“Has to,” Barney replies, frowning down at his boots, hands on his hips. “Cause I refuse to do any replanting of the produce we’ve already put in the ground this year.”
It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a low-yield crop this spring. We don’t rely on it as our main source of income. But I’d hate to see all those crops go to waste after we poured so much effort into those fields and any business is good business for our fledgling farm.
I was actually starting to look forward to bell peppers.
“Where’s the kid?”
I scratch at my eyebrow. “With Layla this morning. She was showing him how to stock inventory.”
Meaning she’s making him lug the giant sacks of flour and sugar that she picks up at the wholesaler into the bakehouse. Stella gets on me for forcing manual labor, but I’m pretty sure Jeremy will come crawling back to the fields after an afternoon with Layla. She runs her kitchens like a pit crew, but with frosting and pastel sprinkles.
Barney gives me a sly look. “And the girl?”
“The girl’s name is Evelyn,” I mutter. And she’s not a girl. She’s a woman wrapped in temptation, topped with an eager, honest sincerity that makes my chest feel hollow. Spending time with her, getting to know her—I only like her more. Which is a problem, when she plans to leave without a backward glance in a couple of weeks.
Hopefully, right now, she’s sitting in a big field of flowers. I picture her there, her hands cupped loosely around a blossoming Queen Anne’s Lace, the white blooms bright against her dark skin. I picture myself there with her, my nose in her neck, her skin sweeter than the flowers around us. Her laugh free and warm.
I sigh and dig the palm of my hand into my shoulder and try to ease out some of the tension. I swear I’ve turned into the tin man since she started sleeping in my house. A bunch of rattling cans, looking around for where the hell my heart got off to. “She’s somewhere around here, I’m sure.”
Barney straightens suddenly, his hand shielding his eyes against the sun. “Closer than you think, yeah?”
The smile on his face wilts and then falls off completely. I follow his gaze to a hunched figure stumbling over the hill. The rattle in my chest turns to a roar as Evelyn pauses at the very top of it. There’s no mistaking her dark hair or her long legs as she sways in place, arms curled tight around herself. I’m already striding forward when Barney mutters a curse under his breath.
Something is wrong.
“Is she okay?”
“Get the Gator,” I call over my shoulder, picking up my pace to a jog as Evelyn stumbles to her knees and then collapses to her side. I lose sight of her in the tall grass and my heart seizes, a numb feeling creeping up over my legs. When I was twelve-years-old, I bet another boy in my class I could clear one of the fences at the produce farm with a single jump. I remember running at the lopsided thing full-tilt, the brambles from the bushes scraping at my bare legs. I remember the weightless feeling of propelling my body up and then the clip of my shoe against the fence. I smacked into the ground with a sickening thud, the wind knocked clean out of me. I stayed there flat on my back and tried desperately to suck in air, everything spinning around me.
It’s like that now as I race to the top of the hill and find Evelyn curled up on her side in the grass. Her wet hair is plastered to her face, her clothes soaked and clinging to her skin. Whatever jacket she was wearing has long been discarded and her body tucks tighter, knees to her chest, as she tries to conserve any warmth she has left.
Fuck, it’s barely above freezing out here and she’s soaking wet.
“Evie,” I breathe, hands hovering over her before I turn her on her back. She blinks up at me with dazed eyes, teeth clenched tight around the shivers racking her body. I curl my palm around the nape of her neck and the sound she makes splinters right through my chest.
“Hey,” she says, her voice a rasp. She tries to smile but all she manages is a grimace instead. “I f-f-f-fell into the p-p-pond.”
“What the fuck were you doing?” I ask, aware that I’m yelling for no reason. But I can’t stop myself, not when her skin is faded to a dull brownish gray and she can barely keep her eyes open.
I glance over my shoulder as I cup my hands above her elbows, her skin so goddamned cold I curse under my breath. I slip my fingers away and fumble with my jacket, ripping it off my arms and tucking it around her. Not that it’ll do her much good with her clothes soaking wet. But she clutches it to her chest like a lifeline and buries her nose in the collar.
“Come here,” I tell her, hands shaking. I tuck one beneath her shoulders and the other under her knees and lift her against me. Water slips down my arms and I adjust my jacket tighter around her. She groans the second her cheek presses against my neck and I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth.
She’s freezing.
“W-w-was finding so-some hap-p-p-y,” she whispers into my neck, hands draped loosely over my shoulders. I slip my palm under her wet shirt until the material bunches at my wrist, rubbing hard at the small of her back. I want to rip the sun right out of the sky and urge it back into her skin, smooth my palms over every inch of her until she’s glowing with it again.
“How’d that work out for you?” I breathe against her forehead, watching as Barney finally appears on the Gator. He’s driving the thing like a mad man, taking the turn around the fence like a bat out of hell. I start to head in his direction, careful to keep Evelyn close.
She snorts a laugh into my skin that sounds like a whimper, her nose pressed tight to my throat. “C-c-could have been bet-t-t-er. Thanks.”
Barney hits the breaks and a cloud of dust rises around us, eyes wide in his tan face. He takes one look at Evelyn in my arms and his mouth flattens into a thin line.
“How long has it been?”
I clamber into the front seat with Evelyn and wrap myself around her. Over my dead body am I laying her in the backseat. “Don’t know,” I tell him. I nose into her wet hair and trace my palm over her stomach, trying to pour all of my heat into her. Her hand curls around my wrist and she holds me there, squeezing once.
“W-walked from the p-pond,” she answers with another rolling shiver as Barney takes off with a rumble, heading towards my cabin. I plant my boot against the floor of the small truck and hold on. The pond is easily half a mile from where we are now and who knows how long it took her walking like this. “My ph-phone was in my po-po-pocket.”
“You said you were taking a break, right? You don’t need it.” I can’t believe she’s thinking about her phone when she can barely string two words together. A hot flare of frustration knocks behind my eyes followed by bone-deep panic.
She’s too damn cold.
“W-w-why I didn’t c-c-call you,” she explains, tilting her head back to narrow her eyes at me. Her hand squeezes my wrist again. “G-grumpy.”
Damn right I’m grumpy. I’m also terrified. Fucking furious with myself.
Barney comes to a screeching halt in front of my cabin and I immediately climb out, my hand protectively cupping Evelyn’s head, her face still tucked in the crook of my neck. Every brush of her ice-cold skin against mine is like a warning drum, beating inside my skull. Get her inside. Get her warm.