“I am not dainty,” I grumbled as I lifted another crate from the back of the vintage red truck. “And just help me get these crates from the truck and onto the table so I can set it all up.”

Together, Dean and I moved the produce from point A to point B. He was in town for the housewarming party for my sister, Aurora, and his best friend, Talon, who she was married to. They’d been married for about two years now, of which some of that time was a contract, an arrangement to get him access to his family hotel. The rest of the time, they were a lovey-dovey couple who thought each other hung the moon.

Gag.

My entire family—everyone was dropping like flies. Thankfully, my brother and I steered clear of Cupid.

“You work too hard,” Dean said as he set the final crate at my feet. I was busy sorting through the fruits and vegetables, selecting the best to put on the front of the display. Summer was coming to a close, and I knew we’d have a busy weekend. School had been in session for a month already, but the heat and humidity of the summer still clung to the air.

Setting some figs along the front of the market table, I turned toward Dean, wiping my hands on the rag I kept tucked in my pocket, and said, “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

He cocked one of his thick eyebrows, and his tan skin wrinkled along his forehead. “But at what expense?”

I rolled my eyes at him just as the first marketgoers started to arrive. The sun had barely peaked over the trees, illuminating the sky in an orange haze. The customers appeared like little shadows across the expansive lot.

“I know what you need,” Dean said as he popped open a chair and gracefully folded his big body into it, making it seem more like a throne than a camping seat.

In a hushed tone, I murmured, “If you say ‘some dick,’ I’m going to smack you.”

He had the audacity to chuckle. “No, though you definitely could use that too. What I was going to say is that you need a vacation.”

“Yeah, and who would take care of the farm if I took one? You know my dad is retiring, and everyone else if off doing their own things. I’m all Sunny Brook Farms has.”

“And that’s fair to you, how?”

I didn’t offer a response, just rolled my eyes as my first customer arrived. A steady stream of people fell in line to purchase some of our locally grown fruits and vegetables. Sunny Brook Farms’ main produce was corn. We sold it all over the country. But my three sisters and I kept up with my great-great-grandmother’s garden. We sold those items weekly at the farmers market.

Dean didn’t do much more than offer a suggestive wink to the women and mothers as they made their purchases. After an hour, there was a lull in the crowd.

“You know, I won that trip to Scotland. You should come with me,” he suggested, and my eyebrows rose. Dean was aware I was as innocent as they came. I couldn’t imagine letting an experienced man like Dean pop my cherry. “I didn’t mean like that, snowflake.”

“Sure,” I added, chuckling to myself at the thought of Dean being interested in me at all. That was laughable. No one ever showed an interest in me. Growing up, I used to think it was due to my older brother’s influence, but now that he lived an hour away from Ashfield, I was certain it was just me.

“Can you watch the booth while I run to the restroom?” I didn’t bother asking him if he knew what do to. I had faith he paid enough attention earlier.

Thankfully, he nodded, and I slipped out from under the canopy, the sun’s rays immediately causing me to wince. With each step I took across the market, I felt eyes on me. Did they all know I was a twenty-four-year-old virgin? Did they all look at me with wrinkled noses, as if they smelled something unpleasant.

What’s wrong with me?

I relieved myself in the park’s bathroom across the street. As far as public restrooms went, Ashfield prided itself on their cleanliness.

Just as I stepped free, I bumped into Magnolia Hayes. Ashfield’s beauty queen and one of the many reasons I had always dreaded school. She and her clique always found a way to torment me. Not much changed in the past six years, since we graduated. Other than she and our high-school-quarterback husband were pregnant with their third baby. I actually hated how beautiful she still looked. It didn’t seem that karma was on my side.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” the statuesque woman said as she gently rubbed her belly. I may have been small, but there was no way she couldn’t have seen me opening the door.

“Magnolia. How are you?” I almost giggled at the shocked expression on her face. It was so tiring to stay mad at my old schoolmates all the time, so I optioned to be nice and polite instead. There was sweet satisfaction in watching their confused gazes dart around wildly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. They had every reason to be suspicious though. In high school, I was known to give it back just as good as I got it.

“I’m good, thanks. I… er… need to use the bathroom. Baby pressing on the bladder and all.”

“Yes, I’ve heard stories about that. Enjoy your day.” I left her lingering by the bathroom entrance as I made the trek back to my booth. I always did my best to keep a pleasant tone whenever I spoke with my old tormenters. I gave up trying to enact some sort of revenge. Instead, I saw them as potential buyers or customers. Or, at the very least, because it was the mature thing to do. There was only one person who still deserved all my wrath, and he had only shown his face once in this town since he went off to college and was drafted by the Los Angeles Coyotes. His random appearance at my sister’s best friend Frannie’s wedding had thrown the town into a spiral. He was Ashfield’s golden child.

