Season of Dreams (14 page)

He threaded his fingers through hers. “I know these kind of events are a pain, but there's a real benefit to putting our faces before the processors. I want these people to know Marsh Orchards is alive and well. If you're with me, it'll reinforce that.”

Eva nodded. Put like that, how could she refuse to schmooze? But then, to keep her hand wrapped in his,
she'd follow him anywhere. “As long as you stay with me. I'm no good on my own.”

“You got it.” He led her back to the ballroom where the band played soft music.

The songs were barely detectable over the din of conversation, but Eva could hear it well enough as Adam navigated them easily through the crowd. He introduced her to a few growers that were part of a co-op. Then they moved on to meet a national fruit processor whose eyebrows shot up toward his fake hairline when Adam explained that Eva was his farm manager, not his wife.

But Eva's stomach had flipped when she heard the lilt in Adam's deep voice. The sound of him pronouncing the word
wife
rang through her brain over and over. Beth was right. Eva wanted to be Adam's reason to stay. And she couldn't help but wonder what it might be like if they ran the orchard together as husband and wife. Life partners instead of business partners.

Adam sighed with relief when the dinner announcement was finally made. Clarifying his relationship with Eva was getting old quick. Even people Eva knew asked if he was her boyfriend. He'd almost said yes to see how Eva might react. Was she ready for that step?

Bigger question—was he?

There was only one way to find out.

Once seated and served their appetizers, Adam concentrated on the program delivered by Ryan's research team regarding the challenges facing today's fruit grower. He glanced at Eva. She swirled her appetizers around her plate with a fork.

“Not hungry?” he whispered.

She leaned close and whispered back, “I don't like stuffed grape leaves.”

He moved his plate toward hers. “Hand 'em over.”

She rolled the appetizers from her plate to his with her knife. She stifled a giggle when her knife screeched against the china, drawing annoyed stares from their tablemates.

“Nice move,” he whispered.

She gave him a mischief-filled grin that made him wish they were back out on that balcony.

By the time dinner was over and dessert and coffee had been served, all Adam could think about was getting Eva away from everyone. He wondered if this might have been how the first Adam felt when Eve offered up the apple. Only his Eva offered a business deal he couldn't make and a future he couldn't plan until he broke even after harvest.

He'd love to cement a more permanent working relationship with Eva, but he cared too much for it to be only business. If he made mistakes, he wanted it on his dime, not hers. That farmhouse was all she had left of her family's legacy. He wouldn't let her risk losing it.

If the balcony was better left off-limits, at least he could take her out onto the floor. “Wanna dance?”

She looked at him with wide eyes and hesitated only a moment before giving him her hand. “Absolutely.”

The band played a big-band version of Van Morrison's “Brown-Eyed Girl.” Perfect. He led Eva toward a far corner of the dance floor that was already filling up.

“I haven't done this in a while, so forgive me if I step all over you,” Eva said.

“No problem. I'm used to you hurting me.” He twirled her away from him and then tugged her back, winding his arm loosely around her waist. She felt so good in his arms.

She laughed. “Hey, how can you say that?”

“Hmm, you froze my fingers, knocked me over, poisoned me and got me stung by your uncle's bees.”

“You got yourself stung. If you'd have left them alone…”

“I know, I know. They would have flown away.” He spun her again.

They stayed on the dance floor through a couple more songs and Adam could not have cared less about mingling. Eva's steps were uncertain at first, but after another upbeat tune, she snuggled when he pulled her closer.

That balcony beckoned.

“Want to get some air?” he asked.

“Sure.” Did he detect a catch in her voice?

He took her hand to leave, but the lights dimmed and the band began a slow, slow song. He couldn't resist the excuse to pull Eva even closer. “We can't go yet.”

She looked up at him with those smoky-rimmed eyes. “I guess not.”

As they swayed to the music, he didn't look away from her. As he stared into those big, chocolate-brown eyes of hers, their steps faltered until finally they made slow circles in the same spot.

He ran his finger along the side of her cheek. “You're beautiful.”

Pleasant surprise registered on her face. “Really?”

