Summer Love in the Country (Summer Instalove)

He went to a panel on the wall, and suddenly quiet music seemed to come from all

directions. It was smoky, soulful blues, which was strangely perfect for this hour of the day.

Dean worked in the row beside mine for about ten minutes keeping a close eye on me.

Then he went out to grab our coffee bottles. “Be careful, it’s hotter than you expect,” he

said as he handed one to me.

It was oddly endearing how closely he watched over me. The first sip almost seared my tongue, but the taste was pure bliss. “This is amazing,” I said.

“It’s also amazingly strong,” he chuckled, “So pace yourself unless you want to be running

around here like a hummingbird on crack.”

He was so easy to laugh with. I still couldn’t believe that I was this comfortable with a

strange man. Setting the bottle at my feet, I pulled my tiny notebook and mini pen from my

pocket, scribbling down a few notes. Dean watched me with a casual smirk.

“I have to jot down ideas the second they happen,” I explained, “Or else–”

He held up his hand. “You artsy folks all have your different processes. I understand.”

After another sip of coffee, he pulled out more baskets, setting them at regular intervals

down the long row. The greenhouse was so huge that I could barely focus on the far end.

“Being careful is more important than being fast,” he called out. “But there is a lot of work

this week, so let’s try to keep moving. I’ll be back in a while to check on you.”

Taking another huge swig of coffee, I set it aside and got down to business. Although I

didn’t have a lot of job experience, I worked as a waitress long enough that I ended up

doing prep work in several different kitchens.

There was something very comforting in putting my head down and simply working like heck

at a repetitive task for a good amount of time. It was meditative. After I spent several more

minutes working on my accuracy, I started increasing my speed. Basket after basket filled

beside me, and I just kept going, my head nodding slightly to the music.

“Holy shit,” I heard, snapping my head up to see Dean staring at me. I hadn’t even heard

him approach. “City girl, you are a machine out here,” he laughed.

Looking behind me in a daze, I realized that I’d filled five huge baskets. “Is that good?” I

asked, standing up slowly.

Something kinked in my neck, and I felt everything lock up slightly on my left side. Crap. I

had wanted to impress Dean by seeming strong and capable. I didn’t want him to think of