Page 9 of Trick or Tease

SAbrINA

I pushed through the screen door and let it slap shut behind me, breathing in the familiar scent of cinnamon that always seemed to cling to every surface in Granny Mae’s kitchen.

Whether it was cinnamon rolls with the amazing cream cheese frosting or the softest snickerdoodles, her kitchen always smelled like cinnamon.

The warmth wrapped around me like a hug I desperately needed after spending the day in the car with Garrett.

My god. The man sucked all the oxygen out of the air. His presence was undeniable. So big. And masculine. And handsome.

And damn, he smelled so good. The whole ride back I tried to puzzle out the notes of the cologne he wore.

There was definitely something spicy to it.

Maybe pepper. And patchouli. It was a little heavier than I typically like in a cologne but it worked on him.

It matched his personality. Serious. Heavy. Dominating.

“There’s my girl,” Granny Mae called from where she stood at the counter, her flour-dusted hands working a ball of dough. “How was your trip?”

I slumped into one of the mismatched chairs around her worn wooden table, the same spot I’d claimed as a kid whenever I’d needed somewhere to think. “Long. Really long.”

“You kids stayed in the city?”

I loved that she still called us kids. “We did.”

I was suddenly embarrassed. Like I did something wrong. I was a grown woman. I could kiss a man if I wanted to. I could even take a man to bed. But there was no way I was telling Granny about any of that.

Seeing Garrett again had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. He looked at me like I was a stranger. And undressed me with his gaze at the same time. It was such a contradiction. He wasn’t the same boy I knew. It had me all mixed up.

“Billy said he hopes Garrett will come back to help with the farm situation,” Granny Mae said, rolling out her dough.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I said.

“Is he going to make it home for the party?”

“Actually, yes. We brought him back with us.”

She paused and looked up at me. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yep. I rode back with him.”

Granny stopped rolling and looked at me with eyes that saw too much. “Garrett Hogan, huh? I remember how you used to look at that boy.”

I groaned. “Gran, don’t start.”

“I’m just saying. Looked a lot like the way I looked at your grandpa the first time he danced with me after choir practice. Horny as a billy goat.”

I laughed despite the shock. “Grandma!”

“You and your father wouldn’t be here if I was a prude. I mean, I wore white to my wedding, but I shouldn’t have.”

“Garrett’s definitely better looking than ever,” I admitted. “And he’s doing well for himself in the city. Really well. He’s not the boy I used to moon over when I was younger, you know? He’s a man now.”

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, like I was trying to convince myself it was no big deal. Seeing him had brought back all those old feelings I thought I’d buried years ago, and a few new feelings had awoken as well.

“But nothing can ever happen between us,” I continued quickly, needing to say it out loud. “He’s going back to the city after the retirement party. And I’ve got real plans for the farm. Best to focus on that.”

Granny Mae wiped her hands on her flour-dusted towel, studying my face with those sharp blue eyes that never missed anything.

She was a lie detector test wrapped up in wrinkled skin and eyes that could stare directly into your soul.

“That’s good, honey,” she said finally. “It’s easy to get swept up in old feelings, especially when a man looks good in a suit.

But there’s no point in setting yourself up for heartbreak. ”

She was right, of course. She always was. Garrett had made his choice a long time ago when he left Greenleaf in his rearview mirror and never looked back. I’d made mine too. I could have mentioned the way I felt, but it seemed silly back then.

And it still was. I saw where he lived. His life. There was no way he would ever look at me. Well, he would look at me, but I got the feeling he’d look at me long enough to get off and then he’d move on. I was not interested in being his farmgirl plaything.

“Besides,” I said, forcing a smile, “I’ve got too much work to do to get distracted by some fancy city lawyer who probably thinks our whole operation is quaint.”

But even as I said it, I could still smell that spicy cologne of his, still feel the way my pulse had jumped every time his hand brushed mine. The way he looked at me.

The almost-kiss.

Granny Mae’s knowing look lingered on my face for another moment before she clapped her hands together, sending up a small puff of flour. “Speaking of which, are you ready for the retirement party tomorrow night?”

“I am,” I said. “I’m excited for all of the Hogans. Billy is thrilled to finally be officially in charge. And I know his parents are looking forward to taking a giant step back.”

“I hope you’re here to help me make pies.

Apple, of course, and maybe a peach cobbler.

I promised I would bring dessert.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“And I bet there’s a certain big city lawyer that would love some homemade pie.

A little welcome-home gift for Garrett. Remind him of what he’s missing out on in the city. ”

I groaned. “Granny, you’re not subtle.”

“Never claimed to be.” She set a basket of apples on the counter in front of me along with a paring knife. “Start peeling and slicing. Thin, even pieces.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I picked up the first apple. I didn’t think it was possible to count the number of apples I had peeled in my life.

