Sutton

ME: So I had a brilliant idea for a new event on the farm.

FINN: Chippendales, right? That's your brilliant idea?

CHARLIE: What's the version of that for men? Because if women get an exotic dancing night, then so should we.

JJ: Strippers, Charlie. That's the version for men. Strippers.

JENSEN: Nope.

ME: Shut-up, you assholes. You're ruining my big moment.

ME: Ready for it?

ME: Goat yoga!

JENSEN: Again, nope.

VIVI: Oh my gosh, yes! We need to do that!

JENSEN: See above answer.

ME: Go ask your girlfriend, J. I bet she'd be on board with us using her goats.

JENSEN: Last I checked, Teddy wasn't the boss.

FINN: Of the farm anyway. Of everything else in your life? Ha, let's try that again.

JENSEN: *middle finger emoji*

ME: Fine, what if we just make it regular yoga then? No goats. Yoga on the Farm. Has a nice ring to it. I want to do it one morning a week and offer a separate class for kids so the stay-at-home-moms can come. It's a great thing to add to our community. I know plenty of moms who would eat this shit up.

VIVI: Yes! This is a great idea, J. Think about it.

JJ: I actually agree.

JENSEN: Since you keep turning down my offers to work at the farm, your opinion doesn't count, cousin.

FINN: MILFs in tight yoga pants? Sign me up!

CHARLIE: Me too.

SULLY: I could get on board with that.

ME: Perverts can see themselves out of this conversation.

SULLY: I've been trying to leave this chat for years.

JENSEN: Finally something we agree on.

ME: I'm not giving up, J! This is a good business idea!

I tuck my phone in the back pocket of my denim overall shorts with a groan. Leave it to my siblings to turn a great idea into something inappropriate. That's no surprise coming from my twin stepbrothers, Finn and Charlie. They pretty much have the maturity level of a thirteen-year-old boy. Sully, my foster brother, is always a wildcard. You never really know what you'll get from him. Mostly he stays silent, his disdain for group texts apparent. At least Vivi and my cousin JJ are on board. Maybe with more pestering, I can convince Jensen. I am not above using his girlfriend to get my way either. Convince Teddy, win over Jensen.

With a plan in place, I look around The Flower Shop, my little oasis on Anderson Farm—my family's farm that is really more like a destination spot than anything. We have every season and holiday covered—from apple picking and haunted forest in the fall to sledding and wreath making in the winter to U-Pick flowers and berries, farmer's market, and wood fired pizza nights in the spring and summer months.

Jensen took over running the farm when our dad retired, and most of my siblings fell into various jobs here, with the exception of Sully and JJ. They prefer to remain on the outskirts of the family in every sense of the way, and I try not to take offense since I realize there are underlying factors I can't possibly understand.

Our big dysfunctional blended family is a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them. My dad remarried Maxine a few years after my mom died, and the marriage came with three brand new stepsiblings. Plus, my cousin JJ lived with us more than she didn't when her mom dropped her off and then disappeared for days, weeks or months. Once it was nearly a year before she popped back up to resume her parenting duties. Then add in Sully, a foster brother, and we had a loud, bustling, chaotic house.

The breeze flowing through the small building of The Flower Shop rustles the bundles of cut flowers in the vases scattered strategically around the space. The building has garage-style doors on all four sides to allow ample air and light in during the warm months, but still be functional in the cold months. Currently, all four doors are opened, the early morning light streaming in, casting hazy spotlights on my prized flowers.

I'm the farm's florist, and the array of colors from the variety of flowers makes me happy. I love how flowers are seasonal, always changing the landscape of the gardens and the aesthetic of The Flower Shop.

People come to the farm for either the U-Pick Flowers, where they can walk among the rows and rows of flowers to create their own unique bundles, or they can choose from the pre-cut flowers in the shop. We stay busy all year long, even after the U-Pick season ends and we have regular flower deliveries from bigger flower shops in the area.

