Kristin Hardy - Vermont Valentine

“Let’s not get ahead of things,” she said calmly. “We don’t even know what we’re dealing with, yet. In Michigan, they called me in and I didn’t find a sign of infestation.”

“And in New York, you cut down half the state,” the craggy-faced man retorted.

For an instant, Jacob thought, she looked like she didn’t know whether to sigh or laugh. Instead, she merely shook her head. “We took out a total of twelve hundred trees, spread across three different sugarbushes and a town common. I don’t take felling trees lightly.” She looked around the room. “But I’ve seen what the maple borer can do and I’m ready to do everything in my power to stop it. If there’s infestation here, all of your trees are at risk. All of them. I hope you’ll cooperate with me to stop it.”

“You’re not here for your health. You’re here because you know there’s a problem,” the redhead accused.

She hesitated and locked eyes with Jacob. She’d been crouched at the foot of his tree, he remembered, and felt the clutch of foreboding in his gut. “I’ve seen early signs that might be cause for concern. If we take care of things quickly, before the weather warms up, we can get a handle on it. If anything slows that down, well, this time next year your sugar-bushes are going to look very different.” She let out a breath. “Next question?”

The session dragged on nearly an hour before Celie finally passed around handouts on the maple borer. Jacob waited impatiently for the meeting to end. He didn’t need handouts. He didn’t need to hear any more questions. What he needed was to talk to Celie Favreau.

Alone.

The knot around her was as thick as it had been before the meeting. But Jacob was nothing if not patient. One by one, the sugar-makers drifted off, and finally she stood on the low stage, stacking up the last of the literature she’d brought along.

“I thought it went well,” Bob Ford was saying as Jacob walked up.

“We got the information out there, anyway. What happens now will depend on what we find.”

“And how the lab tests turn out.”

Lab tests? Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward to stop just below the steps. “May I speak with you a moment?”

Celie glanced over at him, then at Bob Ford. “Why don’t you go on ahead, Bob? I’ll take care of this.”

“You want me to take that back to the Institute?” He nodded at the box of remaining leaflets and flyers.

“I’ll do it,” Celie said.

He nodded “I’ll lock the doors on my way out. Just make sure the lights are off and things are shut up when you leave.” He shook hands with them both and headed up the aisle.

Jacob looked at Celie. For the first time, they were eye to eye. Her gaze was speculative. She studied him, in fact, as though he were a puzzle that interested her.

Jacob shifted and nodded at the box of literature. “I can get that for you.” Action always came more easily to him than standing around. Or speaking.

“Thanks.” Celie watched him climb onto the low stage and pick up the heavy box. “So what do you think?”

“Of the talk?” Or of her? There was something about her, he thought, something appealing, maybe irresistible.

But that wasn’t why he was here.

“You were in my trees yesterday,” he said abruptly, knowing no other way than to be direct. “Were you inspecting them?”

The glint of humor in her eyes disappeared. “Not officially, no. I thought I was on Institute property. Something just caught my eye and I wanted a better look.”

“At what?”

Her pause was too deliberate. It made him uneasy. “Something interesting about the trunk.”

He felt the flare of impatience. “Don’t dance around the question. You were bent over one of my maples with a field kit when I walked up. What was that about?”

“Maybe nothing. I noticed the tree as I was driving by. Some things that are characteristic of an infested tree,” she elaborated. “I just wanted to take a closer look, but I didn’t realize it was your land.”

“I don’t give a damn about trespassing. I want to know what you saw.”

“I’m not sure.” She looked at him, her eyes troubled. “The bore holes were the right size but the wrong shape. I thought the sample I got out of the hole contained fungus but the test I did showed up negative.”

“Negative?” Relief made him lightheaded. “So it’s clear?”

“I’ll do a more comprehensive test tomorrow, once I get my lab set up. Of course, your dog knocked my vial into the snow before I got the top on, so the results aren’t iron-clad.”

“Murph can be a little overenthusiastic sometimes.”

“I’ll say. What is he, the love child of a lab and a Shetland pony?”

Jacob grinned. “Lab, great Dane and a little bloodhound thrown in for good measure, or so the vet tells me.”

“An interesting background beats a pedigree any time.”

“We’re nothing if not interesting around here.”

“I bet you are.” Killer smile, Celie thought as they stepped off the stage. A mouth that begged to be nibbled on and she was just the nibbler to do it. But it was the smile that lightened up that sober face, that made him approachable. His nose looked as though it had lost a battle once with something bigger or harder, but the resultant bump only made him look more interestingly rugged.

There was a strength to him, not just height and width of shoulder but some quality she couldn’t name. Certainty of self, perhaps. It was what had driven her to seek him out when she could have wandered to a seat by any of the men she’d been chatting with. They didn’t intrigue her.

Jacob Trask did.

They started up the aisle. “Speaking of interesting,” she said, “I’ve never seen a Feed ’n’ Read before.”

“I guess you’ve been by Ray’s. One of my favorite places.”

“So he was telling me.”

“He was telling you?” Jacob watched her walk ahead of him, the red trousers shifting in some very intriguing ways.

“He mentioned you.”

“If you got Ray talking, you’re good.” Then again, she’d somehow managed to get him talking, too.

“I got the impression he likes to do nothing but.”

“Not to strangers. Ray usually barks at strangers, if he talks to them at all.

“I guess I charmed him.”

Like she was charming him, Jacob thought. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, then I must be doing well. From what I hear, impressing you isn’t easy.”

“Sounds like people have been doing way too much talking, altogether.”

“Don’t worry,” she said as they neared the open doorway. “I’m a scientist. I prefer to collect data on my own.”

“Are you planning to collect data on me?” he asked, amused.

She glanced laughingly back over her shoulder at him. “I don’t know. Do you mind?” She started out the open door and then reached back in to shut off the lights.

Their hands landed on the switch at the same time.

It was just a touch, hand to hand, but the effects ricocheted crazily through his system. Vivid awareness of her fingers, cool and soft and tangled with his. For an instant, he felt her tense in reaction, then relax. It took him a moment longer than it should have to move his hand.

When he snapped the switch down, it enveloped them in a darkness broken only by the hallway light coming through the open door.

Her eyes were shadowed as she looked back in at him. He could see her profile, the quick tilt of her nose, the generous mouth. “Time to go.”

It might, Jacob thought uneasily, be long past time.

Painted maple leaves in a blaze of autumn colors adorned the white sign at the side of the road. “Trask Family Farm and Sugarhouse,” read the forest-green letters. The long, low clapboard building beyond was presumably the gift shop; at the far end, the shingled roof jumped up abruptly to the sugarhouse vent.