No More Secrets: A Small Town Love Story (The Pierce Brothers Book 1) (24 page)

She was pandering to fools just like the rest of the fashion industry, he had told her. Didn’t she want to do something important? Something meaningful? Did she only care about pretty dresses and celebrity gossip?

The words still had the power to cut her all these years later.

Summer rolled over to her side and switched her thoughts to Carter.
Was there any way this relationship could actually work?
she wondered. Moving to Blue Moon wasn’t an option for her. She had a plan and was within striking distance of the next step. She couldn’t just give it all up for ... what? What would she do on a farm in the middle of nowhere?

Could she move closer? Make it less of a long distance relationship? She thought of the train in Rhinecliff and shook her head against the pillow. Moving out of Manhattan would hurt her work in more ways than one. How long could they continue this way? Stolen moments, all-to-brief weekends. Constantly setting aside work to make time for each other.

What would suffer more? Their work or their relationship?

She took a sip of water from the glass she kept on her nightstand.

None of this could be decided tonight.

In September, she would have real answers, and with those answers she would be able to build a future that suited her. But was it fair to Carter to keep going without answers? Was it fair to tie him to her when things could change forever in a few weeks?

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I
t was just after one in the morning when Summer’s headlights hit the farmhouse.

The Saturday night fundraiser had run long thanks in part to the lengthy speeches during the award portion of the evening. Summer felt a little guilty for bolting before dessert had been served, but she had paid her dues by logging in to a Saturday morning production video chat with several of the magazine’s go-to freelancers.

What she did with her very late Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, was her business.

It was a good pep talk, but she still couldn’t shake the guilt. It seemed to be following her everywhere these days.

She parked in front of the house and carried her bag up the front steps. The front of the house was dark, except for the soft glow of the porch light. The front door was open as always.

Summer left her bag at the foot of the stairs and followed the light that came from the kitchen.

She found Jax in gym shorts and nothing else working on his laptop in the great room. The TV was muted to accommodate the woman grumbling over the speaker of Jax’s phone.

“Look, I know it’s trite. I know it’s been done. But the formula works and we gotta figure out how to make this unlikeable hero likeable enough that the audience doesn’t end up cheering for the bad guy,” the disembodied voice explained.

“Uh-huh.” Jax pulled up ESPN on his laptop. “How about you walk me through some of your ideas, Penny?”

Summer cleared her throat softly.

Jax rolled his head on the back of the sofa and grinned when he saw her.

Penny droned on about an opening sequence.

“Carter?” Summer mouthed.

Jax pointed upstairs and laid the side of his face on his hands miming sleep.

She winked and waved.

Jax shook his head and tapped his cheek until Summer moved in to give him a kiss. He ruffled her hair. “Welcome back,” he whispered.

Summer headed back down the hall and grabbed her bag. Upstairs, she found Carter’s bedroom door cracked open. She stepped inside and put her bag down, admiring the view.

He was sprawled on his back. The sheet bunched low on his waist, baring the glory of his torso to her.

All doubts and concerns that had hammered in her head for days now disappeared and were replaced with a sharp, desperate need.

As Summer stripped off her clothes, Carter’s eyes flickered open. Opening his arms, he lifted the sheet and welcomed her to his bed.

Nothing else mattered.

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S
unday morning dawned bright and despite the lack of sleep the night before, the residents of Carter’s bed woke with enthusiasm.

Summer felt a twinkle of pride when Carter pulled on the t-shirt she gave him. She dressed quickly in shorts and a pretty tank and followed Carter downstairs. 

In the kitchen, Jax arched an eyebrow watching Summer struggle to tame her blonde tresses with a bun and Carter reach for the coffee pot with a self-satisfied grin. “You two look ... rested,” he commented.

“And you look like you got a nice, quiet night’s sleep. Alone,” Carter smirked.

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

“Boys,” Summer warned. She gave up on her hair and pulled on her Yankees cap.

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison.

“I can’t begin to imagine the hell that you three put your poor mother through over the years.”

“Phoebe Pierce isn’t the innocent little angel you think she is. She tortured us in ways only a mother can,” Jax said through a mouthful of cereal.

