Patricia Hagan - Sun-Kissed Baby

But most of all, it was just something she felt driven to do, because she hated to see another man walk away from his moral and financial obligations.

Though she had been up before dawn, it had been almost noon before she was finally ready to leave. It felt strange not having anyone to say goodbye to. The only friend she’d had was Alicia. She did, however, take time to call Mr. Burns and let him know she was planning on returning to work for him when the season opened again. She regretted having to say she’d had to drop out of school. She told him about Scotty, and he said he understood and commended her for taking him as her own. He assured her that her old job would be waiting in the fall, and he’d also find room for her in one of his migrant cottages. She did not tell him where she was going, and he politely did not ask. There were meetings from time to time for citrus growers in the state, and he knew them all. She didn’t want to chance him saying anything to Nick Starke about her. Or worse, mention how noble he thought she was to agree to raise her girlfriend’s baby. Carlee intended to control any information given out about Scotty and her.

She did not have to ask for directions to Starke Groves. It was advertised on billboards all along the interstate and even more so as she drove across a bridge and into Snow Hill.

Once she turned off the main highway, a winding road led the way between lines of orange trees as far as the eye could see. At the end was a lovely two-story white frame house that looked like something out of Gone With the Wind, except there were towering royal palms swaying in the breeze instead of sheltering oaks.

The road curved around as she followed signs pointing the way to the office and the grove operations. Reaching a large clearing among the orange trees, she passed long, open-sided, tin-roofed structures that housed the processing belts and packing area. A paved road led in another direction, and she realized she had taken the tourists’ way in.

The gift shop caught her eye. It had a garden in front, bordered by a quaint two-foot wall made of coquina rocks with seashells embedded in concrete on top. Overhead, flowering baskets hung from a wire ceiling. There were benches and fountains, and she made mental notes to take back to Mr. Burns about how he might redecorate his shop.

She parked under a shady palm and took Scotty inside with her. Her first priority should have been reporting to the office, but she couldn’t resist checking out the gift shop first.

It was larger and better-stocked than the one where she had worked but much of the merchandise was the same—orange marmalade, honey and candies, as well as bags of fruit that customers could take with them or have shipped anywhere in the world.

Scotty saw a stuffed teddy bar holding a tiny jar of orange honey, and he reached for it. “No, no, sweetie.” She kissed his chubby little hand. “Even if I could afford it, there’s nobody around here to sell it to us. Evidently they don’t open this place when it’s off-season.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. We’re closed.”

She whipped about to see a man standing in an open doorway to the side that she hadn’t noticed. Beyond was some kind of huge storage area. Starke Groves was quite an operation, all right.

But as she focused on the man who’d spoken, everything else faded away.

He was tall and looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His eyes were a deep greenish blue, like the ocean above its darkest depths, and they seemed to glimmer with a focused strength. His sandy-blond hair was cropped close, the bill of his cap playfully reversed. And as he appraised her, the play of a smile on his lips revealed the dimples in his cheeks.

He was wearing white shorts, and his legs were long and muscular. A tank top revealed bare arms and shoulders that showed he either worked out or did a lot of hard work. His dark tan glistened with perspiration, and as he turned to close the storage-room door, she couldn’t help noticing he had a nice behind.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But the door was unlocked, and—”

“I know. I came in to do some inventory and forgot to lock it.” He cocked his head to one side, and the smile widened, deepening the dimples she could not help finding so delightful. “Is there something I can help you with? We don’t keep the shop open this time of year, but if you want some oranges, I can fix you up with some Valencias that were just picked this morning.” He patted Scotty’s downy head. “He’s cute. How old is he?”

“Almost fourteen months. His name is Scotty.”

“He’s probably walking and getting into everything.”

“No, he’s crawling and into everything. He hasn’t started walking yet. I think it’s because he’s so chubby. He tries to stand on his fat little legs and falls down.”

“Give him time. He looks like he’s going to be a strong little fellow.” He kept looking at Scotty as he asked, “Did you want to buy some of the Valencias?”

“No, thank you. Actually I’m here to see about—” Just then Scotty’s eye caught the bear again, and he strained to get closer. She pulled him back, and he started crying.

The man laughed. “He really wants that bear.”

“Well, he can’t have it. He’d get that honey all over him.”

“Not if you don’t open it.” He took the bear from the shelf beneath the cash register where it had been displayed, obviously to entice the small fry as Mom and Dad paid for their other purchases. He untied the gold cord that held the little jar of honey in place and set it on the counter, then handed the bear to Scotty.

Scotty gave a delightful squeal, but it was nothing compared to his scream of protest when Carlee promptly took it away from him. “I’m sorry, but he can’t have it.” She had already seen the price tag and could not afford to spend twenty dollars on a toy no matter how badly he wanted it.

Scotty cried all the more loudly, kicking his legs and waving his arms in the throes of a temper tantrum. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again, embarrassed. “It’s time for his nap and he’s cranky.”

“But it’s all right. He can have it as a gift.”

She shook her head, not about to accept something from a stranger. “Thank you, but no.” She saw the clipboard he’d been carrying and brightened. “You must be Mr. Thurston. I talked to a woman in the office—Miss Streeter—and she said you all were hiring pickers, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Well, we are, but—”

“I’ve had lots of experience working in groves,” she interrupted, shifting Scotty, who had calmed down, so she could hold out her hand to shake the man’s hand and introduce herself. “Mostly I worked in the gift shop, but I’d rather be a picker, because I can make more money.

“And she also said there were nice facilities for the workers,” she rushed on, excited because he seemed so nice, but then so did everything else about Starke Groves so far.

“That’s true. We have one-and two-bedroom cottages down by the lake, and the child-care center is air-conditioned, but—”

Again, in her enthusiasm, she cut him off. “Well, if you will point me to the office, I’ll fill out my application, and as soon as I get Scotty settled in at the day care, I’ll be ready to go to work. Just point me to where they’re picking.”

His gaze flicked over her but settled on Scotty once more, who continued to fret a little over the bear. He held out his arms for him and asked, “May I?”

Before Carlee could respond, Scotty lunged for the stranger as though aware he wanted to give him the bear.

“Oh, he’s a big fellow. A fine little boy.” He hugged him, then said, “I’m afraid we’re through picking for the day, but you can start first thing tomorrow. We pay twelve dollars an hour, more if you’re real fast.”