Dirty: The Complete Series (Secret Baby Romance Love Story) (5 page)

I
pulled up to the house and started gathering up the groceries to bring into the
house. Tuck, Cade, and Dad had moved onto another portion of the field, closer
to the house, and I called out to them. “Someone want to give me a hand real
quick? It’d go a lot faster and I’d be able to get dinner on the table sooner.”

Dad
sent Tuck and Cade to help me move the groceries into the house. “It’s going to
be a hot summer, I can already tell,” Tuck said as he lugged bags through the
door.

“It’s
not even that hot out, you big baby,” I told him, glancing as briefly as I
could at Cade; it wasn’t that hot, but it was unquestionable that both my
brother and the new farmhand were sweating.

In
only two trips, we’d gotten everything into the house, and Dad called out for
the guys to start heading back. “I’m going to grab something to drink first,”
Tuck said. “You want anything, Cade? I’m sure my sister would be delighted to
make you some lemonade.” I glared at him.

“You
run your mouth too much, Tuck,” I said. I spotted the hose where I’d left it
earlier in the day after watering the ground for the vegetable garden.

“Cade
doesn’t mind that you’ve got the hots for him, I’m sure,” Tuck told me. I
reached down and grabbed the hose.

“Oh,
sweet brother,” I said mockingly. “Did you say you were thirsty?”

“You
wouldn’t,” Tuck said sharply. I twisted the nozzle and sprayed him as quickly
as I could from head to toe, drenching him.

“Pretty
clearly, I would,” I said, smiling. I looked at Cade. “You thirsty, too?”

“No,”
Cade said, spreading his heads wide in front of him and grinning. “But I
appreciate the offer.”

Chapter
Six

Cade

“Let’s
call it a day, boys,” Bob Nelson said as the sun began to sink towards the
horizon. “It’s going to be too dark in a little while to see anything, anyway.”

I
gathered up the tools I’d been using and mopped the sweat off of my forehead.
Before too much longer, I was going to definitely need a hat—I might even need
to cut my hair if the spring was any indication of the heat we’d have in the
coming summer. I would think about that later.

We
walked towards the house from the furthest field—the new one—and I was glad
that the Nelsons were planning on providing dinner for me; there was no way I
would go home and cook, tired as I was after the long day of work. Instead, I
would have ended up picking up some fast food, taking a shower, and probably
going to bed right after a beer. At least a home-cooked meal would be better
for me.

“You’ll
want to wash up,” Mrs. Nelson said as we approached the house. “Cade, you can
use the guest bathroom, off the living room just over there.”

I
smiled and nodded my acceptance of the offer—I was sweaty and dirty, and while
nothing short of a long shower would get me truly clean, I was grateful at
least to have the chance to be presentable. I didn’t see Autumn as I went into
the living room, but Addie was in her playpen, gurgling at one of her toys.

“Hey,
little girl,” I said when she turned her big, blue eyes up at me. “How’s your
toy?” She babbled something, and I nodded solemnly. “That is frustrating, for
sure.” I gave the baby a smile and went on my way to the bathroom that Mrs.
Nelson had indicated.

I
definitely wanted to do justice to the privilege of having dinner with the
family, so I took my comb out of my pocket and tried to do what I could to get
my hair in order—which ultimately ended up amounting to pulling it back with
one of those elastic hair ties. I scrubbed my hands and tried to clean under my
nails, and attacked my face next.

I
was just about finished cleaning myself up when I heard Tuck and Bob
talking—they must have been in the living room. “You know, now that we’ve got
that field cleared out, and next week it’ll be ready for planting, I’m not even
sure you necessarily need someone all season,” Tuck was saying.

“I
hired him for the whole season, so I’m not about to kick him off the payroll
unless I have to,” Bob told his son. I pressed my lips together, taking longer
than I should to wash my face.

“He’s
a good worker, don’t get me wrong,” Tuck said quickly. “I’m just saying, we
need to be mindful about how much we eat into the profits we’re getting from
the new field.”

