Page 38 of Cherry Tree Ranch

“Seems everyone’s into that type.”

I furrow my brow while giving the cherry mixture a good swirl with the spoon. It’s done. I scrape the excess off the spoon and take a taste – God, it’s good.

I put a hand under the spoon and carry it to Cash. “Try,” I say, in a breathier voice than I intend.

He puts a hand over mine, holding the handle, and pulls it into his mouth. The red gel coats his lips and he swipes his tongue out to lick them.

“And you think everyone’s into that type?” I ask, taking a step back.

“Absolutely. Not just girls, either. My friend, Hank, thinks I’m hottie with a naughty body.”

“A little cocky, are we?” I look over my shoulder as I toss the spoon in the sink.

“Just know when I’m wanted,” he says.

“Oh, really? Do you feel the same way about him?”

“No,” he cuts me off. “I love Hank, but I … I’m more into girls with curves and cur—”

Mom walks in, rubbing tired eyes. “How’s it going in here?”

I don’t answer right away. All I can think is, curves and cur— What was he going to say next? Maybe that’s what he’s into, but Kaylee doesn’t fit that description with her slender figure and straight blonde hair.

“It’s going great,” I finally respond. “Look at how many cherries we have.”

Mom yawns and slumps over the stove, smelling the cherries in the pot.

She dips a clean spoon in and takes a taste. Her eyes close and then she stands up straight, turning to me with a smile and new brightness in her eyes.

“Sure was a good idea to add honey.” She pulls the silverware drawer open and lifts out a larger spoon. After filling the spoon with cherries, she blows at them and steam rises gently into the air. “Dahlia,” she says, not shy about reaching for yet another clean spoonful. “They’re transcendent. Cash, have you tried them yet?”

“I have.” He sets down the cherry he’s pitting and stares at me. The corner of his mouth creases into his cheek. “They’re amazing.”

“Dahlia’s going to enter them into the Young Producer competition at the fair. Did she tell you that?”

“Mom.”

“What? It’s exciting.”

Cash’s eyes still haven’t left mine. “I’m sure you’ll win,” he says.

Before Cash leaves, he lifts the rope handle to the root cellar and gets in. He’s so tall that his chin is at the same level as the floor. I hand down the jars full of cherries. They radiate in the glass like giant rubies.

“I’m still not sure how I’ll get them all to the market and the competition without making a zillion trips.” I sigh. We look down at the jars of cherries swimming in rich honey and scarlet juices. “Hey, what was it you wanted to tell me earlier before I got that text?”

He pushes a hand through his hair. “Oh, I … I wanted to tell you that … that you should use my truck for the next market.”

I look up at him, surprised. “Your truck? Don’t you have rodeo practice on Thursday?”

“Right, but what if … we load up my truck on Thursday morning, you drop me off at the fairgrounds for practice, then you go to the market. And if you’d want to … you can bring the truck back and watch. I’ll be there most of the day.”

“Really? You’d be OK with that?”

“Absolutely.”

“What have you got there?” Mom asks as I step up on a creaky porch board later, carrying Daisy’s saddle under both arms.

The saddle feels unnaturally heavy, but my stomach flutters as I tell Mom, “It’s Daisy’s saddle. Look.” I point to her name on the back. “Isn’t this cool?”