“You smell good… Is that one of yours?”
“It’s the lotion you helped me mix, remember? You picked the scent.”
It’s light coconut, peach, and rose, and it almost smells like a day at the beach—with fresh peaches on the side.
He cups my cheek and kisses me slowly, possessively. Our lips pull, and that familiar, delicious heat ignites beneath my skin.
We’re the only ones in the house, and I want to take his hand and slide it under my skirt… Only, I know if I do that, we’ll never make it to the festival, and I have to check in with Mindy’s mom.
“You kiss me, and I forget everything.” My hand is on his cheek and when our eyes meet, we smile.
“I’m just the opposite. I start getting ideas.” He gives me that bad-boy wink, and I start to laugh.
“Come on.” Tugging his hand under my arm, I lead us out the back. “I can’t wait to see if people buy my stuff. I can’t wait to show Sawyer my untapped market.”
His hand is around my waist, and he walks me to the old red Chevy. “I fully intend to tap your market.”
“Is that so?
“You know it.” The low rumble of his voice does crazy things to my insides.
“Let’s check on the actual market then I’ll let you in the secret market a little later.”
“Secret market.” He grins and kisses me again. “I’m intrigued.”
Shaking my head, I climb into the truck and scoot all the way across so I’m right beside him. I realize just how serious I am about this store when his hand rests between my knees and I don’t even slide it higher.
The Bible says there’s a time and a place for everything, and it’s time to see if I’m going to make a success of this organic products business.
The peach-eating contest is well underway when we pull up in front of the town civic center and city hall. Tents line the perimeter, and a big funnel cake booth greets us at the entrance.
Taron pays the ten dollars to grant us entrance, and we head straight for Mrs. Jenny’s booth. Mindy’s mom is shorter than me, and about forty pounds heavier. Her dark hair is cut close to her ears and hangs in sausage curls around her cheeks. Tonight, she’s wearing a purple dress with little flowers all over it.
“We’re almost sold out of those peach-scented candles.” Mrs. Jenny’s clear voice rises above the noise of people talking and the live band playing zydeco music at the end of the row.
“Sold out!” My voice goes loud, and my heart jumps to my throat. “It’s only the first night! I don’t think I have enough left over to go through Saturday.”
“That lotion you made is a big hit, too.” She hands me a green vinyl bank bag containing checks and cash. “People are saying they love the scent.”
Looking up at Taron, I press my elbow into his side. “That’s the one you did. The one I’m wearing tonight.”
But instead of being excited for me, his brow furrows. “You’re selling that one? That one’s just for you. It’s your signature scent.”
“Taron!” My voice goes louder. “I’m trying to launch a business here.”
“Yeah, but I only want that smell on you.”
“There’s more than three hundred million people in this country. I don’t think the few who buy my lotion are going to take away from you smelling me.”
“I’ll smell you.” He leans down and gives my neck a sharp inhale then a little bite, and I squeal a laugh. Happiness bubbles in my stomach. I’ve never felt so optimistic.
Mrs. Jenny’s left eyebrow rises, and she looks from me to Taron and back to me. “Noel Aveline, you haven’t introduced me to your beau.”
“Aveline.” Taron’s voice is low at my ear, sending goose bumps skating down my arms.
“Oh, Mrs. Jenny Ray, this is Taron Rhodes.” I hold out my hand from him to her. “He’s Sawyer’s friend… from the Marines.”
“Is that so?” She smiles and nods, and I feel embarrassed all of a sudden, like she knows what we did in the pantry.
“Nice to meet you Mrs. Ray.” Taron shakes her hand so politely.
“You’re in the Marines with Sawyer?” Her voice has that edge like it did when she caught Mindy and me sneaking out of Mindy’s bedroom window.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So you’re being deployed with him at the end of the week?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her dark eyes move to mine, and I feel that painful knot in my throat. A soft voice is in my head, We weren’t going to talk about this, remember… Only that was just something Taron and I unofficially decided between the two of us.
As if that would stop it from coming.
“It’s too bad we won’t get to know you better.”
Heat rises in my eyes, but I blink it away fast. Tonight is for holding hands and being in love and celebrating the fact I have a market for my store, not crying.
Taron doesn’t miss a beat. “Autumn’s bounty? How did you come up with the name?”
I focus on the white label with a peach outline of the sun over a tree. “I like the name Autumn. Mindy helped me with the design.”
“I love it.” He gives me a wink then turns to Mrs. Jenny. “I need a couple of those lip balms there.”
Mrs. Jenny picks up two tiny jars and holds them out. “These are selling like hotcakes, too. You’d better be careful, because they’ll walk away.”
My eyes widen. “People are stealing them?”
“Not on my watch. I’m just saying.” She waits as Taron passes her a twenty, and I try to decide if I’m pissed or flattered. “It’s also higher than people are used to spending on lip balm.”
“It’s priced for the market—” I’m about to defend myself when Taron catches my arm.
“I want to see the pie eating contest if we haven’t missed it.” His expression tells me not to argue.
“You okay, Mrs. Jenny? Do you need me to stay?”
Her eyes glide from me to Taron, and she softens. “No, honey. You go on and enjoy the festival. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
Stepping around the table, I give her a tight hug. “Thank you.”
My hand is back in Taron’s as we walk across the rows of tents, past the zydeco band at the end playing “Jolie Blonde.” I hesitate a moment. It’s my favorite zydeco song… But Taron gives me a tug, and we continue toward the pavilion, where picnic tables are arranged in a line and a group of ten kids to grownups sit in front of peach pies with bright red and white checked bibs tied around their necks.
We watch the first round, with me gagging and laughing. Then Taron spots the antique car show. He pulls me to a row of cars from old beaters to slick race cars. He’s especially interested in the glossy Model T. The owner, a man from Ferriday, is glad to tell him all about it. Watching them talk, I’m surprised to learn my man is a car geek.
My man… the words sprang into my mind unbidden.
Can I call him that? My heart says an emphatic yes, but we’ve never had the conversation… Am I his?
While they talk shop, I survey the fair grounds. Banners are all around celebrating the 70th anniversary of the festival. I catch sight of my brother standing with his arms crossed beside another, older man inside the Official Peach Grower’s tent. The way he talks, considering, thoughtful makes me miss my daddy.