“This
is a trial thing,” Bob pointed out. “We have a cushion to take care of business
around here. If it turns out that the extra field isn’t earning us enough money
to justify having someone work for us, then I’ll make a change next year. It’s
important not to get greedy, son.”

I
dried off my face and hands and wondered if I should come out of the bathroom
already—staying in there too long would make it obvious I was listening to the
conversation, but if I walked out and they were still talking about me, it
would make things awkward.

Fortunately,
Bob Nelson chose that moment to change the subject. “Why don’t you go see if
your sister needs a hand setting the table? I’m gonna go wash up.” I heard
Bob’s steps, heavy in his boots, moving towards the stairs and decided that it
was more than time to emerge from the bathroom.

Mrs.
Nelson was coming in from outside, a few late-day chicken eggs from the
henhouse in her hands. She smiled at me, gesturing for me to precede her into
the kitchen. “Work never seems to end around here,” she told me. I grinned.

“That
certainly looks to be the case,” I agreed. “When you’re not doing one thing,
it’s the other.”

“Best
thing I can say for it is I enjoy my food better and sleep better at night than
I believe I would if I worked in town,” Mrs. Nelson said. “I do have to admit I
have to remind myself of that fact from time to time.”

She
turned off into the kitchen proper, and I spotted Autumn. She’d pulled her hair
back into a bun and was just taking off an apron as she walked towards the
kitchen table. I had to admit to myself that there was a good reason for Bob
Nelson’s warning against falling in love with his daughter: Autumn was a
beautiful woman. Even with a smudge of flour on her right cheek, flushed from
standing over a stove, she was almost too pretty.

Unless she picked an ugly man to have
her baby with, Adelyn is going to give her mom more than a little stress when
she comes of age,
I thought; the baby in the living room
was a pretty one—but I’d seen more than one cute baby that became an
awkward-looking teenager thanks to some unfortunate gene combinations.

“I
know it’s not your mom’s fried chicken,” Autumn told me, gesturing to the
table, “but I think it will definitely satisfy any fried chicken craving.”

I
turned my attention onto the spread she’d laid out and my eyes widened: she’d
managed to pull together a huge meal, with steaming, crisp chunks of fried
chicken, a big bowl of green beans with bacon and chopped nuts, a mountain of
mashed potatoes and a gravy boat that earned the name, full of rich, pale
gravy. I saw a jar of corn relish and some home-canned beets off to the side,
and a breadbasket with just a peek of fresh-baked biscuits, as well. A pitcher
of lemonade—complete with the rinds, the way that Autumn had told me she made
it—completed the spread.

“That
looks amazing,” I said, breathing the smell of it in deep.

“Thank
you. Why don’t you take a seat? Dad should be down in a minute and we can get
down to eating.”

“What
about Addie?” Autumn opened the door to a little alcove adjoining the table and
started to pull out a high chair.

“I’ll
grab her,” Mrs. Nelson said.

Tuck
finished putting out the napkins and silverware as Bob Nelson emerged from the
upstairs part of the house, and I waited just a moment to see where everyone
would be sitting before choosing the seat opposite Autumn. Addie had her high
chair next to her mother, and after a brief grace led by Bob, everyone started
to dig in.

I
helped myself to food, trying not to take so much that I looked like a greedy
pig, but enough to show I appreciated the invitation to partake. Tuck and Bob
started talking about business, while Autumn told a story about a funny
incident with Adelyn earlier in the day.

Since
I didn’t have a whole lot to contribute to the conversation, I listened and
began digging into my food. The mashed potatoes were perfect: the consistency
of ice cream, almost—only hot, of course—and creamy-rich with butter. The green
beans had just enough texture, the biscuit I’d taken was fluffy, the relish
crisp and refreshing. Finally, I bit into the chicken. It was absolutely
heavenly: juicy, tender meat and crunchy, salty skin, just hot enough without
burning my mouth.

