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All I want to do is wipe away that tense look on her face and it’s a good way to distract her, maybe help her forget the day she’s had, but it isn’t only for her benefit. The terror in her eyes when she ran to me earlier won’t get out of my head. I need to keep her close to me.
Calli watches as I load the necessary tools into the steel wagon and wheel it out of the shed. “Can I pull it?”
“Sure, but it might be too heavy when we get to the hill.”
“Psh, you underestimate me.” Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she takes the handle, and we start toward the graveyard. “After this, I need to get packed for tomorrow.”
“Are you excited?”
A brilliant smile raises her cheeks. “So excited. I love festivals, and I haven’t seen my concert friends for a long time.”
“Tell me about your friends.” We wind our way through the gravestones, the wagon rolling easily, until we get to the base of the hill. It takes about three steps for her to realize the wagon is heavier than it looks, but she doesn’t complain.
“There are twelve of us that keep in touch online, but we don’t all go to every event, of course. Freya, Leo, and Calvin are going to this one with me. They’re kind of my little group within the group, I guess. We hit more of the concerts in this part of the country. They’re a lot of fun. Sometimes Freya’s aunt Helen joins us—she’s in her sixties and has seen about every band you can think of live. She’s supposed to be there on the third night.”
The jealousy that strikes at the sound of the men’s names is sudden and sharp. Does she share a room with them? A bed? It’s none of my business, but I have to bite my tongue not to ask. She’s slowing down, struggling with the wagon. “You alright?”
“Fine.”
“Stubborn ass,” I chuckle, grabbing the handle.
She flashes a grin at me and moves her hand a little so mine can fit tucked alongside hers. We crest the top of the hill and continue down the other side through the field of clover, stopping when the hives come into view.
“Okay, time to suit up.”
She dresses in the suit then picks up the gloves. “Will you help with these?”
The memory of how she melted against me when I touched her last night won’t stop running through my head, how she shivered when I kissed her neck. My mouth dries out when shelooks up at me expectantly until I take the gloves. “I’ve got you.” Zipping her hood closed first is a self-preservation to keep me from kissing those lips.
She hasn’t mentioned anything about the moment we had, probably dismissing it as a drunken mistake. Mistake, yes, but my attraction to her has nothing to do with alcohol.
Once we’re both suited up, we continue to the hives. “Okay, these are for you,” I tell her, handing her the smoker and the bee brush. Picking up the hive tool, I move the wagon a little closer and open the storage container for the filled frames.
“Go ahead and start smoking them while I take the lid off. We want to keep them nice and calm.”
She stays right at my side, bathing them in smoke. “Are those stuck?”
“That’s what this is for. You have to go slow and easy.” She watches as I use the hive tool to pry a frame free and pull it out.
“Oh wow, that’s full.” The awe in her voice is almost as cute as her expression. She loves this.
“Yep, they’ve been busy. Okay, take the brush and sweep the bees off the cells. Gently. They’ll take off when the bristles touch them.”
Her face crumples into a look of concentration, her tongue peeking through her lips as she follows my directions. “Perfect. Now give them some more smoke.”
As she does that, I place the frame in the storage box. We continue through the rest of the frames the same way. “Will they survive the winter?” she asks.
“Sure. They have plenty of nectar and honey stored. We’ll check on them and if they do run low, I can feed them some nectar patties to help, especially if spring comes late.” She watches me secure the lid on the storage container. “We have to cover this because they will come after their honey.”
“You can’t blame them.” She holds the smoker up like a gun. “We’re robbing them at smoke point.”
“Do you think they’re up here plotting their revenge?”
“There’s a thought. What if they covered the house in honeycomb and trapped us inside?”
Chuckling, I put the lid on and grab the handle of the wagon, pulling it behind us as we put some distance between us and the hives. “I’m insulted that you think I couldn’t fight my way out of honeycomb.”
“They’d swarm over us and build a giant hive around the house. It’s a horror movie in the making.” Once we’re out of the danger zone, she spins around. “Are there any on me?”
