“Well look who is finally here to claim his pie.” Patrick stands from his chair with his hands on his hips. He's wearing pink overalls and a straw hat…wait is that my black buffalo plaid shirt? I've been looking for that. I should have known where it would be. Right with my spare sunglasses, bandana and blue trucker hat. I shake my head, biting back a smile.
“It's only been thirty minutes since it started,” I say, inching close, my gaze trailing from item to item on his table. There's a lot more than I expected. Handmade soap, three types of jam, three different pies, strawberries, apples and peaches. Oh, this little cute thief. At the very left corner rests a chest with ice and six glass jugs filled with fresh squeezed orange juice.
“I don't remember you having oranges in your yard.”
His cheeks grow a bright pink. “I don't. The wind must have blown them over.”
I lift a brow. “That's some strong wind.”
“Okay, okay. I should have asked but…but that orange juice was really good and if I don't sell it today then I'll have an excuse to bring it home.”
I laugh. “Feel free to help yourself anytime. Although I do prefer you ask because I was worried I left that shirt somewhere I shouldn't have.”
His face falls. “Like…like a one-night stand.”
“Eh…sure we'll go with that.”
A muscle in his neck twitches. “Sorry. I thought it went well with my new converse and overalls.” He steps out from behind the table, lifting each of his feet.
“It does,” I agree. “So well, I think I might have to let you keep it now.”
His eyes brighten “Does that mean you'll buy another so we can match the next time we pick fruit off trees together.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I think I'd like to buy my pie now.”
He nods, reaching under the table. “Got another busy day ahead of you?”
I lift one shoulder. “Kinda. Didn't accomplish as much as I would have liked yesterday.”
“Why's that? All those one night-stands?” He scrutinizes me with his eyes.
I grin. “No. It's actually this clumsy little red head's fault. I couldn't stop wasting so much time thinking about him.”
“Thinking about him or watching him?”
“Who knows,” I say, cocking my head.
He digs his nails into the table, the pie in his hand nearly crashing to the ground before I reach over to grab it.
“Shit, I'm sorry.” He adjusts his hat.
“It's okay. I caught it. It's all good. No pie is going to waste on my account.”
Letting out a nervous laugh, his eyes point down and an older lady in a teal dress approaches the table.
“Well doesn't all this just look delicious.”
“I'll catch you later, Patty.” I set down thirty five dollars, adding a jar of strawberry jam to the pile.
“Yeah,” he stammers and I can tell he wants to say more as he watches me slowly walk away. As I'm almost to my truck, I turn around and smile when I see a long line forming at his table. My lips lift higher when I see how much joy wraps around him and for a minute I almost think it could be enough to thaw out my frozen heart. Almost.
I'm checking out my plants when Patrick pulls up in his driveway. Getting out of the car, he doesn't wait for his feet to touch the ground before waving at me.
“Good selling day?” I shout.
He waltzes my way with something behind his back after slamming his door shut behind him. His smile is big and his hips are shimmying from side to side.
“Really good! I sold out.”