Chapter 20

Nick had every intention of staying out of Trisha's way, to just observe, but once he stood back to watch her working in the orchard, he had to know more. And not just about the trees, but he held himself back on the personal questions. He'd inquire here or there about her tasks when something completely stupefied him, and she didn't appear bothered in the least to respond.

It was apparent she loved her orchard. But he hadn't a clue how much exertion actually went into running one until today. It was a hell of a lot more than simply picking apples.

Her men worked as a unit, side-by-side, and without deliberation. They climbed up and down on the lifts to prune the branches for a good batch of ripe fruit and to keep the plants healthy. At least that's what Trisha told him when he asked why it wasn't done in the fall like other trees.

She was up on one of those beloved branches now, inspecting something. He hadn't an inkling what, but he watched just the same. Couldn't take his eyes from her, truth be told. Maybe tomboys in flannels who played in the dirt weren't so bad after all.

She was a vision, too. That mass of chestnut hair was threatening to break free of the band she pulled it back with. Her face and arms were smeared with soil and sweat. Those skinny jeans were snug enough to make him drool and grow more than a little interested in peeling them off. Her loose flannel had him envisioning what might lay underneath.

It would be dusk soon, and he would have her all to himself. He hadn't a clue what he'd do then, but he was damn well looking forward to it.

He peered up again, shielding his eyes from the sun. "What are you looking for?"

Without bothering to glance down, she hollered over the noise of the chainsaws. "Powdery mildew and apple maggots."

He was sorry he asked. "Didn't you just check the soil for bugs or something?"

"We have to check the soil for maggots as well as the trees. We usually don't find them until later, if we do at all, but it's best to inspect early anyway."

"What's powder mildew?"

"Not powder, powdery mildew. It grows on the tree's leaves and branches. It'll ruin a season. Redfree apples are moderately resistant to mildew, apple scab, and rust, but we check anyway."

She was simple, direct, and to the point. For the first time since they'd met, she wasn't annoyed with him. He could get used to this. He liked the fire in her eyes, the spunk in her approach, and the fact she didn't take crap from anyone. But this pleasant side was nice, too. Not to mention her intellect was pretty hot. Yeah, her brain. Getting her to talk shop just became his favorite form of foreplay.

"Have you ever had maggots?"

Looking down from her branch, she beamed a smile at him. That grin could halt anything, including the breath in his lungs. Jesus. "Not in thirty years, and we're going to keep it that way."

He cleared his throat. "What's a Redfree apple?"

Wiping sweat from her brow with a forearm, she wrapped her legs tighter to the branch and scooted back. "Redfree are the apples we grow here. They're sweet enough for eating, but great for baking as well."

He scowered his brain for more to ask. "What's a Bunny Hop? Another insect I don't want to know about?"

Throwing her head back, she laughed-long and loud. His gut clenched at the sound and another part of his anatomy took interest.

Looking down at him again, she shook her head in what seemed like genuine fondness. "We celebrate holidays here on the orchard, getting the whole town together. The Bunny Hop is our Easter celebration. Chuck dresses up as the Easter Bunny and we do an egg hunt, among other things."

Huh. Didn't he feel like an idiot.

"Could you get Brad for me please?"

He did as she asked. Upon their return, Nick backed up to let her climb down the ladder Brad held secure. Nick liked that she took precautions. No one worked alone, he noticed.

Trisha glanced out over the rows of trees. "Brad, tell Eduardo to wrap it up."

Without a word, Brad nodded and headed to the north end of the orchard. Trisha folded her ladder and, devoid of a glance toward Nick, led the way to the shed, shoulders tense and gait fast.

So, they were back to silence again.

"I hope I wasn't in your way," he hesitated, wondering about the abrupt mood shift.

She didn't turn around. "You weren't."

Before he could ask why her backbone was up again, he figured it out himself. Mike Peltzer's truck was idling between the shed and the staff housing. Hell. And she marched right up to it before Nick could even wrap his mind around why the man would show.

Nick placed a hand on his holster and stood next to her. She could deal with the situation herself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't intervene if necessary. If she hadn't dropped the damn assault charge, Nick could have Mike eating dirt while he slapped cuffs on the prick.

"You son of a bitch!" Brad dismounted an ATV and rushed their way.

Ah, shit.

Nick stepped up, but Trisha threw herself between Brad and Mike. "Stop, Brad." She pushed against his chest. "I mean it. Stop it now!"

Without removing his hand from the weapon at his side, Nick groaned when every man on her spread began running over. This wasn't going to be pretty.

She looked at Mike and ordered, "Wait in the truck until I send them inside. They'll kill you." She looked back at her men. "Listen up, all of you." She didn't bother with antics, just stood on top of Mike's bumper and halted them dead. "I want all of your asses inside now. Take your showers and get to dinner. Nick and I will handle this. Andrew and Chuck, get the lifts. Brad and Eduardo, get the equipment. The rest of you, go now."

They did as she asked, grumbling. He couldn't blame the men for wanting a piece of the guy who'd left the fading bruise on her cheek, but they followed orders out of an obvious mutual respect and love for the woman.

Brad gripped her elbows and plunked her feet solidly from the bumper to the ground. "If I find one more mark on you, I'll not only kill him, but I'll never let you out of my sight again. We clear?"

Nick went from clenching his jaw to dropping it when the mighty Trisha Eaton bowed her head and sighed. "Fine. Just get everything locked up. I'll have a meeting at the main house at dinner."

She waited until they were all dispersed before turning to Nick. "You can take your hand off of that weapon now, Deputy."

He didn't.

Waving her hand in a weary motion, she gestured for Peltzer to crawl out of his pickup. "Mike, I would apologize for the guys' behavior, but you did this to yourself. How can I help you?"

He was clean-shaven and showered, Nick noted. His eyes were clear. Maybe her chat in his cell had done him some good. Mike crammed his hands into his pockets and bowed his head in what could be passed for shame.

"I'm starting rehab tomorrow in Madison."

Trisha glared at him with an unreadable expression for three full beats before responding. "Do you have the money for that?"

Mike nodded. "I have some saved up."

Trisha tilted her head and worried her brows, but the tension in her jaw went lax. "Come and find me when you get out of rehab. The men won't work with you here after what you've done, and you'll have to live with that. However, if you get cleaned up, I'll write a letter of recommendation."

Both Nick and Mike's eyes popped wide. "Thanks, Trish. I mean it. I didn't come here for anything like that, but thanks. I'm real sorry."

Trisha nodded slowly and took a deliberate step toward him. She cupped her hand under his chin, raising his face to hers. "I'm proud of you. Now, go get cleaned up and call me when you're out."

When Mike's truck was out of view down the driveway, Nick's mouth flew open. He wasn't clear if he intended to bawl her out, or kiss her senseless, but before he could do either she marched to the main house.