Page 49 of Novel Problems
“Thanks!” I grinned at her. Our eyes connected and my heart fluttered.
“I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you need a lift to fruit picking tomorrow? I could pick you up around three if that works for you?” George asked.
“That would be amazing if it’s not too much trouble,” I said.The car trip could be the perfect opportunity to talk to George about us.
Walking home down the streets lined with leafy green trees, I decided to stop worrying about what I’d say to George tomorrow and focus my energy on planning what I’d write when I got home. Maybe I should try to tackle the pesky sex scene I’d skipped over the other day. To avoid losing momentum, I’d just written “[insert hot sex scene here]” and kept going, in the hope inspiration would strikeat a later date. I didn’t have high hopes this would occur. Sex scenes were always a challenge for me, and the ones I’d written previously had been criticized by some for being wooden and lacking in chemistry.
Since today seemed to be all about deciding to tackle difficult things head on, I resolved to give the sex scene writing another red hot go this afternoon.
I unlatched my front gate and strode with purpose toward the front door of my cottage.
Today, I’ll write a steamy sex scene, and tomorrow, I’ll put my heart on the line with George.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HANNAH
I nervously checked my watch. George should be here any minute. I took a few deep breaths. Sex scene writing yesterday had not been successful. I’d ended up abandoning it after thirty minutes of staring blankly at the screen and instead focused on confronting evil brothers and dragons. Hopefully today’s discussion with George would go better.
I peered out the window to check for any sign of George’s car. Nothing.
Butterflies swarmed in my abdomen. Restless, I got out of the chair and paced up and down my small study until I heard a car pull up outside my house.Here goes.
I grabbed my bag and walked out the front door. My heart bounced as I confirmed that it was, indeed, George in her beat-up blue Ford Fiesta out on the road, and then it sank as I made out another figure sitting next to her. Olivia.Damnit.
George turned to me as I jumped into the backseat. “Hey,” she said, voice low, the dimple showing on her rightcheek. A thrill ran down my spine. She grinned and held up a bottle of sunscreen. “Do you need any of this?”
An image of George massaging sunscreen over my body suddenly appeared without warning in my mind, leaving me short of breath. I collected myself and shook my head.
“No thanks. I learned my lesson after our kayaking adventure and am well and truly smothered in sunscreen.”
As much as I wanted George’s hands all over my body, I had to tell her how I felt first in order for there to be any chance of that happening. Unfortunately, with Olivia in the car, now was not the moment.
The car trip went quickly, and before long, George was pulling into Red Tractor Farm, marked by a large red sign next to the main road out of town.
We met Jenny, Blake, and Amanda at the farmhouse where we picked up green buckets and then followed a wooden arrow sign withFruit Pickingwritten on it down a dirt path.
“This place is great!” I said, taking in the rustic farmhouse with a shining red tractor parked nearby, green fields, and scarecrows. I inhaled the sweet scent of flowers and grass. As we walked, we passed other wooden signs pointing in the direction of thePetting Zoo, Christmas Trees, Hayride, Flower Farm, Corn Maze,andPumpkin Patch. “It seems like they do everything here!”
“We should definitely come back in the fall,” Jenny said. “They go all out on the fall festivities. There’s a hayride, pumpkin patch, apple cannon and amazing apple fritters.” She shot Blake a beaming smile which made me think there was a story there. I made a note to ask George later about it.
“They’re also my main supplier of flowersfor my shop,” Olivia chimed in. “And an absolute pleasure to work with. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
“It seems like everyone in Sapphire Springs is a pleasure to work with,” I said, smiling, and then felt my cheeks warm as I wondered how George would interpret the comment.
The blue sky was dotted with wisps of clouds, and there was a gentle breeze. My chest expanded as we strolled along the dirt lane, chatting and laughing. I’d always dreamed of having a group of friends like this. George was walking in front of me and I couldn’t help admiring her butt in her charcoal shorts and the way her white t-shirt clung to her broad shoulders. The memory of my hands pressing against her butt cheeks while she was stuck in the shed window came rushing back.Damn.If our talk goes well, maybe I’ll be able to run my hands over them again. I bit my lip.Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
A few minutes later, the orchard, full of rows of leafy green apple and cherry trees, came into sight. “The strawberries are over there,” Olivia said, pointing to a field to the south. “But I’m thinking we should start with the cherries, as they’ll probably last better than the strawberries once they’re picked.”
The apples weren’t ripe yet, but the cherries, in gleaming dark-red clusters against the vibrant green leaves, were ready for picking. My stomach rumbled. I loved cherries.
“Do you know what the etiquette is about sampling a few as we pick?” I whispered to George.
“It’s one hundred percent illegal. But don’t worry, I won’t call the cops,” George replied with a wink.
“Should we work in pairs?” Amanda asked. “It looks like most of the fruit is higher up in the tree, so it might beeasiest if one person goes up the tree and the other person stays on the ground to collect the cherries and help support the ladder if need be.” She eyed the rustic wooden ladders—some leaning against the trees and others lying on the ground under the trees—with trepidation. They did look a little rickety.
“I’m surprised we weren’t required to sign another waiver, relinquishing all our rights in the event of fruit-picking-related injuries,” I murmured to George, who chuckled.