Frannie, my teenage seasonal worker, enters the Flower Shop through one of the open garage doors carrying a basket of cut flowers in one hand and her phone in the other, thumb flying across the keyboard as she undoubtedly texts with expert precision. She's been working here the past few summers and she's secretly my favorite. Although she's constantly on her phone and is usually late, she's efficient at her job and her exuberant personality reminds me of myself at her age. It's like working with a little Mini Me.

"Hey, Fran."

At my voice, she looks up from her phone and smiles. "Hey, boss. Did you see the hottie out there picking flowers with his little girl? Why are dads so hot?"

I chuckle as I slide out of the building to get my fill of the man in question. Sure enough, there's a man in his early 30s walking through the rows of flowers with a little girl with wild, fiery red hair. I duck back inside. "Yep. Total hottie. As my brother would say, total DILF."

She sizes me up as if noticing me for the first time. I feel a bit uneasy under her assessment. Teenagers can be cruel in their honesty.

"You could probably get him. I mean, you have this whole 'I don't give a fuck' attitude about you, coupled with those curves." Throwing the basket of flowers on the worktable, she leans her elbows next to it, resting her head in her hands. "What's your game then?"

I blink a few times and then clear my throat, completely thrown by her backhanded compliment and question. "Huh?"

"How do you plan on snagging him? Play all sweetly with the daughter, get in her good graces first? That could work if he's looking for a baby mama. Oh shit, what if he's not single? Maybe I should do some recon and search for a wedding band first. You don't want to make an ass of yourself if he's taken. That would sting for weeks, I'm sure, especially at your age when the prospects are much lower."

"Wait," I interrupt her. "How old do you think I am?"

She stands up straight, drumming her fingers on the battered wooden surface, and tilting her head as if that'll help her determine my age. "Ball park guess? 33, 34 maybe?"

"You're wrong. I'm still in my 20s you little wench. But how is early 30s considered too old to have ample amount of dating prospects?"

She shrugs. "Them's the facts. I don't make them."

"So," I say, curiosity getting the best of me. "What are the prospects for a, say, 26-year-old then?"

With a lift of a brow, she barely spares me a glance as she begins sorting through the basket of flowers. "I can smell your desperation from here, Sutton. And it ain't pretty."

I groan, throwing myself down on the big wooden worktable. "Why? Why does dating even exist? I need a fairy godmother to beepity-boopity me my perfect dream man."

Laughing, she throws a flower at me. "Man, you make getting old look really pathetic. Remind me in 10 years of this conversation so I can do the exact opposite of whatever this is."

"Frannie," I say, standing up and glaring at her. "You are fired. Relieved of your duties. Hang up your apron and never return. You are too mean to be in my presence."

She throws her head back and cackles. "Wondering how long it'd take you to fire me today. It's a record. A whole 20 minutes."

I throw the flower back at her and groan. "You suck. What happened to respecting your elders? Where's your appreciation for the older generation?"

"Weren't you just trying to convince me you're not old? And now you're pulling the respect your elders card? You really need to work on your consistency. Your game is off."

I walk around her, untying her apron. "Off with this. You're fired! From now on I will only work with peasants who respect me and idolize me for the awesome woman I am."

With that announcement, I leave the building in a huff. I do, in fact, do my own recon work to see if the DILF is sporting a wedding band. Spoiler alert: he is, indeed, wearing one.

-

AT THE END OF THE DAY, I hang up my apron, close the garage doors to the shop and lock up. As I walk across the farm in the direction of the offices, I pile my long, wavy hair atop my head, holding it in place with my hand when the cool breeze hits my warm skin. The mugginess of the August day clings on with a vice-like grip as late afternoon gives way to evening.

I let my hair drop, the light blonde strands falling down my back and over my shoulders as I dig out my phone to send a quick text to my brother's girlfriend. Project Yoga on the Farm in full effect starting now.

ME: I'm heading your way. Got a brilliant idea I need your help with.

TEDDY: Go round to the back. We're on the patio. Can't wait to hear this plan of yours. I'm assuming J said no. That's why you need me?

ME: Your boyfriend is a thick-headed dummy. He wouldn't know a good idea if it hit him in the head.

