But rather than finding my mom or dad behind the table, I was surprised to see it being manned by our family farm’s bookkeeper.
“Hey, Ben.”
“Marley, what are you doing here?”
She shrugged. “Your dad found some humidity getting into the big fridge where he ferments the cheddar, and your mom stayed to keep him company while he fixed it. You know those two . . . everyone dreams of being as close as they are.”
I nodded. My mom and dad were somewhat of a legend in the area when it came to long-term romance. Then there was my single-mom sister and me, the eternal bachelor. We didn’t even come close to their legacy.
“I’ll have to give him a call. He didn’t mention it when I talked to him over the phone last week, so it must’ve just happened.”
“This morning. He tasted a bad batch, so he looked into it.”
“Well, I’m sure they’re grateful you’re covering for them. Thank you.”
“Who is this?” Marley said, ignoring my appreciation in favor of giving Murphy a curious look.
“Mar, this is Murphy, an old friend who just moved to the area. Murphy, this is Marley. She does the books for the farm and is practically family.”
“Murphy, nice to meet you.” Marley held out her hand, and Murphy shook it like a pro.
“I love the syrup,” Murphy told her. “I’m a sucker for anything sweet.”
“Well, let’s get you set up with some.”
Next thing I knew, I was watching Murphy slowly lick a spoon with blackberry syrup on it, her tongue gliding up and down to get every drop. The way she was making love to that spoon, I couldn’t help but wish that spoon was my mouth, or finger, or . . .
Well, you get it. It was the most sensual thing I’d ever seen. I really needed to get a hold of myself and my uncontrollable fantasies when it came to this woman.
Murphy tossed the spoon in the trash, moaning with pleasure. “Mmm, I love that. It’s absolutely heavenly.” Turning toward me, she said, “Ben, I never had this one.”
But what I heard was, “Ben, take me to bed.”
“I’ll take a bottle,” she told Marley, pulling out her wallet from her crossbody bag.
“On the house.” I gently pushed her wallet back toward her purse. “Put it on my tab,” I told Marley with a wink, and she went along with it.
I didn’t have a tab, but Marley knew damn well I’d be picking up the cost of the fridge repair for my dad. She did the books, so she had a good idea who paid a lot of the farm’s bills.
We chatted a minute longer before saying our good-byes so Marley could help someone else who was waiting. Strolling the aisles, holding hands, Murphy and I bought a couple of grilled Vermont cheddar sandwiches and hand-cut fries to share for an early dinner.
“I can check out the competition too,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich.
“So, cheese?” Murphy asked before taking a bite of her own.
“Yeah, well, syrup is a winter thing workwise, so the cheese is more like a side gig that ends up taking year-round. I’ll tell you this, my parents do make a mean grilled cheese on Saturdays and Sundays in the tasting room. They like to add fresh peppers and onions.”
“Wow. I need to go. This sandwich is good, but I’d rather have yours. Or theirs.”
Sitting on the picnic bench, we ate and talked about Hunnie making blackberry honey, and Murphy being desperate to get some now. And we also talked about the goats.
“That was the deciding factor for my dad on the animals,” I told her. “He figures it’ll be great for the gift shop and lead to many grilled cheese sandwiches and syrup sales. Once people have a taste of the product, they seek it out more and more. He’s hoping it gets so busy that Brenna will want to work for him, and take off some of the strain of her raising Branson by herself.”
“Why doesn’t she want to work for them now? It’s a family business, right?”
Setting my sandwich down on the bench, I sipped at my water as I took in the beauty in front of me. “She doesn’t want handouts or to be stuck doing syrup and cheese because they do. But let’s not ruin our evening by talking about her stubbornness. Let’s talk about goats.”
Not arguing with me, Murphy laughed. “They’re very friendly and like humans. Apparently, they’re good with kids, and yes, they do stand on your back during yoga. Did you know Hunnie is getting certified to be a yoga instructor?”
“I heard something about it. Online, right?”
“Yes. I love how she chases her dreams. It’s inspiring.”
“You’re inspiring,” I said, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss. “Come on. Let’s grab some dessert and get out of here.”
Grinning, Murphy jumped up from the bench.
With a bag of cider doughnuts between us in the center console and two hot cups of mulled cider in the cup holders, Murphy and I pulled up in front of my place.
I pressed the button to open my garage doors, which were now a faux wood. They matched the trim of the house, a single-story craftsman. It had been updated when I bought it, except for the attic, a large open space reached by a staircase off the kitchen that I’d made into a bedroom for Branson.
Now as I pulled my Jeep into the fairly neat garage, I wondered what Murphy would think of my home.
“I don’t know if I will ever get out of this car,” she said with a sigh. “It smells so good in here.”
“Don’t tell me you’re the apple-candle type of girl? They’re nice and all, but after a few hours, they really stink up a house.”
“Sounds like you know a lot about this subject.” Murphy pretended to be joking, but I detected a hint of jealousy in her question. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t like it.
“Brenna used to