“Piano lessons,” Carter supplied.

“Carpool sing-alongs on the way to school,” Jax added.

“That time she got pissed at us and hid the TV remotes for a week.”

“The Great Vegan Experiment of 1995.”

“Trust us,” Carter said, riffing the bill of her cap. “We learned torture from the best.”

Jax dumped his empty bowl in the sink. “Give me five minutes to change and I’ll be ready to go.”

He hustled upstairs, and Summer and Carter ate a quick breakfast. Jax came back down wearing his Pierce Acres t-shirt.

“Aren’t you two cute in your matching shirts?” Summer cooed.

“It’s our farmers market uniform,” Carter grinned. “And technically, you’re to blame for it.”

“Yeah, you know, I think Summer could use a little branding,” Jax said, scratching his chin.

“Like the hot iron, flesh-searing branding?” Summer gulped.

“Well, we could go in that direction, or you could just wear this,” Carter said, tossing her a green t-shirt.

“You got me a shirt!”

“Welcome to the family,” Carter said, kissing the top of her head. “Go change.”

T
he entire town square with its wide brick sidewalks and leafy shade trees had been transformed into an open-air market. It wasn’t quite eight yet, and already it was bustling. Vendors, including the Pierce brothers, erected pop-up canopies over folding tables that were soon covered in a variety of wares.

Summer helped unload and then stepped in to take over the setup when she realized they intended to just dump produce in sloppy piles.

“Trust me on this,” she said, wielding a summer squash at Carter. “Presentation is important.”

She organized the cucumbers, squash, and ears of corn into a cascading rainbow of color on the table before moving on to neatly stack beefsteak tomatoes in an upended crate on the ground. The green beans she lay in precise horizontal rows, edging the length of the table.

“Some galvanized tubs and crates would be better,” she muttered to herself. “And little handwritten chalkboard signs for the names and prices.”

“Huh,” Carter grunted.

She turned from her work. Carter and Jax were standing, arms crossed, studying her display.

“That looks a lot better than what we usually do,” Jax said.

“Your stand is going to be photographed today. It should look its best,” she lectured, opening one of the paper sacks and weighting it with a beefy cucumber so that the Pierce Acres stamped logo was visible.

Summer stood back to admire her work and gave it a nod.

“Okay. Now what?”

“Now we wait for the crowds to descend demanding high quality vegetables,” Carter said, rubbing her shoulders.

“Well, look who decided to step up their game.” Beckett strolled over, hands in the pockets of his shorts. “I can tell neither one of you style-less idiots did this.” He swept Summer into a bear hug, lifting her off her feet.

“Summer classed up our stand.” Jax picked up three tomatoes and started to juggle.

“It’s more art directing,” she laughed, as Beckett put her on her feet again.

“If you can hang out here for a few minutes before going all Mr. Mayor on us, I’ll take Summer on the grand tour of the market,” Carter said to his brother.

Summer checked the time. They still had an hour before Niko was due to meet them.

“Sure, but it’ll cost you. Bring me back a bag of those mini donuts,” Beckett said, joining Jax behind the table.

Carter led Summer away by the hand as Beckett challenged Jax to juggle cucumbers.

“Are you sure it’s safe to be seen together here?” Summer said, tugging at their joined hands.

Carter brought her hand to his lips. “I realized that as long as the BC thinks they won, they leave me alone.”

“Have they won?” she laughed, as they walked past a stand selling reusable shopping totes.

“They don’t consider it an official win until there’s a marriage license. So we’ve got some time before they crank up the pressure again.”

Carter was just kidding, Summer told herself as her stomach pitched with guilt. They had known each other for a month. It was too soon in a summer fling to start talking futures.

“Where are these donuts Beckett asked for?” Summer asked as they looped past a handmade soap stand run by a woman wearing a turquoise jumpsuit and round Lennon sunglasses.

“Right next to Willa’s vegan flip-flop stand,” Carter said, nudging her forward.

“Vegan flip-flops?”

