, those deep brown irises holding on to me, hypnotizing me the same way they did the first time she pulled up to my fruit stand.

If I’d had any idea then the incredible woman they belonged to, I wouldn’t have wasted a single second trying to push her buttons and get under her skin .

Okay, that’s a lie too. I absolutely would have still done that. Because getting Sawyer Brown all riled up is still one of my favorite things to do. The list of ways to accomplish it is simply longer now.

“Better?”

“Yeah…” Reaching up, she cups my face, running a thumb across my cheek. A shiver zips down my spine, despite the humid temps, proving how much this woman owns me. “Much.”

“Good.”

Sawyer slides out of the truck, holding on to my arms, peering around me and taking in her surroundings. “The original grove?”

Back to the accusations masquerading as questions…

“Yup.”

I link our hands, not saying another word, and lead her down one of the aisles. A soft breeze blows, rustling the leaves, the faint smell of fruit filling the air.

“This is going to sound silly, but I think this is my favorite of the groves,” Sawyer says, going with it. “I know I shouldn’t play favorites, and please don’t tell the others. Especially the saplings.”

“Ha!” I guffaw. “Don’t tell me you don’t play favorites, because I know you have a favorite tree, Sawyer Brown.”

Sawyer stops, crossing her arms and pretending to be upset that I called her out. “Look, just because you’re jealous of my relationship with Clyde…”

“One, I am not jealous of anyone—much less a sapling—named Clyde ,” I tell her, uncrossing her arms and wrapping them around my waist. Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her softly, nibbling on her bottom lip so she knows exactly how not jealous I am.

“And two, I still can’t believe you named the tree Clyde. ”

“Cary informed me I was not allowed to call a peach tree Birch Reynolds.”

“So you went with Clyde?”

“He’s the orange ghost in Pac-Man . It made sense in my head!”

I laugh, kissing her again. Fuck, do I love this woman.

Everything about her, from the way she takes things too seriously, to how she bosses me around, to the silly side only I get to see.

Her love of science and knowing how things work is second only to helping those around her, and watching her become a part of Hickory Hills—and my family—has been amazing.

More than that, being allowed into her world has been even better. With each passing day, it’s clearer to me that she’s exactly who I’m meant to be with. And this life that we’re creating together is perfect.

Taking her hand again, I lead her deeper into the grove, my heart starting to race as we approach the stump. I want everything to be perfect, just like her.

“My little know-it-all, knowing all the ghosts’ names in Pac-Man ,” I tease, knowing exactly which button it’s going to push. In my head it’s small, purple, and just under her left arm along her rib cage—why, I don’t know, but that’s how I picture it every time I push this one.

“I held the high score at Penny’s Arcade for years!”

Right on time…

She reacts exactly the way I expect, her brows furrowing, her voice taking on the very specific pitch, as she turns to glare at me. I hit that purple button dead-on.

“Actually, I still might for all I know,” she mumbles.

“I’m aware; you’ve shown me. And it’s oddly impressive.” I stop, slipping in front of her, cutting off her view and stealing a kiss. “Okay, time to close your eyes again, just for a minute. ”

Sawyer nods, doing as I ask. Stepping behind her, I cover her eyes with my hands, guiding her the rest of the way to the clearing, where everything is all set up.

A knot forms in my stomach, twisting and turning, my own nerves kicking in.

I’ve fucked up a lot of things in life, and this cannot be one of them.

“Ready?” I whisper into her ear, dropping my hands. “You can open them now.”

Sawyer gasps, hands flying to her face. I slide to the side, giving her a moment to take it all in.

The custom-made half-Georgia, half-Alabama picnic blanket is decorated with flickering battery-operated candles, miscellaneous chocolates handmade by Tizzy, and an unmarked bottle chilling in an ice bucket, the setting summer sun behind it, framing it just right.

“Anton!”

“C’mere.” I take her hand, pulling her down onto the blanket, my mind racing with what to start with first. Chocolates? Kisses? Cuddles? No…I know. “Drink?”

“Is…is that what I think it is?”

I nod, loving the excitement in her voice. Doesn’t matter that there isn’t a label; she already knows.

“It’s your peach wine.”

“Squeeee! And we can drink it? Really?”

“Sure can. Milo and Brandt assure me it’s ready for consumption.”