TEDDY: Your brother can be resistant to change. But he's not a dummy.

ME: How long did it take him to figure out his feelings for you?

TEDDY: Fine. He's an idiot.

ME: Get ready to work your magic!

TEDDY: Wait. Is this about Kelly?

ME: Huh? Why would this be about Kelly?

I send the last text and keep my eyes fixed to my phone awaiting Teddy's response. What prompted her to bring up Kelly?

I get my answer as soon as I round the office building, which also houses my brother's loft apartment above it, and approach the patio out back. I'd know his deep baritone anywhere. My head pops up at the sound, instantly forgetting my phone, and stare at the scene in front of me.

Jensen's arms are lifted in the air in an effort to block Kelly from shooting a basket. My brother had a basketball hoop installed on the patio after Teddy moved in. It has some sentimental value attached to it from our childhood days on the cul-de-sac we grew up on, and the neighborhood kids all playing ball on the hoop there.

"What are you doing here?" I ask before I can stop the words from escaping my mouth.

The game pauses at my words, and Kelly looks over at me wearing a wide grin. "What's it look like, baby girl?"

"Nope. Don't call me that. You know I hate it."

Teddy walks up behind me carrying an armful of beers. "I guess you can ignore my text," she whispers as she stops next to me. "I can see you didn't know he was going to be here."

"Uh, noooooo. No, I did not."

She gestures for me to take a beer before she walks to the table and sets the rest down. "You staying for supper, too, Sutton?"

I sink into a chair, popping the top off the beer. "I guess so," I mumble, unable to hide my displeasure of the unexpected guest, and I suck down the cool liquid of the beer to distract myself.

Kelly dribbles the ball a few times, chuckling to himself. "Remember what happened the last time we were all on this patio together?"

Everyone stills, the awkward memory of a few weeks ago like a ghost haunting us. Seeing your brother's naked girlfriend straddling him on a patio chair is not something easily erased from your brain.

Kelly points to me with a shit-eating grin. "Pretty sure that's the lucky chair, too."

I fly out of the chair, gagging. "Gross, Kelly. Thanks for putting that image back in my head. It's not like I haven't been trying to erase that from my memory for weeks now."

Jensen scowls; Teddy cackles. When Kelly starts to laugh, Jensen steals the ball from his hands and then chucks it at him. "You're lucky it was dark that night or I'd be kicking your ass for seeing my girl naked."

Kelly passes the ball back to his friend, shaking his head. "Relax, J. I didn't see anything. Besides, Teddy is like a dude to me. One of the guys. Always has been, always will be."

"What about our Sutton Button here?" Teddy asks, trying to play it off innocently, but I eye her suspiciously.

Kelly turns his gaze on me, running his eyes up and down my body. A smirk turns the corners of his lips up. "Definitely not a dude."

"Watch it," Jensen warns.

Teddy swats his stomach. "Lighten up, J. Sutton is a fully grown woman. And, in case you missed it, she's gorgeous. Someday a guy is going to come along and sweep her up. Would it be so bad if it was someone you knew and trusted, like your best friend of decades?"

Jensen grunts. "As far as I'm concerned, my baby sister is a virginal nun who will remain so until she dies. No man will ever be good enough for her."

I chuck my bottle cap at him and round the table to take a different seat. "Hate to break it to you, brother, but my virginal days ended many, many years ago. Cherry popped when I was a teenager by Stevie Henderson in his parents' basement. Spoiler alert: it was not what dreams were made of. And, no, he did not improve every time after. In fact, I didn't know sex was supposed to be good until college when I met—"

"Sutton! Jesus! Enough. We don't want to know any of this shit!" Jensen groans, tossing the ball into the grass and joins me at the table. I notice he avoids "the chair" too.

Scout, my brother's dog, attacks the basketball, nudging it with his nose until it rolls away, and he chases after it.

"Speak for yourself, babe," Teddy says, joining us at the table. "I definitely want to hear. Go on, someone in college rocked your world...?"

