"Kick back for a bit, John," Rhonda told me after I hoisted the last crate of cukes from my pickup to the table where she and I set up our stall that Saturday morning.
I grabbed two plastic chairs from the truck as well and snapped them into place under the shade of the tent above us.
The farmer's market had yet to open, so I took Rhonda at her heed and sat down.
She turned back to the table, sorting our harvest for early summer. I scanned the park first to see what crowds might be building, but when I looked back at the table, Rhonda had leaned far enough forward to give me a lovely view of her pert, sturdy thigh. She stretched again just enough flash the plain pair of white panties she wore under her light brown shorts.
Smiling lightly, I let her ease back and then looked around again to see if anyone had spotted me.
"Maybe you should just double-check to see that everything looks good," Rhonda said as the turned back to me with a cuke in her hand.
"I trust you. Just don't put anyone's eye out with that thing," I said.
"Same to you," she grinned as I realize I had tented a bit.
Rhonda, who stood about 5 feet 6 inches tall, had strawberry blonde hair that frizzed a bit, and she typically wore it in a ponytail under a blue and green bandana. She started at the farm in late May, after her semester ended. The farm is on a tax-exempt piece of land in our New England town. All 45 acres are owned by a land trust and its supporters also fund two or three jobs a summer. People can live on the land as they work the hell out of it.
Make no mistake, a lot of times it seems like our cash crop is rocks, so many I've come to believe they multiply. So all summer we worked the land, and Rhonda was already proving her ability and endurance as we began working sunup to sundown.
The farmers markets really only took two people to work, so I rotated it through the weeks to give two people the weekend off. This time, Bryce and Darlene had split for an AirBnb on the Cape while we minded the store, or tended the land, that is. Even then, once we were done unloading whatever didn't sell at the market, Rhonda's time would be her own, too.
I stepped close to her and caught that patchouli smell at the nape of her neck. Her blue tank top hung a little loose, showing me glimpses of the red and blue sports bra under it, maybe holding c-cups. I made sure to step around her space at the stand, though, and sure enough, my trust was rewarded by her set-up work.
We worked the day in small shifts, mostly, the three hours was profitable but not overwhelming, and really, I was ready to call it a week well before we packed it up for the day.
"I know it's not the Cape, but there's plenty to wander if you haven't had a chance to get out yet," I said to Rhonda as we drove the 15 miles back to the farm. She had shed the apron and I could enjoy her athletic legs with just a sideward glance.
"I heard the trust has some running trails, I want to see more of the river, too," she answered, gazing out the window at a patch of piney woods.
"Well, it was no easy week, but everyone did great," I said. "That was a terrific set up for the cukes and corn today and we're almost out of garlic for now."
Actually, I felt goofy talking farm (or shop) was the truck jounced its way back to the farm, but something about Rhonda stirred a giddy eagerness that seemed to choke all reasoned and intelligent thoughts from my head as I tried to talk to her.
When we backed up next to the barn, Rhonda bounded out as my chocolate Lab, Buster, trotted over to the truck. She was still scritching his back and neck when I told her I'd take care of the rest and the day was hers.
"Cool, thanks, John," she said, never straightening out from petting Buster. At length she let him go and ambled off to the cabin they shared. I went on to tend to the end of the week business, including settling up bills with some of the sales from the market and updating our website and blog. Run a business long enough and you learn you have to do a lot of stuff that isn't why you wanted to go into business.
About 90 minutes later I looked up from my laptop and saw Rhonda emerge from the cabin in blazing orange yoga shorts that dropped midway to her knees. Her gray tank top dropped to just below the hem of the shorts, giving me an exquisite view of her tight and taut frame. Her hair, which actually turned a bit gold in the sunshine, was still pulled back in a frizzy ponytail.
She stretched into a warmup, pulling up on her left leg, the right. I was mesmerized and then entranced as trotted in place with just enough jiggle to make me wonder what she was like when she really got worked up. Without a gaze toward my house, Rhonda broke into a small trot and veered right for a wooded trail just beyond the cornfield. I watched her stride lengthen and went back to my work.
I had come out for a break about 30 minutes later and was looking over the tomato plants when I hear the gravel scrape a bit and knew she was coming back from her run. I turned to watch her, and almost looked away when she lifted her tank top in a deft motion to show off her sports bra I'd snuck a glimpse of earlier.
"Shit, it gets hot out here in the country," she said. "What, you don't take weekends off? You tell me about this great spot on the river and you don't want to be my tour guide? I know Buster could show me, but you need a break, too."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Of course. We're adults here. I think," Rhonda answered with a smile that spread her lips warmly and flashed her upper teeth. "I think you need to unwind a bit. I have something I can change into, so grab your suit or just leave those shorts on."
I felt the soft but insistent tug on my left hand and my knees got a bit wobbly. It was just a quick brush as Rhonda made for the cabin, making sure I saw all of her as she walked away.
I pretty much always jumped in the river nude but knew the cut offs and boxers I was wearing would be fine given how much I was already seeing of Rhonda. I was almost disappointed when she came out in a white sundress dappled with daisies, but it flowed over her so well I found myself quickly staring at her again and I knew I'd walk over broken glass barefoot all the way to the river to see what she had on under it.
