“I’m impressed,” Reid says, coming to stand at my side. “You managed to get through the entire briefing without scowling.” I sigh and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s see how long you tolerate me today. I got a whole twenty-three minutes in yesterday.”
I snort, the comment catching me off guard as we walk toward the ATV and trailer, throwing our saws in the back. Reid doesn’t fight me for the driver’s seat and is unusually quiet as I drive to the designated field. It’s only when we’re stopped that he turns to look at me, his lips curling up the slightest bit.
I hate that he toned his smile down for my sake, the need to see it stretched brilliantly across his handsome face settling low in my groin. It’s completely unhelpful especially when Reid stops and stares at the trees before pulling a tablet from inside his jacket and climbing out of the ATV.
He’s quiet for a minute, walking the rows and placing little red tags on the ones that we’re apparently cutting before circling back.
“You keep track of that?” I ask and he blushes as he worries his bottom lip.
“It’s something I created to monitor growth and sustainability so we can make sure we’re rotating the right fields and can focus on deficiencies if the trees aren’t maturing like they should.”
“That’s…impressive,” I say slowly as what he says sinks in. It takes a ton of work and foresight to be able to look at all that data and put it into something tangible. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to go about it, let alone update it.
Because I’ve been a jackass, Reid takes my comment and ensuing silence to mean I’m making fun of him when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Let’s just start, yeah?” he says, clearing his throat and putting the tablet back in his jacket. “I’ve marked the best ones to start with.”
“Reid.”
He waves a hand. “It’s fine. I forget no one but me cares about spreadsheets and algorithms—they just want the bottom line.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Red—cut.”
“I think it’s impressive what you’ve done.”
Turning his arm over, he pretends to look at his covered watch. “Look at that. I didn’t beat my record.” His chuckle and attempt at levity is dismal at best.
I don’t like it, but I let it go.
For now.
Instead, I watch as he moves a couple of rows over and starts sawing with an ease that says he’s done this enough to have the movement ingrained. He’s almost elegant as he works, his lean frame belying the strength hidden behind his nerdy appearance.
“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he says, startling me out of my trance.
“I might just do that.”
The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, but it’s worth it because Reid’s jaw is on the ground in pure and utter shock.
I’m pretty shocked too but I don’t regret it. I’ve deprived myself of such basic human interaction—companionship—for too long. I’m exhausted, and anyway, dwelling on it won’t help anything.
Instead of commenting, I whistle as I walk farther into the trees, making sure Reid has his own view as I squat down and pull the saw across a tree trunk.
“Well, can’t say I hate this turn of events,” Reid muses, and I’m only half sure he meant to say that out loud.
Stranger still is that I don’t hate it either.
Not one bit.
6
REID
Harlan and I work in a comfortable silence as we move through the trees. I’d been defensive about tracking them, but the more I replay the conversation and picture the way he looked, I can’t help but think I misjudged him.
My cousins like to razz me about my need for data and the techie side of the creativity pool, but it makes me happy—calms my nerves. It’s fluid and concrete, allowing for change in the variables but still providing tangible feedback that can drive the direction of the business.
“Harlan?”
“Yeah?” he says, standing to his full height and wiping the sleeve of his jacket over his forehead. He looks edible. Hot and sweaty with the scent of pine clinging to his skin along with some kind of manly soap that makes my mouth water every time I catch a whiff.
