"Well," she started, "I'll admit I didn't know what to say when Ranger Brooks used it the first time. I thought he was taking the piss out of me honestly. It was obvious he didn't approve of me being here. Anyway, I wasn’t terribly impressed at first. But after I met you?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "It absolutely fits."
His lips quirked. "That's good to know."
A rush of heat moved into her cheeks. It was annoying how easily this man could make her blush. "Are we close yet?" she asked, desperate to change the subject. "I could really use a loo right about now."
John chuckled and shook his head. "You won't find one of those around here." He pointed at the tree to his left, a tall, broad pine with thick boughs that kept the area beneath clear from the worst of the ice and snowfall. "But that spot is as good as any." The way he turned around, giving her privacy, made her smile. The man was a gentleman to the core despite his tough guy exterior.
She finished and yanked up her pants as quickly as possible. The cold air on sensitive parts was worse than having to drop her bottoms. "Okay, I'm ready." She ran her hand down John's backand smiled when he swiveled. His sapphire eyes twinkled as he traced a finger down the side of her face and notched a lock of hair behind her ear.
Frankie's breath caught in her chest. She practically melted into his touch. "Is it much further?"
"Just over the hill," he murmured, the finger under her chin lifting her for his kiss. His lips nibbled at hers for a brief second before he pivoted and started back up the trail.
“Woah,” she exclaimed softly when they reached the peak, catching her breath. Sure enough, just as her grandmother had described in her journal, the maple lines did indeed wind through the trees like a spider web, threading their way to the bottom of the hill.
"They start up there." John pointed to the top of an adjacent hill. "And slope down there where we gather the sap. We let gravity do most of the work," he added, gesturing to a five-gallon container.
"And that's all you get from this? A five-gallon bucket?"
"No." He sputtered a laugh. "It’s just there to catch anything that might come down right now. Sap season runs from February to April and we'll have many buckets throughout the area. My guess is we'll probably see fifty gallons of syrup again this year."
"Wow!" She scanned the area, noticing which trees were already in the network. "This is amazing, John. And the trees don't suffer, yeah?"
"They don't suffer," he assured her. "I rotate the trees I tap." He pointed to his left. "We'll start over there."
Three hours later, Frankie's shoulders ached abominably. She thought her arms might fall off, and the worst she had done was holding the tubing in place while John completed the more back-breaking work. He finished the tap he was working on and wiped his brow. "Damn, I'm hungry. You ready to eat?"
"Yes, please. I'm quite ravenous at this point."
"I was gonna go with ravishing," he teased, a glint in his eye. "But, yeah, I'm ready for lunch, too."
Frankie squinted up at him. "Are all Americans this bad at pick up lines, or is it just you?"
John scoffed, holding a hand to his chest. "You wound me." He grabbed his oversized backpack and pulled out a small blanket, spreading it out over a dry patch of ground. Then he produced several food containers along with two plates and silverware.
"Impressive. You're like Mary Poppins with that bag," she joked.
He leered up at her, waggling his brows. "Not just the bag, baby."
"Oh, my god!" She waved her hands, chuckling. "Make it stop."
"Come on." John patted the blanket. "Have a seat. I brought some fun Wisconsin treats for you. I even have beer."
"I was hoping to sample some American beer," she commented, watching as he opened each container.
"This isn't just American beer, baby. This isWisconsinbeer. It’s an art here and we make the best you'll ever find." He showed her the oversized can of beer and poured two cups.
Frankie took a sip, her brows jumping. The taste was refreshing and bright. She took a long pull of beer, then sighed with delight. "Mmmmmm! It's delicious."
John smiled at her. "I do love a woman who appreciates beer. There's nothing better."
"Of course there is." She raised her nose in the air. "Nothing beats a lovely glass of Italian wine."
“I’m not about to knock Italians and their wine," he conceded. "They’ve certainly been doing it for a long time. But Wisconsin beer is in a class of its own. In fact, most of what we produce here is great.”
She huffed a light laugh. “That would be obscene vanity from anyone else. But coming from you, I would have to agree.”
He shook his head, a wide smile on his face. "A woman after my own heart." He took a long draught from his cup and sighed.