He tightened his hold. “Really.”

She smiled and dipped her head onto his shoulder.

Breathing in the scent of her hair, Adam brushed his lips across her forehead.

She pulled back and gazed at him with a question in her eyes.

He recognized it as the same one he had asked himself often enough. Was there any point to ignoring this connection between them any longer?

Forgetting that they were on a crowded dance floor,
Adam slipped her arms up around his neck. Feeling her fingers tease the back of his hair, he lowered his head.

They fit perfectly together. Maybe she really had been made for him. Just for him.

Inhaling Eva's sigh, Adam kissed her.

E
va waited for Adam to put his ridiculously fast car into Park before she said anything. When he turned off the engine, she turned in the passenger seat. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

He faced her. “Look, Eva, about tonight—”

She placed her finger on his lips. Eva didn't want to discuss what happened on the dance floor. It was magical and special. She didn't want to ruin it by breaking it down. “I had fun.”

“Me, too.” He grabbed her hand and slowly kissed her palm.

With a start, Eva pulled her hand away. She took a calming breath, but it did nothing to ease the nervous shiver than tickled her spine. “Maybe, we should say goodnight.”

“You're probably right.”

But neither of them made a move to leave.

“Eva.” Adam ran his hand through his hair, messing it up. “I want to explore what we've got going here, but I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for.”

He was giving her space. After that incredible kiss on the dance floor, Eva was scared to go too fast too soon. “I appreciate that.”

Only half of Adam's face was visible from the porch light shining through the windshield, but his smile was sweet. “Then I'll see you tomorrow.”

He made her feel like the peanut butter to his jam, but would Adam Peece be satisfied as a PB and J kind of guy when he came from a world of caviar? She'd have to find out. “Good night, Adam.”

He flashed her another smile. “That's the second time you've used my name. The first was in the emergency room.”

Eva shuddered when she remembered Adam's mottled face from the allergic reaction. “I still feel bad about that.”

He shrugged it off. “I like the way my name sounds coming from you.”

She liked saying it. Even more, she liked pairing it with her own name. Adam and Eva. Did it get any cornier than that? “I can't promise you that I'll use it all the time.”

He chuckled. “Don't worry. I'd miss you calling me Peece.”

She slipped out of the passenger side, before she gave in and leaned close. “Well, then, good night, Peece.”

“Eva, wait.” He got out and came around the front of the car. “Let me at least walk you to the door.”

She gave him a half-grin. “I suppose I owe you another kiss after such a wonderful night, huh?”

When they got to the porch step, Adam's hand slid down her arm, halting her. “You don't owe me anything, Eva. I'll never push you that way. Got it?”

She looked into his serious eyes. He'd taken her off-the-cuff comment as an insult. Staring at him, she battled between her desire to make it up to him and the common sense to accept his patience. “I'm sorry.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “Good night, Eva.”

Adam watched her slip quietly into the house before he trotted down the porch steps and got back into the car. After she switched off the outside light, he backed out of her driveway.

Humming the song they'd slow-danced to, Adam drove home. He'd never been in a long-term relationship, and Eva was the kind of girl who wouldn't settle for anything less. He'd keep his promise not to rush.

God?

He didn't even know how to pray for the two of them.

Give me wisdom. Help me show her that she can trust me. That I won't hurt her—

He stopped mid-prayer. He'd never been serious about a woman before. How was this supposed to go? He certainly didn't have a solid example of marital longevity to follow.

All he knew was that he thought about Eva day and night. For now, that was enough to build on. The kiss they'd shared on the dance floor only made him want more. But Eva wasn't ready for more, and he'd respect that. He shifted into overdrive, pushing the gas pedal harder than he should.

Problem was, Adam wasn't so good at waiting. He didn't want to blow his chances by being impatient. Eva was worth waiting for. No matter how long it took.

 

At first Eva didn't hear the ring of her phone over the din of the mowing attachment on her tractor. She flipped open her cell and read the caller's name.
Adam
.

It felt like butterflies were trapped in her belly. “Yessir?”

“Do you see those clouds coming in from the west?”

