Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Just watching it makes my skin itch.
It’s not a quick process, either.
After she’s dislodged the bees with lots of patience, coaxing, and promises—yes, she reminds them constantly she’s their best damn friend—Winnie puts the frame in a clear bag.
Repeat for another nine frames caked with honey, and finally, she’s on her way back.
A few bees still cling to her stubbornly.
Not necessarily to attack, I think, though I wouldn’t put that past them. More like raw curiosity, I guess.
That makes two of us.
The bugs must be as baffled as I am over this bright, sexy woman invading their space.
“My bad. I wore the wrong perfume today,” she explains once she’s next to us again.
“Wrong perfume?” I know as soon as I’ve asked it’s a dangerous question.
I caught a whiff of it when she invited us in, and even in that big white space suit, she smells wonderful. Floral and succulent with a hint of cinnamon-like heat underneath for just the right sizzle.
Damnably enticing.
Damnably annoying that she has to remind me.
“It attracts the bees. Certain scents do,” she says matter-of-factly. “No big deal except I don’t need a load of them following me around.”
Colt ducks back as a bee flies in front of my face. I have to grit my teeth to step back gracefully and not swat it out of midair.
I’m not scared of them, no, but who likes bugs hovering around their face?
Only, as I look at Winnie wearing the widest smile I’ve seen, I have my answer.
“Off you go, guys. Head back home,” she coos to the bees clinging to her. “Okay, perfect. Let’s go. The extractor is in the shed and I’ve already set it up. We can finish up there.”
Colt holds the door open for her and we head inside, shutting out the rest of the bees. With all three of us in here, the space feels cramped.
I’m surprised to see she wasn’t kidding about setting things up. It looks like a miniature lab in here with a small foldout card table and equipment I’ve never seen.
I lean against the wall, my arms folded. This industrial-grade honey harvesting was not what I had in mind when I came over.
She eyes me like she knows I’m scolding her behind my withering gaze, but all she says is, “Wow, three’s company in here for sure. Can I get a little space, guys? I just need to get out of this gear.”
I nod pointedly at the wall crammed up behind me, and she rolls her eyes, tugging off the helmet and shaking out her hair.
“Okay, I get it. Just think small.”
Think small? Who the hell does she think she is?
But before I can say anything, I get another whiff of her smell, this time from her hair. I close my mouth before anything stupid comes out.
“So next we need to uncap the honey to collect it,” she says, standing next to a metal trough. Beside it, there’s a gleaming chrome drum with one half of its lid open. “Do you want to try this, Colt? Careful, it’s hot.”
“Sure!” He takes the knife Winnie gives him and slices down the frames on both sides, which peels the honey off surprisingly neatly. He’s intently focused on keeping his hand steady, biting the inside of his cheek.
That’s the boy I’m used to, a workhorse with a genuine interest in solving problems, always fascinated by the world around him and willing to learn more.
Not the little shit who sneaks out behind my back to dick around with fireworks.
This Colton Rory will always make me proud.
Winnie shoots me a glance like she knows what I’m thinking—hell, maybe it’s written on my face—but she accepts the frames as Colt finishes them, putting them neatly in the extractor.
“Okay! Now we extract the honey. Easy-peasy.” She makes sure everything’s in place and closes the lid. Almost immediately, the machine whirs, and she nods with approval. “This is a nice newer model.”
“Sure,” I agree.
I guess my crew must’ve thought of grabbing some honey for themselves. I didn’t even know this stuff was in here.
“Now we just need a jar. Anything like that around?”
“Yeah! I bet we can find something in the kitchen.” Colt grins at her.
Winnie sends another quick look at my folded arms. The smile that flashes across her face is small and knowing.
“Let’s wrap this up. Better to get your dad out of here before he bursts a blood vessel or something from all this fun.”
This time, Colt laughs with glee. It’s almost worth being the butt of her dumb jokes to see that expression on his face again.
On the way back to the house, Winnie showers us with more bee wisdom. There’s no end to her facts, it seems, and half the stuff washes over me.
Somehow, Colt soaks it in. There’s something almost endearing about how animated she gets over them.