Sawyer’s eyes light up like a tree on Christmas.

Last year was the worst year for peaches on record since the 1950s, which means we had plenty of duds when it came to fruit coming off the tree.

I can sell a grade one peach to a grocer, and a grade two at a farmers’ market or at a roadside stand, but there’s technically no such thing as a grade three.

Unless you’re Cary and me and use that made-up term to refer to culled fruit we feed to livestock around town.

Or give my brewery-owning brother to make booze out of.

“I can’t believe we made this.”

“You made this,” I correct her, opening the bottle and pouring some into the two plastic cups. “I played no part in it.”

“It was a fun science experiment. Not as much fun as soil, but seeing it all go full circle was neat.”

Handing her a cup, I hold mine up. “To us.”

“To us.”

I take a sip, the sweet liquid flowing over my tongue, giving me an instant rush. It’s much sweeter than what I would normally drink, and probably not something I’d ever opt for again, but given the occasion, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be having.

“It’s…interesting…” Sawyer comments, taking another sip. “It’s really sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you.”

Leaning forward, I cradle her face, capturing her lips in mine, sealing my super cheesy comment with a kiss.

But not just any kiss—one that lets her know how much I mean that super cheesy comment.

One that I want her to feel from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

So that she can know how much I mean this next, even cheesier comment.

“I want to taste it on your lips forever.”

“Forever, huh?”

Here goes nothing…

“Yeah, Sawyer. Forever.”

I pull back, breaking away from her just enough, while still holding her gaze.

My heart stops for a split second, then jackhammers back to life, like the horses exploding out of the gate at Churchill Downs.

My head is spinning and my stomach is debating putting up a fight, yet somehow, I’ve never been more steady.

Never been more sure of anything in my life.

“Sawyer, this is one of those moments that a man should probably know what to say. Truth be told, I’ve rehearsed it in my head a hundred times and it sounded perfect each and every one of those times, but fuck if I remember a single one of the things I was going to say now that I’m here.

All I know is this—I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you.

You’re my partner, in every sense of the word.

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you trusting me with your heart has been the greatest honor of my life. ”

My voice catches, my emotions taking over. Sawyer’s eyes turn glassy, her bottom lip quivering, making my insides melt.

“I only hope to be the same in return. That you’ll continue to trust me with your heart, and with your life.” I push up to one knee, digging into my pocket for the ring I stashed there. “Sawyer Brown, be my partner, my better half. Marry me?”

Choking out a sob, Sawyer nods, hands flying to her face. Or, at least I think she nods. It’s hard to tell with the tears streaming down her face.

“Is that a yes?”

“O-of course!”

Lunging at me, Sawyer nearly knocks over the bucket with the open bottle of wine. I catch her in time, saving the both of us—and the blanket—from being soaked. Not that a wine-soaked blanket would be the end of the world. Not when my fiancée is in my arms.

My fiancée.

I like the sound of that. At least until I get to call her my wife.

Slipping the ring on her finger, I kiss her slowly, savoring her sweet taste mixed in with the lingering hint of the peach wine. It goes straight to my head, making me dizzy, like I threw back the whole bottle. But Sawyer is better than any drug out there.

“You are the best thing I never had planned, Anton Hayes,” she says, settling into my lap.

Drawing her into me, I tuck that wild strand of hair back, loving it more now than I ever have, already picturing it years from now as we grow old together.

“Same, Sawyer Brown. I kicked myself for letting you drive away from my peach stand that day without getting your name, but I told myself that it was fine, because it seemed like you didn’t really like me anyway.”

“I didn’t,” she giggles, the sound fizzing through me like champagne bubbles.

“But then you walked into my lab, bossed me around, and that was that.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it all comes down to one thing.”

“Just one?” I raise an eyebrow, curious as to where her brain is going.

She nods, her own impish smile taking hold. That’s when I know it’s going to be good.

“Thank God for good directions…”

Peaches, peanuts and pecans are Sawyer and Anton’s life. But what it there’s a fourth P? Find out what surprises are in their future in this bonus scene !

She wanted to see the world. He chose Hickory Hills. Ewan Hayes has regretted that choice every day for the last ten years. But now she’s back - and she hasn’t forgotten the pact they made as kids. In fact, she’s looking to collect…