Eva stretched her head around. Dark clouds hovered over the lake, already dropping rain with a grayish blur from
sky to water. She'd been too busy daydreaming about yours truly to notice them, not to mention that she was mowing the lower section of the orchard, which had a limited view. “I see them.”

“How long do we have until that hits?”

“Not long.”

“Better get to the barn.” Adam hung up.

“Okay,” she chirped at her phone. Could he have given her the chance to say something, anything, like maybe “see you in a few minutes”? Why was he being so curt?

Looking over the acreage left to mow, Eva stifled a growl. They'd been on a roll and would have the mowing done by this weekend, Memorial Day weekend. But now…

The air had a definite chill to it. Cold rain was on its way, making it unpleasant for mowing. By the time she pulled the tractor into the barn, the icy water fell, splashing the ground in a soft, steady rhythm. It was the kind of rain that coaxed a person under a blanket with a book or snuggled close for a nap.

She popped down from the tractor while Adam shrugged into a sweatshirt. She looked out of the still-open barn door as rain dripped inside. “Ready to make a run for it?”

He reached behind her father's file cabinet in the corner. Adam had moved in a few things, turning the small space into a makeshift office. He fluffed open a big black umbrella. “I'll walk you to the house.”

“I won't melt.”

He laughed and tugged her underneath the umbrella. He smelled like freshly cut grass, rain and motor grease. Heady stuff. “You might.”

Her pulse picked up speed. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Sometimes you remind me of spun sugar.”

“Cotton candy?” She stopped walking and squinted up at him, hoping he thought she was pretty like a huge pink puff of the stuff.

“The kind you make over pastry. It's hard but fragile.”

Her breath hitched as his gaze sucked her in. “I don't break that easy.”

“That's because you're staying up on the shelf.”

“No, I'm not.”

That wasn't quite true. They'd gone out twice this week—to the movies and then to dinner the other night. Both times she'd pulled back too quickly when Adam had tried to kiss her. She liked the safety and control she had on that shelf. But Adam wanted her to step down. Not all the way, but some.

He shook his head like she was a lost cause. “Come on, let's get to the house.”

Together they closed the main door and then darted across the driveway and yard, sloshing water as they went. Adam pulled her close under the umbrella, but she still got wet. Her jeans were soaked by the time they got to the porch. Adam's were, too.

They walked into the kitchen warmed by a chicken dinner baking in the oven. Beth's turn to cook.

“Hey, Adam.” Her roommate bustled about. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Love to.” He was already kicking off his muddy boots.

Eva slipped out of hers, too. “I'm going to change. Would you like a pair of sweats, Peece?”

He ran his hands through his hair, smoothing the places that stuck out. “Nope. I'm fine.”

When she returned, the rain outside had stopped as quickly as it had come. She found Adam in the living room watching the weather forecast and looking worried. “What's up?”

“They're calling for frost tonight.”

Her stomach sank. “But isn't the rain going to stick around a while?”

“Quick-moving front with cold, dry arctic air behind it.”

Her landline rang with unnerving volume and Eva ran to grab it. “Hello? Hey, Dad. Yeah, yeah, he's here.” She handed the cordless to Adam. “It's my father, for you.”

“Hey, Bob. What's up?” Adam didn't sound the least surprised to get a call from her dad.

How many calls had he exchanged with Robert Marsh? Eva talked to her folks every weekend, and not once had her father let on how often he talked to Adam. Why hadn't they filled her in?

After he'd handed the phone back to her, Adam headed for the door. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To rent some propane heaters.”

“Dad, I'll call you later.” Eva didn't wait for her father's agreement. She ran out after Adam. “I'll go with you. We can take my truck. You won't fit those things in your Jeep.”

He nodded and climbed into the passenger side of her pickup, his cell phone to his ear. Once he ended the call, he buckled in. “The rental place in Traverse City is holding a dozen or so for me.”

“We can't protect the whole orchard with that few.”

“I know. Your dad's worried about the low spot. If we can keep that area of the orchard warm enough, he said we might be okay.”

“Unless it's a bad frost. There's only so much we can do.”