“Well?
Is it good enough for your high standards?” I grinned at Autumn as I finished
my first bite of her chicken; she must have been paying more attention to me
than I’d thought.

“It
is not the same as my mom’s,” I told her, “but it is every bit as good as
hers.” Autumn grinned, and I saw the color rising in her cheeks, the pleased
look in her bright eyes as she reacted to the compliment. I couldn’t help but
enjoy the way it felt to see her so happy—so flattered at something I said.

“You’ll
want to save room,” Autumn told me once she’d gotten back some of her
composure. “There’s a pound cake with strawberry glaze for dessert.”

“Besides,
there’ll be plenty to send you home with some leftovers,” Mrs. Nelson told me,
echoing her daughter’s smile.

I
ate until I was just full, taking part in the conversation around the table
whenever I could, laughing at Addie’s antics as the almost-toddler tried to get
the hang of eating actual food. Autumn reported that Addie was pretty deft with
things like bread and meat, but was still not quite neat when it came to softer
things like mashed potatoes—which I could see as the baby smeared some across
her face in the attempt to get it in her mouth while distracted.

Tuck
and Bob talked about what we’d be doing the next week, and I paid attention;
Bob at least seemed to be happy with how I was working out, even if Tuck had
his doubts about me. I had to wonder what the cause of that was, but it wasn’t
my place to ask.

I
helped clear the table, though Mrs. Nelson wouldn’t hear of me having any part
of doing the dishes. By the end of the evening, I climbed up into my truck with
a plate of food—a real plate, which I promised to bring back on Monday, washed
and dried—and a chunk of the delicious pound cake that Autumn had made for
dessert. I drove into town from the farm, tired down to my bones and more than
ready for the beer, shower, and bed that I’d promised myself.

I
put the plate in the fridge, and the pound cake on the counter, stripped off my
sweat-stiff clothes, and got in the shower to scrub off the rest of the day’s
dirt and grime from my body. I’d have Saturday and Sunday to myself—it wasn’t
the busiest part of the growing season yet—and I thought I might be able to
find some time to go fishing, maybe meet up with some friends.

After
the cheerful warmth of the Nelsons’ house, I had to admit that my little place
was a little bit lonely. Once I was clean, I sat down in front of the TV with a
beer and turned on something I hoped would clear out the quiet—but it wasn’t
the same as having actual people in the house with me. I finished off my beer
and while I was still tired, I knew it would probably take a while to get to
sleep.

At least you have plenty of work to
keep you occupied,
I thought as I unmade my bed to get
between the sheets. I’d been alone for a while—but it was the first time in
months I’d actually felt lonely. I pushed the thought of the Nelson family and
their obvious affection for each other out of my mind and focused on how much
money I’d be able to make. It’d cover my expenses for a good long while; that
was enough for me.

Chapter
Seven

Autumn

I
looked out through the window as I finished off my morning coffee; Addie had
kept me up late the night before—I was pretty sure she was teething again, but
I hadn’t seen any definitive signs.

It
had been a couple of weeks since Cade had started working for my dad, and I’d
gotten used to the sight of him around the farm as the planting season rushed
along, so the first thing I noticed was that Dad and Tuck were by themselves
out in the field.
Maybe he’s just on a
far end of the property,
I thought to myself, rinsing out my coffee cup and
putting it aside to refill later.

Back
before I’d been pregnant with my daughter, I had had a huge caffeine habit—and
a tolerance to go with it. After more than a year of avoiding caffeine, though,
I got jittery if I had more than maybe three cups in the course of a day.

I
went about my morning chores: watering the kitchen garden, checking on the
laundry, helping Mom with some of the cleaning. She had lunch well underway by
the time I’d gotten up, and I knew from experience it was best to stay out of
her hair unless she asked for help. I played with Addie, carrying her on my
back while I swept the front porch and the living room, letting her crawl
across the floor while I dusted. She was still grouchy, so I sat down with her
about an hour before lunch to let her nurse for a while, hoping it would
comfort her.