Kelly sits in "the chair" and smirks at me as he runs his palms along the arms. His actions are playful, but his eyes are intense. "J's right. We don't want hear it, Sutton."

I try not to react to the way he says my name since I know he's only doing it because I told him not to call me his pet name. Baby girl. I tell him I hate it, but it's the fact that I don't hate it that bothers me.

Teddy cackles, enjoying herself far too much. "You boys are prudes. Girls always dish about our sex lives. Pretty sure Rylie knows every dirty thing J and I have ever done. You think the patio was bad—"

We all scream for her to stop, and Jensen claps a hand over her mouth to silence her. I cover my ears and hum a tune to block out any further stories of my brother's sexcapades making their way into my brain. Kelly chuckles at the scene unfolding around him.

When he's sure his girlfriend is done, Jensen asks, "Baby, what the fuck? Stop telling your best friend our personal business."

She blinks innocently at him. "You don't tell Kelly?"

Kelly sits back in the chair with an amused look.

"Maybe once upon a time we traded stories," Jensen explains. "But not about you. That's weird. He knows you. We all hang out. He doesn't need to know how I fuck you."

"Good," Teddy says, bobbing her eyebrows up and down. "He fucks me good. FYI."

Jensen groans, and Kelly and I roar with laughter at his expense. I whisper to Kelly, "I think someone's getting spanked tonight."

He raises a brow. "Do you want it to be you, baby girl?"

I can feel my cheeks heat and I bow my head to hide the blush. "Depends. Who's doing the spanking?"

Kelly groans and he reaches for a beer on the table. "Did you delete that stupid dating app yet?" he asks in a gruff voice.

Jensen perks up at this. "Dating app?"

Kelly takes a long pull of beer before spitting out, "Your sister here uses dating apps to troll for hookups."

Jensen glares at me in only a way a big brother can, all disapproving and judgy. "Sutton. What the fuck? You know how dangerous that is?"

Teddy takes the opportunity to bring the conversation back around to her earlier comment.
"Well, now you're just proving my point. She wouldn't need an app if she dated within your trusted pool of friends. Take Kelly here, for instance. We're pretty sure he wouldn't skin her alive or harvest her organs or sell her into sex slavery."

Kelly waggles his eyebrows. "Just how sure of that are you, though, Chipmunk?"

Jensen points at him. "No." Then he points at Teddy. "No." Then he directs that finger at me. "No. Just no." He points at each one of us in turn again as he continues his rant. "Fuck off with that nickname, asshole. Fuck off with my sister dating, babe. Virginal nun, remember? And fuck off with the jackoffs on Tinder, sis. Be smarter than that."

Teddy pets his arm. "He skipped his nap and afternoon snack today."

We all laugh, but Jensen, who scowls at his girl.

The night follows suit as Jensen grills burgers, and we continue the friendly banter. By the time I'm in my car on the drive home, I realize I completely forgot about my plan to have Teddy convince Jensen that Yoga on the Farm is a good idea. I blame Kelly. His stupid presence distracted me. When I get home, I send him a text telling him just that.

ME: Thanks for ruining my plans tonight.

KELLY: You're welcome.

ME: Do you even know what I'm talking about?

KELLY: I rarely do, baby girl.

ME: I had a brilliant idea that I needed Teddy's help convincing my stupid brother to agree to.

KELLY: How brilliant? Because J's a pretty smart guy. If you need his girl's help, how good is the idea really?

ME: Never mind. Mind your biz.

KELLY: Pretty sure I was until a ruffled honey badger told me off.

ME: *gif of Judge Judy eyeroll*

The house is dark except for the light above the kitchen sink. I fill a glass with water and then retreat to my room, passing Vivi's closed door on my way. I exchange my work clothes for a loose tank top, my preferred sleeping attire, and I slink off to the bathroom to do my nightly skincare routine.

Once I'm under the covers in my bed, I open my phone to see a few missed texts from Kelly that came a few minutes ago.

KELLY: I'm sure the idea is great, Sutton. I was just giving you a hard time.

KELLY: *gif of sleeping dog with tongue out*

KELLY:Sleep tight, baby girl.