The Farmer's Market (22 Hours Ago)

"One, two-"

"Ahh shit!"

I pause counting the tomatoes in my carrier tote and glance at the man who's about two steps next to me. His face is hidden as he works to wipe off the large pink stain on his white t-shirt with the back of his hand.

"Jaime, what's with these today? I barely touched this one and it squirted all over me," the man says to the vendor behind the stand with a voice low and rich, like he could be a sport's announcer.

"What? The tomato?"

The man beside me guffaws and then throws a tomato at the vendor, who catches it easily and laughs. "Of course the tomato, you perv."

A smile tugs at my lips.

"Bro, that means tomatoes are good!" He tosses one into the air after gesturing to the man's shirt. "They were picked from the farm this morning. And I guarantee they're the best here. How many do you want?"

"I'll take a whole box." The man huffs out a laugh as he gives up trying to brush off the splatter across his chest. As soon as he moves to place some tomatoes in a box, I stare at him a little more closely. He's tall with a medium size build. Dark brown, short, scruffy facial hair paints his face, color matching the thick hair on his head. I quickly look away, however, when the man's light brown eyes lock onto mine.

Don't be a creep, Gem.

I continue counting the tomatoes in my bag but pause when I sense the man's gaze unmoving. I look back up, and as soon as our eyes meet again, he smiles and something shifts in my stomach. I smile politely back but then quickly turn to start analyzing the tomato in front of me, trying to ignore this very attractive man who is now staring at me.

"Careful not to squeeze too hard."

"Sorry?" I look back up at him. He's donning a toothy smile and is now facing me. The air feels different, like maybe it's more humid out now all of a sudden.

"He's talking about the tomatoes," the vendor chimes in.

The stained-shirt man rolls his eyes in mock annoyance at the vendor before looking back at me with those striking eyes. "Of course, the tomatoes. No need to squeeze. Apparently, I needed to take one for the team to find out if they were good or not." The man tilts his head down towards the stain.

"Oh, yes. I saw that. Bad luck." I pause to look down at the man's shirt. It almost looks as if he drooled a mixture of blood and water. I pout briefly and then ask, "I think I have Tide-To-Go in my purse if that'll help?"

"Nah I'm good. This shirt just wanted to match many of the other shirts I have at home."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind."

"How embarrassing is it?"

I glance at the stain once more and smile before rummaging through my purse for my trusty Tide stick. "Here. Trust me, this thing is a lifesaver," I say after handing it to the man.

"Oh, thanks... how do I use it though?" He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, showcasing a bulging bicep.

My gaze lingers just a moment before I force myself to look down and laugh. "What! How have you never used Tide-To-Go before? I literally use it at least once a week." The sound of the cap popping makes me look back up. He starts lightly dabbing the stain with hesitancy.

"Hmm...I guess I'm not as clumsy as you?" He shrugs with a smirk.

"Ha, ha! That coming from the man who apparently owns many shirts with stains," I reply dryly, trying to hold in my grin. He chuckles but remains quiet as he attempts to use the cleaning product. I clear my throat. "I'm not clumsy. I just like to keep things clean and orderly. It's borderline obsessive, really." I let out a nearly inaudible huff through my nostrils. What am I saying?

"Well, acceptance is always the first step. I hope you have a good support system to keep you grounded for your recovery journey ahead," he responds in between glances from his cleaning.

I let out an audible laugh this time, which seems to trigger an even wider grin on his face, creating brackets around his mouth. It only lasts a moment though, as his gorgeous smile quickly fades. "This thing's broken."

"Here let me help you." I grab onto his hand that holds the pen but then instantly freeze.

Shit. What am I doing?

His skin is slightly rough, and it feels as though I might burn myself if I linger too long. I look up for a moment to meet his eyes and sense a curiosity laced with light brown. I inhale quickly, but then instantly regret it when a warm citrus and sandalwood-type scent fills my nostrils. Woah, why do I feel light-headed? Gulping, I resolve to not make the proximity and touch doomed to awkwardness. Just commit, Gemma. Commit!

With a deep breath in, I commit myself to aggressively wiping off the tomato juice-soaked cloth that's draping the man's broad chest. Definitely not noticing how the newly wetted t-shirt clings to his skin. And definitely not noticing how the muscle on his arm bulges when I grab onto it.

Oh God, why did I grab onto his arm? Focus, Gem. Focus!

"Slow down, that tickles," the man says as he grabs onto my shoulder for support, spreading the zap of heat to other touchpoints.

"You gotta go faster, or else it won't come off. It's science," the vendor Jaime chimes in again as he passes by to help another customer.

