Harvest of Love: Insta-Spark Collection

“I’m not… I don’t usually… In fact, I never…” I huffed at my stumbling words. “I don’t make a habit of sleeping with someone I barely know.” I laughed, feeling self-conscious. “I rarely sleep with someone I know well, either. I just don’t—”

He laid a finger against my lips, silencing me. “I don’t either, Dani. There’s something between us—something I can’t explain. Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re each other’s exception to the rule.” His smile was wide and wonderful. “I’m good with that.”

“Me too.”

“Then stop overthinking this. We are…what we are.”

“Which is?”

His mouth replaced his mug, the air we shared warm and pulsating on my lips. “We’re us. We’re together,” he whispered, then kissed me. “We’ll figure it out as we go, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I made us breakfast.”

“Feeding me again?”

“That’s part of my new job.”

I nuzzled his scruff, biting the skin gently. “What else does it entail?”

“Making sure you’re okay, kissing you as much as possible, and making love to you again every chance I get.”

“Lots of responsibilities.”

“I’m good at wearing many hats.”

“I’m getting that idea.”

Noah laughed, kissing the end of my nose. “Come on, Sprout. Breakfast awaits.”

Noah made the best stuffed French toast I’d ever eaten. It tasted even better due to how I ate it. We sat on the wide steps of his back deck, me on the step below sitting sideways, nestled against his strong thigh, his other leg balancing the plate that was piled high. We shared the food, him feeding me on occasion and pressing the mug to my mouth for sips of coffee as we ate, not speaking, just enjoying the sounds of nature all around us. He had brought a blanket, draping it around his shoulders and wrapping it and me against him. I never wanted to leave that warm cocoon of his arms. The very best part was when he would steal his fingers under my chin, tilting my face up to his, and drop syrupy-sweet kisses onto my mouth, dipping his tongue in and kissing me until we were both breathless. He tasted even better than the French toast.

“What do you usually do on Sundays?” I asked.

“Relax, read, laundry. See my parents. It’s the one day I take off during the busy summer season.”

“The restaurant is open six days a week?”

“No, we’re closed Sundays and Mondays. So is the store. But we make sure it’s stocked and ready for Tuesday. We do up the donation boxes. We keep the produce fresh, and the overstock is sent to food banks to use.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Nutritious food can really help a person. You need that energy. Knowing our produce helps feed someone is something I’m very proud of.” He took a bite of French toast, chewing slowly, and swallowed. “It’s frightening how much produce is wasted because it’s not perfect-looking or because the outside leaves are wilted. Soups, salads, casseroles still taste great made with vegetables that might have been tossed otherwise. And it’s important to give back.”

I stared up at him in wonder. “You are pretty amazing,” I murmured.

He smiled and kissed me. “Back at you, Sprout.”

I laughed at the new nickname, but I had to admit I liked it. I’d never had a nickname until now.

Together, we did the few dishes, working efficiently in his bright, spacious kitchen. We sat down on the sofa, sipping fresh mugs of hot coffee. I tried not to be too disappointed I wasn’t sharing his mug anymore. He smirked at me because he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“What time do you have to head back?” he asked quietly.

“Soon,” I replied, the regret in my voice plain, even to me. “The next while is going to be crazy, so I need to take care of things—laundry, shopping, picking up my dry cleaning—things like that.” I inhaled a deep lungful of air, trying to ignore the immediate stirrings of tension I could feel. “I have to try to figure out why my numbers aren’t working.”

Noah nodded, picking up my hand and playing with my fingers. “Have you asked your IT department?”

“What?”

“Maybe something is wrong with the program you’re trying to use.”

“I’ve used it before.”

“Glitches happen.” He shrugged. “It’s worth asking the question.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. I’ll send them an email today, so they can check it first thing tomorrow. Thanks for the suggestion.”

He smirked. “I haven’t always worked on the farm, Dani.”

“I’d like to hear about that, one day.”

He nodded. “One day.” He drained his mug, setting it down on the table. “Can I help?”

“With?”

He slid closer so he was tight to my side. He ran his fingers over my cheek, smiling, his eyes gentle. “Help take some of the load off. I can send you home with lots of groceries. I have a ton of frozen, easy-to-heat meals in my freezer—I make them from things in the restaurant and my mom keeps me supplied as well, so I don’t have to cook on my days off. You can take some of those, plus whatever you want from the store.”