Page 2 of Beg Me

The corner of his wrinkled mouth lifts. “It won’t be a secret anymore if you keep telling people.”

“Are you going to go snitch on me?”

“Are you going to give me a discount?”

My mouth falls agape. “You’re blackmailing me? Over jam?”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” He chuckles, taking fifteen dollars out of his wallet. “I’ll take ’em both. But if I don’t like the cherry, I’ll be back to let you hear about it.”

I take the cash, place the jars in a paper bag, and hand it to him. “I have no doubt.”

“Stay cool,” he says, the bag trembling in his hand. “I’m heading home. It’s too humid out here for me. Makes me regret smoking for thirty years.”

“Need me to get someone to help you to your car?”

He snorts. “What do I look like? An old man?” He chuckles. “I’m fine. Thank you. Have a good day.”

“You, too, Mr. Crowder.”

I give him a wave as he turns away and then grab my bottle of water for a quick drink before my next customer. The stream of people exiting the barn has slowed, and the crowds buying artisan breads and local vegetables have thinned. Maybe we’ll get to close early.

“What are you selling over here?” A boy with a smile way too ornery for his own good leans against the table. “A jar of jam is $7.50? Who still uses change? Or cash, for that matter?”

“We do. It’s part of our charm.”

He hums, scanning the area like he’s searching for something.

“Can I help you?” I ask, tugging my brows together. “Are you looking for something specific?”

“Yeah.” He pulls his face to mine. “A way outta here.”

Blondish hair, big green eyes, and a cheeky smile—this kid is trouble … but probably the same version of trouble that I was as a kid.

And an adult.

I lean against the table. “A way outta here, huh?”

“No offense, but this is for old people.”

“Well, I mean, I’m here, and I’m certainly not old.”

He starts to speak but stops himself, smoothing his features like he wasn’t about to say something he shouldn’t. “I just mean there isn’t anyone here my age.”

Well played. “The kids hang out at the park in the summer. There’s always a pickup baseball or basketball game. Do you play?”

“I play it all. I’m just new here and don’t know anyone.”

“Head over to the park. I’m sure you can find something to entertain you there.”

“I will. Thanks.” He turns to leave but faces me again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “One more thing—are you single?”

My brows lift in surprise, but I can’t help but smile. “That’s wildly inappropriate of you to ask.”

“I’m not asking for me, lady. You’re way too old for me.”

I pause to take another drink. “Can we stop with the old people crap? You’re giving me a complex.”

“My apologies.” He sighs as if I’m exhausting him. “I don’t see a ring …”