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Lucius turned down the volume on his road tripping playlist. “Stede, I Iove you like a weird older brother, but for the love of Gaga, why are we driving two hours just to buy peaches?! We’ve passed, like, a dozen fruit strands already that definitely had peaches.”
“Because, Lucius, we don’t want just any peaches. We want the best peaches. There’s no quality control at those roadside stands. You get a couple of nice pieces of fruit and the rest are subpar. I promised Roach a basket of high quality peaches, and I mean to keep that promise, even if it means I have to pick each one off the tree myself.”
“Pick each– Stede, I swear to god, if you’re taking me to one of those pick-your-own fruit places, you’re on your own. I will not be doing any of that.”
“Come on, Lucius. It’ll be an adventure. Ah, here we are.” Stede turned into the parking area for Queen Anne Orchards. “These are supposed to be the best peaches in the state. If Roach is going to make his famous cobbler, he needs the finest ingredients.”
“Mhm. And this has nothing to do with you also wanting Roach to teach you how to make a peach pie for that stupid pie baking contest.”
Stede looked at Lucius over the roof of the car as they closed their car doors. “No, Lucius. This has nothing to do with Chauncey bragging for the last month about how his wife’s lemon meringue pie wins every year,” Stede’s eyes narrowed, “and I’m definitely not looking forward to seeing his face when I beat him this year and he has to go home with his stupid second-place pie.” Stede hissed out, clenching his fists.
“Yeah, alright.” Lucius decided to drop it. “Let’s get you a basket so you can get started. The sooner you get out there, the sooner I get back to civilization.”
The front counter was being manned by a bald man whose name tag said “Pete.” Stede paid for his basket and was halfway to the door before he realized that Lucius was still standing at the counter. “Lucius, are you coming? You don’t have to pick the peaches, but maybe you could hold the basket?”
Lucius hummed and made a face. “Sorry, boss. Very not interested in that. Pete here was telling me some fascinating things about how they make bellinis here using their own fresh peach juice, and, uh, I wanna hear more about that.” He turned back to the counter to continue flirting with Pete.
“Right. Okay. I guess I’m off to the orchard. You’ll be here when I get back?”
“Yup. Sounds good. You do you, babe,” Lucius said absentmindedly, halfheartedly waving his hand without turning away from the counter.
Once in the orchard, Stede was smacked right in the face with the realization that it was going to be quite a bit of work to pick an entire basket of fresh fruit by himself. No matter. He’d made a promise to Roach, and his promise he would keep.
He had been focused on a particular peach on a particular tree, empty basket at his feet, trying to decide if it was destined for a delicious baked good - Was it ripe enough? Too ripe? When was the absolute right time to pick a perfect peach? - when a silky smooth voice that was warm like bourbon spoke from behind him.
“So, who’s winning the staring contest - you or the peach?”
Stede turned to face the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. His deep brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and he had a short salt-and-pepper beard that barely hid his mouth, the corners of which were turned up in a slight smile. His long, dark hair streaked with silver was pulled up in a messy bun, and - oh! - sleeves of tattoos graced his tawny skin. And - oh, god - Stede was just standing there staring at him.
“Uh, I think the peach might have won this round.” Stede smiled and laughed nervously. “I didn’t realize it would be so hard to figure out which peaches are ready to be picked.”
“Oh, well I know a thing or two about that. I’d be happy to help… if you’d like,” the man offered.
“Thank you. That would be lovely.” Stede held out his hand, “I’m Stede, by the way.”
The man took his hand in a firm grip, “Ed.”