Crossing the Line (The Cross Creek Series Book 2) by Kimberly Kincaid

Author:Kimberly Kincaid [Kincaid, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542046503
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2017-08-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Eli knew that after the last four hours of nonstop movement, he should be happy. No, scratch that. He should be ecstatic. Less than two minutes after the front gates for the farmers’ market had swung open, they’d seen a steady stream of customers at Cross Creek’s tent, asking for and buying everything from asparagus to zucchini. Between him and Owen and their old man, they’d sold every last Jonagold they’d been able to spare from the trees—including the ones he and Hunter had picked by the light of his F-150’s headlights at eight thirty last night—and more than half their other produce had practically flown out of the crates. Eli had chatted up dozens of folks who had seen yesterday’s video online, and paused for as many selfies with Scarlett, who had stayed true to her promise of keeping up with social media along with taking what looked to be a ton of new pictures for FoodE. Hunter had even called in to say that Cross Creek’s Internet traffic still looked as great as the last of the sweet corn he’d harvested for this week’s delivery to the Corner Market, who had increased their order for fall produce. So yeah, Eli should definitely be ecstatic.

Except for the fact that he was a fucking idiot.

The thought panged through him from chest to conscience, and he turned toward the box truck to grab a fresh crate of watermelons even though he’d replenished the three beneath the tent less than an hour ago. Okay, so he hadn’t meant to be so fast and loose with the writing thing when he and Scarlett had talked this morning. But between the hell-yes feeling of bringing in desperately needed business for Cross Creek and flirty banter with a smart, sexy woman, Eli had felt good—really, truly relaxed—for the first time in weeks.

Then he’d just had to go for the icing on the feelgood cake and sneak in a little wordsmithing, and bam! Scarlett had picked up on his passion in two seconds flat.

Which might not be so bad, except for the fact that in that tiny sliver of time after she’d asked if he had writing experience, Eli had wanted nothing more than to tell her the God’s honest truth.

He was the only Cross in three generations to not want to work the land in the Shenandoah Valley. He wasn’t a farmer. In his heart, his blood, in every last one of his bones, he was a writer.

Yeah. Make that a colossal fucking idiot.

Reaching into the back of the box truck, Eli hooked his fingers beneath the rough-edged hand slots of the wooden crate in front of him. He’d made a mistake, letting Scarlett grab a glimpse of who he really was, but it had been exactly that—a mistake. One he wouldn’t be making again.

Dodge. Deflect. Move the hell on.

Eli slid a glance at the sun, double-checking the hour against the time stamp on his cell phone. Although the farmers’ market would still be

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