My steps morphed into stomps as I continued to think about the overly gorgeous man who made my life a living hell. Glancing up and across the park, I saw the large sign with his name on it above the baseball field before looking at the ground once again.

Owen Ramsey Played Here.

Even in his absence, I couldn’t escape him. Grumbling, I crossed the street without raising my gaze until I was nearly clipped by a passing car. That’s when, from a distance, I could see there was a crowd growing around the Sunny Brook Farms stand, so I rushed back over to relieve Dean. But I was surprised to find him throwing quips back and forth with Mrs. Hensen, our beloved and notoriously dirty-minded resident of Ashfield.

I hurried over, hoping to alleviate a situation before it escalated. Dean held up a fig that’d been sliced in half and explained to Mrs. Hensen how it was a little-known aphrodisiac.

“They also aid in a woman’s fertility. The Greeks were the first to discover that fact. They’re also incredibly sweet when they’re ripe and plump.” He leaned toward her, holding the fig between his thumb and forefinger, and lifted it closer to her gaze. The older woman looked interested, but as I got near, I could see there was also a gleam there that had me halting in place.

I’d seen that look before.

“Oh, what an interesting fact, young man. Now, if you’re looking for a really salacious vegetable, look no further than celery,” she said as she reached down and grabbed a stalk of the light-green vegetable. “Celery contains a chemical that acts like a natural Viagra. It worked for my dear Mr. Hensen for many years.”

I choked back vomit at the thought of the widowed octogenarian and her late husband going crazy in the bedroom. He used to play the organ for our church, and I refused to believe he did anything sexual. Ever.

“Also, that same chemical ignites the female libido as well,” Dean added, setting the fig back down with one of his sinister grins, as more customers gathered around the booth, enthralled by the back-and-forth between the two.

When he reached for the single pineapple—an item I grabbed from the store to cut up for myself as a snack later—I immediately stepped forward. I knew where he was headed with his next round of comments and information, and there were too many children listening in.

Reaching across the display, I snatched the pineapple from his grasp, wincing as the pointy edges dug into my palm, and set the pineapple back down behind the produce for sale. “I’ll take back over. Thanks for covering for me, Dean. Mrs. Hensen, it’s always a pleasure to see you. What can I get you this morning?”

Her nose wrinkled as she explored the display. The patrons who had gathered began dispersing, realizing the show was now over.

“I’ll take ten figs and four celery stalks,” she replied with a sigh.

“Of course. What sort of concoction are you making this time?” I asked, trying to distract her from the conversation with Dean, who was back in his camping chair with his feet propped up on the table.

“I was thinking of making some fig tarts for the local bake sale tomorrow, and the celery for a Bloody Mary, just because I like a little spice in my life.”

I nearly choked on my tongue at her statement—not that what she said surprised me. Mrs. Hensen always knew how to keep us on our toes. She was quickly on her way after I packaged up her items and took her payment.

When the coast was clear, I spun around and chastised Dean, who sat behind me smugly. “You’re incorrigible.” He knew exactly what he was doing with the elderly woman.

“Ah, she likes it. Anyway, back to my previous statement. You should come with me to Scotland next month.”

Sighing, I turned my attention away from him and leaned against the table, crossing my arms against my chest. I hadn’t been on a vacation since my high school spring break trip with my friend Jenna. Our senior year, we took a very tame trip to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. While the rest of our class traveled to Miami and caused all sorts of raucous, we were sitting poolside with a book and an iced tea as her parents watched over us.

Yep, I hadn’t been on an actual vacation in six years. I couldn’t have gotten any lamer if I tried.

Before I could respond, I felt Dean’s large body press up next to mine as he draped his arm across my shoulders. “Look, kid, I just don’t want you to work yourself into the ground. You’ll wake up one day, and you’ll be thirty, or even forty, wondering what all that work was for.” His words hit me right in my chest. I glanced up at my friend and noticed the forlorn look in his eyes as he gazed across the market.

Uncrossing my arms, I wrapped one around his waist and leaned my head against his chest. “I can’t take the trip with you, but I promise to cut back on the work just a little. Maybe even go out a bit more.”

“That’s my girl,” Dean said, before releasing me and reaching for his phone tucked in his pants pocket.

While he chatted with whoever was on the other end of the call, I rang up the couple who let their kids pick out a bunch of fruit for their lunches the coming week, and there was a steady flow of customers for an hour more. When I looked up after the last person in line, I glanced around at the dwindling crowd. Noticing some of the other booths were already packing up, I started to do the same. Most of the produce was gone, so I packaged up what I had left into a single bag, which I planned to drop off at the church in town. They’d distribute it to local families in need and those in the surrounding counties.