Adam shook his head.

“What?”

“That's exactly what your dad said you'd say.”

Eva gritted her teeth. “That it might be a lost cause?”

“That and you'd complain about the expense.”

She slammed the stick shift into the next gear, pleased that her truck ran quietly since Adam had worked on it. He had more talent than she'd given him credit for. “It's your money.”

“Another reason not to become partners. You give me grief as it is when it's my money. Imagine if yours was mingled in there, too.”

She glanced at him. “You never gave me a first reason.”

“Didn't think I had to.” He looked out of his window.

Eva noticed that his jaw was tight and his face brown from days spent mowing the orchard without a tractor canopy. “You don't.”

She should know better than to argue. She knew Adam was worried about the frost, but instead of encouraging him, she gave him a hard time. She nitpicked.

Why?

Could it be that she cared more for Adam than what was comfortable? She couldn't control him any more than she could her feelings. Her safety shelf moved down a notch when she realized that maybe it was because she loved him.

 

Adam woke from a knock on the truck window. He checked his watch. Twelve thirty. Again the knock sounded, interrupting a dream he could barely recall. Eva. He rolled down the window. “What are you doing out here?”

“I thought you might want some help lighting the heaters.”

He rubbed his eyes. “What's the temp?”

Eva showed him the thermometer. “Thirty-four de grees.”

“Wow. That dropped fast.” He'd set his cell phone alarm to go off at one in the morning.

Adam planned to check the temp every hour until it was close enough to freezing to light the heaters. Then he'd hook up the giant fan that he and Eva had loaded in the truck's bed to a generator. Every hour he'd blow the air around from different points on the slope of the orchard's hill. It might be a futile attempt, but he didn't want to lose any part of his crop. Not without a fight.

“Hop in,” he said.

Eva hoisted a picnic basket between them.

He peeked inside and smiled. “What have we here?”

“Oatmeal cherry caramel cookies, coffee and a sliced chicken sandwich if you're hungry.”

Adam reached for a cookie. They were still warm. “You really know how to kill a guy, don't you?”

She was bundled up in a knit hat and an old down ski jacket that had been patched with duct tape. Her eyes looked sleepy. He'd never thought she looked prettier. “What are you talking about?”

“Homemade cookies straight from the oven.” He patted the side of his chest where his heart beat with a strong inclination to pull his farm girl close. “Right here, Eva. You're killing me right here.”

Her eyes widened and she blushed. “We better get those heaters lit before it gets much colder.”

Always business, his Eva. What she didn't say with her lips, her baked goods spelled out a whole lot of caring. For him. He'd offer his heart to those pastry-floured hands of hers if he could. But he'd promised they'd go slow. For both their sakes, he'd honor that promise until the harvest was completed by the end of July. If God allowed the weather to cooperate.

“You going to start the truck or sit there staring at me?”

He swallowed his mouthful of cookie and grinned. “You're awfully cute in that hat.”

“And you're silly when you're tired.”

“Then be silly with me.”

“Like we'll have a ton of fun keeping the orchard warm.”

“Why can't we? God will honor our effort.”

“And what if He doesn't? Bad things happen.” Her brow furrowed.

He knew that as much as she did. “Doesn't mean we stop giving Him our all. That's the true test of faith, isn't it? To keep loving Him when it's tough, even after we've lost what we hold dear.”

Too bad he hadn't lived up to his words. Once his mother had died, he gave up on honoring God. Sure, he'd only been a kid, but he knew right from wrong. He purposefully went his own way for years until he was sick to death of the emptiness.

“It's not always easy.”

He brushed the crumbs from his fingers. “I know.”

Eva's eyes looked black at night. Deep, dark pools of hardened hurt. She was thinking about that guy who'd hurt her. She blamed God, and she still held on to her fear.

He softly cupped her chin. “I've been everywhere doing everything without an ounce of peace at the end of the day. There's nothing worth having without God, Eva.”

She stared at him hard, as if weighing the truth behind his words. Eva had what he didn't have—loving Christian parents and a clean life. And yet there was bitterness in her. Fear.