I try to move faster. To a Farmer's Market bystander, it probably looks like this man and I are doing some ritualistic performance that requires me to carry out an exorcism on his chest with a pen-like object.

"Hold still, I almost got it." If only I had this kind of determination to finish a movie when I started one. "There! That should do it. Good as new!" I step back to admire my handy work, but get a little dizzy when the man takes his hand off my shoulder.

"Wow. Actually. That's amazing. I didn't think this would actually work."

"Right! I recommend it to everyone. I really should start getting commission from Tide," I say as I place the exorcism pen back in its home.

He laughs. "Well, if I ever do get one of their execs in the restaurant I work at, I'll be sure to let them know."

My eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise. "Wait. You work at a restaurant? Which one? Maybe I've eaten there."

"Perusing Port?"

"Hmm, it sounds kind of familiar. Is it new?"

"No, we've been open for a while, but we just closed to do some big renovations. Hoping to open back up in a couple of weeks."

"Well, I'm a food critic and I wonder if I'll come across it at some point." Crap, I probably shouldn't have said that. I need to be better about keeping my identity under wraps. It's the one thing I can't seem to do lately.

His eyes grow wide, drawing my attention back to the chestnut color of his irises. "Wait, what? You're a food critic?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Yeah, right. I call bull. I don't believe you." He crosses his arms and shakes his head while shifting on his feet.

"What?" I tilt my head back, my smile faltering.

"You are one hundred percent lying to me right now. There is no way you're a food critic," he says with a vigorous head shake, causing me to furrow my brows.

"Um, why would I lie about that?"

The corner of the man's mouth tilts up slightly before he says, "You're too pretty to be a food critic. I would have thought you were a model."

I furrow my brows while my cheeks heat. "Uh, thanks, I guess."

"So, wait, that's really cool. What are the chances that I ran into you? When can you visit the place? Do you have a card I can –"

"Did you just hit on me so that I would visit your restaurant?" I interrupt him as soon as the thought comes to me. It wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened.

"What? Me?" The man smirks. "Okay, but is that something that works?"

"No. Anyways, I have to go." I roll my eyes and turn around to walk in the other direction.

"Wait, please. I was kidding. Please. I'm sorry."

I turn back around to find the man pleading with palms pressed together in front of his perfectly curved mouth. Stop looking at his mouth.

He continues when I don't move. "Please. We've been really struggling with publicity. I know that was a dick move to lay it on thick to get you to come to the restaurant. I mean, you are gorgeous, don't get me wrong –"

I huff and am ready to turn around again, ignoring the prickle over my skin. But when his volume rises slightly higher, and his hand briefly touches the side of my arm, I pause. "But..." He interlocks his fingers together in a praying motion before continuing, "Don't let me being an asshole deter you from the amazing staff and food at the restaurant. Please, please, please, can I give you a card?"

I sigh and cross my arms, giving him a look that says hurry up.

The man smiles as though he's a kid who has just been told he's getting his favorite candy bar for dinner. "Thank you, thank you! I guarantee you'll be amazed. The newly renovated place is going to knock everything you've ever known about food out of the park." When I give him a forced smile, he quickly pulls out his wallet and shuffles through to grab a business card, handing it over. I tuck it into my black pants pocket without glancing at it.

"I can't make any promises."

"Of course. Totally understandable. Just you having my card is good enough for me."

My face softens as my curiosity piques. "Are you a chef there?"

"Well, technically I'm -"

"Babe!" I jump slightly at the sound of a familiar voice approaching. "The Port-A-Pottys were disgusting, and the line was so long. Can we go now?"

I turn my attention to Carter who has his arms crossed as he comes up to me. I can still see the other man from my peripherals and his smile falters.

"Oh hey, Carter. Sorry, yep, I'm just about done."

"Amazing." Carter looks towards the man. "We'll take whatever is in her bag. How much?"

"Carter!" My pulse picks up. "He doesn't work here!"

"Oh, sorry dude! My bad. Wait, who are you?"

"Carter! Let's go. This man just has a restaurant I may try," I interject. Carter and the man simply nod towards each other before I continue. "Nice meeting you. See you around."

The man's smile comes back before he responds with, "You too. And I hope so."

A small inkling of a butterfly sweeps through my stomach. It's like one of those small butterflies you see while crossing the street and wonder things like, "Aww, how nice!" and "Wait, what is he doing here in the middle of the city?"

I pay for my items and walk towards the exit alongside Carter who continues to point out everything that's bugging him about the Farmer's Market today and how it's taking so much time.

Nearing the exit, my head turns slightly to look back at the tomato man. His gaze is intent on me, making my cheeks warm and the butterfly in my stomach finding a few others to dance alongside.

***

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