“It’s so peaceful here.”
“It is. It’s good for the soul.”
I watched him for a moment.
“You only pull enough for one meal?”
He nodded. “Usually for the day—but on occasion, we add things as the day goes along. Everything is fresh every day. The menu is decided on by what is ready and we want to use.”
“All the food is from here?”
He nodded. “We grow all the vegetables and some fruit. We raise the chickens, cows, pigs, and goats, so we have the eggs and milk as well. We have a second farm close to Niagara. We get most of our fruit from there, and we have a small winery as well.”
“Family-run?”
He sat back and wiped his forehead, leaving a small streak of dirt on his skin. “Yes.”
“All family?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“Noah?”
His smile grew wider. “Yes, Dani?”
“You’re not a stock boy, are you?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m—I’m a little more than that.”
“Will you tell me?”
He pulled some more potatoes and handed them to me. I brushed off the dirt as he grabbed a flask of water and sat beside me on the rich soil, drinking deeply. He offered me the container, and I took a sip, liking the fact that his lips had just been on the same spot.
“My family runs the farm. My dad’s been a farmer all his life. Besides running my dad, my mom bakes all the bread and helps at the restaurant.”
“Running your dad?” I chuckled.
“Trust me, all us Edwards men need direction. He would be lost without her.”
“I see.”
He continued. “My sister, Callie, does most of the cooking and overseeing. Her husband John handles all the livestock with my brother Gabe.”
“Who also makes the beverages.”
He nodded, taking another drink. “Gabe loves mixing up drinks—both regular and alcoholic. Wait until you taste some of his cocktails.”
I blinked at him, wondering if it was a given that I would.
He kept talking. “Gabe’s wife, Ella, makes the cheeses we use, and she and my mom do all the preserves, pickles, and jams we sell at the store.”
“Wow—it is a family affair.”
“It is. Our cousins run the fruit farm and winery. We sell our produce through them as well as here, and we sell their fruit. Our wine comes from them. Anything we can’t produce, we get through other certified organic farms—not that there is much. We’re pretty self-sufficient.”
“Farm-to-table.”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do, Noah?”
He grinned. “I pick vegetables and help out pretty ladies in distress.”
I shook my head.
He sighed. “I do a lot of things, Dani. I work in the store, the restaurant, the fields…like I said before, I wear many hats.” He turned to me, his eyes serious. “You thought I was just a stock boy.”
“You sort of let me think that.”
He smiled. “It was rather endearing, to be honest. The way you kept getting worried about me being in trouble.” He lifted his hand, wrapping a long strand of my hair around his finger and tugging it. “I kinda liked that.” His voice lowered and he shifted closer. “I liked the fact that you came back, even if you thought I was just a stock boy.”
“I couldn’t stay away, Noah. I think—” I swallowed, my voice sounding husky even to my ears “—I think you’re too special to be ‘just’ anything.”
He slipped his hand around my neck, his long fingers warm on my skin. “Dani,” he whispered. He ducked his head, his breath blowing over my face. He was so close, his hair was a brilliant kaleidoscope of color around his face, dancing in the breeze. He hesitated, then pressed closer, and my eyes drifted shut as I felt the heat of him against me.
His lips touched mine. Brushed gently, teasing me with his tenderness.
Once. Twice. Then again.
I whimpered, burying my hand into his soft hair, tugging him nearer. His grip tightened, his other hand reaching over, grabbing my hip and pulling me off the ground and onto his lap, his mouth becoming insistent. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me tight to his chest as his tongue slid along mine—commanding, possessive, exploring. He plunged his hand into my hair, fisting it tightly as he kissed me dizzy. His mouth was addictive. He tasted of strawberries and mint. I could feel the strength in his arms as he held me, but his hands were gentle, never too much or too tight.
His touch made me crazy. I couldn’t get close enough to him. I gripped the short hair at his nape, ran my hands along the breadth of his back, feeling the muscles flex and bunch under my touch. His taste was addictive, his embrace comforting and strong. I never wanted it to end.
Seconds later, I was underneath him, sinking into the hot earth. His chest pressed against me, the weight heavy and welcome. His kisses were relentless—hot and powerful. He reached down, hitching my leg around his waist, his growing erection hard against my hip. He moved, settling between my legs, pressing against my center. I tightened my legs, moaning his name.