The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (good book club books .txt) 📕

scared the hell out of me for fifty different reasons, but it was more an option now than it had ever been. I could plant a garden, get an entry-level job canvassing for a candidate or the party, live with Linden. Those were real things and I could have them.

I took another step backward—and nearly fell on my ass when my shoes connected with soft, slippery, uneven earth. Once I righted myself, I blinked down at the ground, seeing but not understanding the apples beneath my feet. With a glance around, I spotted many more decaying apples nearby.

"Why the hell are there apples all over the yard?" I asked out loud.

The familiar old black cat leapt from one of the raised beds and picked his way through the apples before darting off into the woods.

"You're so helpful," I called after him.

I made my way back toward the house and grabbed the supplies I'd abandoned before crossing into Linden's place. He was catching up on paperwork this afternoon and I knew he'd welcome a break from that to investigate my apple problem.

When I entered from the deck, I had the pleasure of watching as the scowl he'd aimed at the documents in front of him melted into a familiar smile. I couldn't explain why that quick moment of blown-open honesty warmed me more than any words or kisses ever could but I felt that heat in my cheeks, my hands, the back of my neck.

"That didn't take long," he said, holding a hand out to me.

I knew he intended to draw me into his lap but I didn't have time for that. "There are apples. All over the backyard. And they're, like, rotting."

He bobbed his head as he beckoned me closer, unsatisfied with my position on the opposite side of the table. "From the trees, I'd imagine."

"Which trees?"

"The apple trees."

I peered at him. "Where are there apple trees nearby?"

Linden dropped his outstretched hand as he laughed. "They're in your yard, Peach."

"Where?"

"In the back," he said, pushing to his feet. "Four, maybe five of them? They're fairly young. Less than ten years old, I think." He rounded the table and hooked his fingers inside the waistband of my leggings, yanking me up against him. "Sometimes you are too far away from me."

"What do I do about the apples?"

"Not letting that go, are you?"

"I just discovered I have an orchard, Linden. I can't let that go. What do I do about all the apples? Isn't it a problem to leave them there?"

He kissed the top of my head and patted my backside. "Sit down. The apples can wait a minute."

He pulled out a chair and shoved me into it as sweetly as anyone could. I grinned in spite of myself. I didn't mind a good shove when it was Linden doing the shoving. I wouldn't mind him pushing and pulling me around for the next six months. Or longer.

I heard him rustling in the cabinets and then the fridge as I said, "How is it that I didn't notice I had apple trees until now?"

"I don't know what to tell you other than you are extremely gifted with many complex things, and less gifted with a few basic things."

"Are you trying to say I'm some kind of savant who can't change a light bulb?"

"I'm saying you're some kind of savant who can't exit a rotary."

"I can, it just takes me a few tries."

"I know, babe. I know. It's what makes you special—and completely unreliable with the most random things." I heard him shaking the milk carton over my shoulder. "Wait a second. You didn't have any coffee this morning."

"Hmm?"

"The coffee. You were in the shower when I filled up before leaving for my appointment in Weymouth. You didn't drink any today."

I glanced up at him. "Oh. Yeah. I must've forgotten. I got distracted with emails."

Linden set the milk down as he leveled me with a stern stare. "You haven't touched the clementine marmalade all week."

I shrugged. "Haven't been in the mood."

"Is that it? Really, Jasper? You're forgetting to pour yourself a cup of coffee in the morning, not interested in the last bit of marmalade?"

I shot him the same disinterested look I used on anyone who skated too close to the truth for my comfort. "I can't imagine why any of this is an issue."

Linden growled something I couldn't make out and returned to the task of fixing his coffee. It seemed like we were finished with the topic of me leaving the last of the cold brew and Diana's homemade marmalade for him, and that was a relief. The only thing worse than worrying about taking too much was having a discussion based on someone noticing I worried about taking too much. Hell, that was almost as bad as someone noticing and talking about my constant need to arrive early.

Linden set a mug down in front of me, another one beside the stack of papers he'd been working on when I came in. I wasn't sure when he'd picked up more of the locally roasted, small batch, slow-steeped coffee he preferred, seeing as there'd been only one serving left earlier today.

He ran a hand over my shoulders before circling the table and dropping into his seat. "Let's get a few things straight, Jasper."

I eyed him, a brow arched up in an automatic show of defiance. I couldn't help it. Most of the time, I didn't even notice I did it. But I didn't take well to anyone else doing the straightening. I was the sheriff in these parts.

"There will be no more of you leaving the last few spoonfuls of marmalade, the last cup of coffee, none of it. You don't think I see you insisting on showering after me?"

"On the rare occasions in which you permit me to shower independently? That evidence seems insufficient to me."

He rested his forearms on the table, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and leaned in. "I don't usually go for it when you use