Asher
By the time evening settled over Maple Valley, the orchard had grown quiet. The last visitors had wandered back toward the parking lot with their baskets full of apples. The workers were heading home one by one, the long rows of trees glowing gold in the fading light. I leaned against the back of the truck for a moment and stretched my leg. My knee complained now and then, but the doctor had cleared me to move normally again.
I spotted Claire walking back across the orchard with Soleil and Jonah, the three of them laughing about something. The way the sun caught her hair turned it almost copper.
Jonah noticed me first.
“Oh look,” he said loudly, nudging Marc. “The boss is doing the staring thing again.”
Marc chuckled from the ladder he was climbing down.
“Man’s hopeless.”
I pushed away from the truck. “Get back to work.”
Jonah grinned. “Work’s done.”
“Then go home.”
Claire reached me just as the two of them walked off, still laughing.
“What did you do to them?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I shrugged.
“They seem amused,” she giggled.
“They think I’m whipped,” I deadpanned.
Her smile widened. “Are you?”
I stepped closer. “Depends.”
“On what?” she asked, intrigued.
“On whether you’re planning to keep that smile.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“Come on,” I said, nodding toward the truck.
“Where are we going?” she asked, giving me her hand.
“You’ll see,” I said with a sly grin.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s supposed to be mysterious,” I laughed.
She crossed her arms. “Asher.” She said, like she was parenting me.
“Claire,” I smirked enjoying the reaction.
The drive only took about ten minutes. There was a clearing near the edge of the property where the orchard gave way to forest and the land dipped gently toward a small lake. My brothers and I used to camp here when we were kids. When I parked the truck, Claire looked around.
“You brought me camping?” she asked.
“Sort of.” I climbed out and grabbed the cooler from the back.