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T
hey returned to the booth with little bags of fresh donuts for everyone and two pairs of Willa’s flip-flops for Summer. Willa had predicted a long and loving relationship. Summer still wasn’t sure that she had been talking about shoes.

Phoebe had arrived and paused in her booth supervision to greet Summer with a big, heartfelt hug.

“So happy to see you again, Summer,” she said, giving her one last squeeze. “Are you going to help me whip these boys into produce-selling machines?”

Summer stepped over a smashed tomato, the victim of a juggling mishap, she presumed.

“Nikolai will be here soon. I think I’ll just watch you all work your market magic.”

“Yeah. Mom’s not going to let that happen.” Carter said, digging out the cashbox. “It’s all hands on deck here.”

And it was. Within minutes the entire square was bustling with business. It seemed everyone in Blue Moon was either a vendor or a shopper. It was friendly, colorful chaos. She caught snippets of conversations about summer vacations, the closing of the local yoga studio. Apparently Maris was closing up shop and moving to Santa Fe.

Everyone knew everyone, and that included the Pierces. They answered questions about the farm and asked after everyone’s Uncle Bill or family dog. Jax caught up with old friends from high school and their parents, spouses, and children.

The whole market had the festive feel of a summer picnic. And it wasn’t long before Summer was drawn into conversations with Fitz, who was there for a bag of donuts, and Ernest Washington. Rainbow stopped by and officially introduced herself. She passed Summer a brochure on opening a new checking account at the bank.

Beckett took a break to catch up with the other vendors and make himself available to the rest of the residents. Carter called it his “kissing babies lap.” He came back twenty minutes later with a carrier of coffees. “Overly Caffeinated traded me coffee for two dozen eggs. Can you bag ’em up for me, Summer?” he asked, handing over the coffee.

When Beckett left to deliver the eggs, Summer allowed herself a short coffee break to scope out the stand next door. It was an organic milk stand run by a local dairy farm. Their big draw was the frisky little calf they brought with them. Sassy trotted around her portable pen welcoming pats and scratches from treat-bearing visitors.

Jax caught Summer stroking Sassy’s soft ears. “It’s emotional blackmail,” he told her. “How is someone supposed to just pick up a carton of growth hormone-laden milk at the gas station without thinking about happy, grass-fed Sassy?”

“At least they aren’t selling steaks with Sassy here as their spokesperson,” Summer said, giving her a final ear scratch before ducking back under the canopy. “That would be emotional blackmail and a terrible business strategy.”

Summer moved in behind Carter to grab more paper bags and caught the tail end of his conversation with a frazzled looking woman with frizzy auburn hair. “So we’ll see you at ten tomorrow. I really,
really
appreciate it,” she said.

“Looking forward to it, Tracey,” Carter said in a voice that made Summer believe he was lying through his nice, straight teeth. The woman hurried off carting a half dozen bags with her and Carter turned around to look at Beckett.

“Absolutely not,” Beckett snapped. “There’s no fucking way you’re dragging me into that mess again.” He shuddered. “I still have nightmares about last year.”

“Fine. I can count on my favorite brother here,” Carter said, dropping an arm over Jax’s shoulders.

“I get to be the favorite? Cool.” Jax grinned.

“You won’t think so when one of those baby-toothed monsters sets fire to your pants while the others try to pillage the farm.”

“Does Beckett hate children?” Summer asked.

“These aren’t just any children. They’re Higgenworth Communal Alternative Education Day Care children,” Beckett said, his eye twitching.

When Summer just looked at him, Carter stepped in. “They come from parents who don’t like using the word ‘no’ and think that structure and discipline squash their delicate, little kid spirits.”

“So they’re holy terrors?”

“Exactly. And you, my beautiful girl,” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, “get to see them up close and personal tomorrow morning when they come for their annual field trip.”

“Stop making out and get me some change,” Beckett snarked.

“You’re just jealous that you have no one to make out with,” Phoebe clucked.

“That’s low, Mom. Real low.”

Summer counted out ears of corn and bagged tomatoes for Carter while he talked trailer hitches and rainwater barrels with patrons. She was so busy making change that she didn’t notice that Nikolai had arrived until he shoved his camera in her face.