It had to be in the millions. Since the time my parents trusted me to hold a knife, I’d been peeling apples.

It felt like the entire month of October was spent peeling apples.

Canning, freezing, and drying. Living next door to an orchard was an endless supply of free apples.

And my parents had a few fruit trees of their own.

The repetitive motion of peeling away the red skin in long, curling strips was exactly what I needed. My hands knew this work by heart. I could do it with my eyes closed and not cut myself. I’d been helping Granny make pies since I was tall enough to reach the counter standing on a wooden stool.

It was the best therapy. I had a feeling that’s why Granny made so many damn pies. It helped her think. It was her way of relaxing, and despite the arthritis that had been creeping up the last couple of years, she still did it. She was famous around town for her pies and other treats.

Slice, turn, slice, turn. The sweet scent of fresh apples mixed with the lingering cinnamon in the air was a hit of calm. My shoulders finally started to relax for the first time all day.

Romance wasn’t even something I’d thought about for a long time.

I’d been so focused on making something of myself, on the farm projects, on building a life here that mattered.

I wasn’t ready to be having these thoughts about anyone, much less Garrett, who would pack up his expensive suits and go back to his life in a few days, never to look back again.

Just like he had before.

I was not about to let a schoolgirl crush turn into a legitimate heartbreak. And Garrett would absolutely shatter my heart. I wasn’t one to believe in fortune telling, but it didn’t take any spiritual gifts to predict that future.

“How’s the corn maze coming along?” Granny asked, starting to roll out another piece of dough. “Billy mentioned you two have been working on making it a big feature this year.”

I paused mid-slice, my knife hovering over the apple. “It’s coming along. We’ve got the maze part figured out. Billy did a great job with the layout.”

“But?”

Of course she heard the hesitation in my voice. “But I had some ideas to make it actually scary, you know? Not just wandering around lost between cornstalks. I thought we could add some real thrills.”

“What kind of thrills?”

“Well, I was thinking we could have people hiding in the maze. Maybe some jump scares. Creepy sounds. Make it feel like a real haunted experience instead of just a pretty walk through some corn.” I set down my knife and turned to face her.

“But everyone shot it down. Billy thinks it’s too much.

Lucy said it would scare away families with little kids.

And Garrett?” I rolled my eyes. “Garrett thinks the whole thing is silly anyway, so why bother making it actually entertaining?”

Granny Mae let out a hearty chuckle that made her whole body shake. “Oh honey. You want to scare people, don’t you?”

“Is that so wrong? It’s October! It’s supposed to be spooky season!”

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You always did love a good ghost story. Remember when you were about eight and you convinced half the kids in town that the old Hogan house was haunted?”

“It could be haunted,” I protested, though I was smiling now too. “We don’t know for sure it isn’t. Other people have their own stories about that house.”

“Mmm-hmm. And you just happened to have a whole story ready about the headless farmer who roams the property looking for his lost pumpkin.”

I picked up another apple, trying not to laugh. “That was a good story.”

“It was a terrible story, but you told it with such conviction that poor little Tommy Mitchell wouldn’t go near that hill for two years.” She shook her head, still chuckling. “His mother gave me an earful about it at church.”

“I was fostering his imagination.”

“You were scaring the bejesus out of him, is what you were doing.” Granny Mae’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That place has plenty of ghosts already. You don’t need to go inventing more.”

Two hours later, I grabbed a leftover apple slice off the counter and munched it, letting the sweet tartness distract me from the way Garrett had looked at me on his balcony last night.

He looked at me like I was something special.

The juice ran down my chin and I wiped it away with the back of my hand, something that would have horrified the perfectly polished women I’d seen in his apartment building.

“All done,” I announced, surveying our work.

Granny Mae nodded approvingly at our creations. “These will be perfect for the party.”

“Always are,” I said.

I washed my hands. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and walked home to my parents’ house.

Back in my childhood bedroom that night, I stared up at the familiar water stain on the ceiling that had been there since I was twelve.

I had stared at the stain for so long I convinced myself it looked like a rabbit, or maybe a cloud, depending on how I tilted my head.

Outside my window, I could hear the distant lowing of cattle settling in for the night.

The sound should have been comforting. It always had been before. But tonight it just reminded me of everything Garrett had left behind, everything he clearly thought was beneath him now.

Me.

I was a product of Greenleaf and I wasn’t ashamed of it. I got the feeling he was.

I rolled over onto my side, pulling my grandmother’s quilt up to my chin. Even its familiar weight couldn’t quiet the restless energy thrumming through me.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

It wasn’t like I didn’t know better. I’d watched him walk away from Greenleaf once before, watched him choose his big city dreams over everything and everyone here. And now, seeing his life, it was crystal clear that nothing had changed.

If anything, the divide between us had only grown wider.

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out all thoughts of the one that got away.