Wisteria Cottage

Peaches

Carter

I don't know what is going on with the weather but since I got here it's been nice. A few showers, mostly mild days. Sort of what I'd expected in Maine. Today it's so hot you could cook an egg on the pavement. Not that there is much, most of the island is covered in those pretty stones surrounded by moss or grass, heck, I don't know what they're called. But I swear that if I actually went over to the 'road' that they don't let cars on, I could fry a damn egg.

It's already blistering at 10:15 in the morning and I have just realized that the cottage doesn't have AC. I may die. I've flopped onto one of the fancy adirondack chairs in the yard under some really cool tree. It's got five trunks and peeling bark. I figure it's as cool as I'll get until I realize that I'll be much cooler with my shirt off.  Now I've got my eyes closed and a glass that's more ice than water in my hand and I've decided that I might survive.

I hear a squeak but pay it no mind. It's too hot to think, much less care. And then I hear a sharp inhale. "Oh, excuse me."

Finn. I peel open an eye to make sure I'm not delusional but no, he's here. And he's wearing pants. And a hat. And somehow, against all odds, he somehow looks even better in one. Or maybe it's just the angle, or the flush on his cheeks, or the sweat that I can see running down his neck. He has a hose in his hand and is probably doing the damn pots. Again. "You're working? In this heat?"

"Yep. If we didn't work while it was hot, we wouldn't get much done. I'll just be a few minutes, I'm going to weedwhip the stairs and I'll be out of your chest hair. I mean, hair. Um, yeah, I'm going now."

Holy shit, he's... okay, I can NOT let that go. "Big fan?" I ask, threading my fingers through the dark patch between my pecs.

"Well, um, I thought we'd established that I'm okay with fuzz? Sorry, that was totally unprofessional. Can I blame it on the heat? Not you, I mean you're hot but I wasn't... Um, bye!"

He waves and is halfway around the corner before I can get my mouth to form words. "Finn!"

He could not be any cuter as he peeks around from behind a bush. "Yes?"

"You're not actually going to, wait, did you say 'weedwhip'?"

"Yeah, it's too hot to mow today but I'll do the edging on the stairs because we've been trying to kill that creeping charlie anyway."

"I assume you mean weedwack and no, it's too damn hot to do anything today. Why don't you sit down and have a drink?" He really does look a bit wiped out.

"I have a schedule..."

"I'll fix that." I grab my phone and call Jack. "Cowboy Jack!" I proclaim when he answers.  This will be easy; he expects me to be a demanding jerk.

"Mr. Peach. What can I do for you?"

"I have an awful headache and I don't want Finn weedWACKing the yard today. Can I have him do a small project for me instead? Is that going to ruin his schedule?"

"Uh, no, that's fine. As long as he's okay with it. I'll radio him."

I feel no need to say good-bye, just hang up and tell Finn that he should sit down and have a drink. He goes back towards his bike and returns a few minutes later with a large water bottle and a small paper bag. "So what do you need me to do?"

"Not die of heat stroke, for one. Actually that's it. You look like you need a break." I motion to the chair beside me but he plops down on the grass right next to me instead.

"I appreciate it, really. It's very nice of you."

"Don't get used to it, I'm not nice."

He chuckles. "At first I thought you were grumpy, I won't lie."

"And you decided I'm not because...?" He was right the first time.

"I think you're just sad. I mean! Not like that! I mean, the emotion. Not like lame." He sighs, loudly. "I can't keep track of my feet today. They keep ending up in my mouth. Oooh, do you mind if I have a snack? Maybe it's a blood sugar problem."

Weirder things have happened. "Not at all, go for it." I'm not sad about much except losing McDougal to a kid way too young to have a gun, but I don't feel the need to tell him that. Part of me is glad he doesn't think I'm an asshole, at least. I quickly realize that I should have been one. See? This is what I get for being nice. I get Finn eating a fucking peach! Not only are those plump, gorgeous lips working overtime, but there is juice meandering down towards his chin. I can't help but stare. He won't notice, he's looking everywhere but at me. Probably still embarrassed by the whole chest hair comment but I'm not putting my shirt back on. In fact, he should take off his. "You can take yours off if you want. There's no AC in the cottage or I'd invite you in."

"Oh, thanks, but I'm fine." His tongue creeps out to lick to the corner of his mouth. "I'd offer you one, but..."

"Fuzz" I finish for him. "No, all yours." Wait, does that mean? Yep. One pit goes in the bag and another peach comes out. Fuck my life. I've got half a chub just from a guy who smiles more than I scowl eating a damn peach like it's the best thing he's ever tasted. This time even more juice escapes, sliding off his chin and down onto his neck. I don't think, just lean down and lick it off, then kiss him when he opens his mouth in shock. He tastes deliciously sweet and after the briefest pause, kisses me right back. He's no wallflower, that's for sure, and he's got me thinking about pinning him against a tree before he wrenches away from me. Shit, why the hell did I do that? "I'm sorry."

"Me too." And then he really is gone, the abandoned peach lying on the grass the only proof that he was here.