Monday Morning
The doorbell rang.
"Shit," Kate stubbed her toe on the kitchen counter while reaching for a towel to wipe down her flour covered hands in between glances at the clock.
Daryl was on the other side of the doorbell. His usual attire of faded jeans with boots and this time a blue shirt. He pulled off his shades, giving her the kind of smile that made her knees feel a little weaker as he said, "mornin' ma'am."
She might have swooned if it wasn't for the fact that, "you're early!"
"Traffic weren't too bad." He stepped up the last step, waiting for entry to her house but she wasn't sure she going to allow it. She needed more time.
She hovered in the doorway, one arm blocking him as he patiently waited with a wry smile. She could hardly turn him away even if that's what she almost did. "I suppose you better come in then," Kate decided with a little sigh as she stepped aside, gesturing him towards the kitchen as she kicked the door shut with a roll of her eyes. She followed him along the hall just in time to see his face change from a confused little smile to surprise or maybe of mild horror.
"You weren't supposed to see this part," Kate wrung her hands around the hem of her pinny, biting her lip and feeling caught out.
Daryl picked up a scone from the batch she had deemed too misshapen. Then he picked up one from the other pile, the ones she had put too much salt into. Further along were the ones with the burnt bottom which had been her first attempt when she was still feeling pretty smug about her baking. The feeling had been short lived.
"You were only supposed to see the perfect ones…" she glanced along the messy worktops where she had waged battle with flour and a rolling pin, "and the tidy kitchen."
Daryl snorted out a soft laugh before he looked to her, "they don't have to be perfect."
"Of course they do." Charlene and Irma were both the baking type that did this sort of thing almost every day so her scones had to either look good or taste good, preferably both. That's why she had spent the entire morning mixing, rolling, cutting and baking. A recipe Kate had chosen for its simplicity. She'd always meant to try harder to bake. She'd wanted to be the sort of mum that could bake at least one good thing that Harry would always remember and think, 'mum did the best scones' or 'mum's treacle tart always reminds me of bonfire night'. But she never got round to it and then it was too late.
"It ain't a competition," Daryl said.
Kate scooped some of her failures into the bin. Was he some sort of crazy man? "That's precisely what it is."
"Well yeah… but it's all in good fun."
"If there are winners and there are losers then it's not fun. It's war." She only wished she was joking but any competition from playing tic tac toe to a high school netball game got her blood racing and her adrenaline furiously pumping in a way that was not altogether healthy.
The timer Kate had set on her phone buzzed and she grabbed an oven glove to pull out her final batch, the last of the flour and any remaining patience for baking. They looked reasonable. Fuck. They would have to do. She set them on the cooling rack, one by one, lining them up, her little baked procession.
/
Even if the kitchen looked like the inside of a bag of flour and Kate was the worse damn baker he'd ever come across she was still so ridiculously cute in a pair of denim cutoffs and a polka dot apron. Barefoot, flour on the tip of her nose and her hair in a ponytail that was falling out in the unruly way it always did.
"Yer so damn competitive." Daryl gave her a gentle tap on the the behind while he inspected the fresh batch.
Yesterday when he had stepped out of Miss Uppity's house he had decided that he probably needed to play things a little cooler than his heart was telling him to. They'd only had one night but he was just about ready to clear out some space on her shelves for his things. So at the risk of not freaking Kate out he was restraining himself and the feelings that were filling him with that addictive warm, sappy, heart quickening flood he got whenever he thought about her but especially when he was with her like he was right now.
Kate poked her finger into his chest, "if you think this is bad… just never play Monopoly with me."
Daryl had never played Monopoly in his life but he'd already learned a lesson in competing with this woman.
Kate flicked the kettle on and began to pad around the kitchen, scooping up all the dirty bowls and utensils as she said the word he'd heard her announce to Lou many times, "tea?". Tea, like it was the cure all, the answer to every situation that cropped up. One of them would say it and the answer was never 'no'.
"Sure," he passed her a tray and then another one as she began to fill the dishwasher. There was something very nice about watching her do all the ordinary things; sweeping the floor, wiping down sides, making cups of tea. He took a seat at the breakfast table for a better look of it, sitting with his chin resting in his palm and watching her do everything like it was the most interesting thing in the world. To be fair, watching Kate's ass in those shorts was definitely one of the most interesting things in the world.
"I couldn't find clotted cream anywhere," she announced, disappearing into her fridge before she pulled out a tub of whipping cream, sitting it on the table in front of him. "I can't believe you don't have clotted cream over here."
"I apologise," he held up his hands. And he was sorry, he didn't want her to have a single cause to miss home.
"I suppose I might forgive you." Kate smirked, passing him a bowl and a whisk, "I was dreading doing this but since you're here… you can put your biceps to good use while I finish getting ready." She gave his arm a little squeeze and disappeared upstairs with her cup of tea.
Daryl had never whisked cream in his life. He poured the the full tub into the bowl and got started. No wonder she had happily let him do this. Jesus, he was about to work up a sweat on this damn cream. Then it occurred to him, she had asked for his manly assistance and the idea of her dainty little arms struggling to whip the cream made him smile.
Kate returned, her hair tied up a little neater and a dress type thing that she called a playsuit. Best of all was her sexy little tattoo peaking out of her sandals and reminding him that a piece of him was permanently on her body. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to play it cool when all he wanted to do was say a million different things that were the opposite of cool.
"I whipped ya cream," was the safest option.
"Let's go then," was her reply.
/
When they arrived at the Horvath's farm it wasn't what Kate had expected. There was half a town full of people filling long rows of blue tablecloth topped picnic benches and milling around the nearest field. Red white and blue bunting was gracing everything from the trees to the side of the house and as well as the never ending table of picnic food there was a smell of BBQ filling the air.
Kate clutched tight to the little gingham lined basket that she'd picked up to display her scones. She'd thought the baking competition was just going to be a fun little thing between a couple of people but from the amount of guests at this party she was starting to think she should have gone with plan B and bought something from a professional bakery.
"There's Charlene and Jim," Daryl pointed out his friends and the two waved before the couples met each other halfway.
"Hey ya'll," Charlene smiled and they stood at a somewhat awkward impasse before the red head gave her a kiss on the cheek and declared, "you made biscuits."
Kate bit her tongue. She'd already had the biscuit/cookie/scone debate once before. Admittedly, she would be the first to say that things had got a little heated and she had promised Lou to never do that again. A biscuit is a scone, a cookie is a biscuit and only cookies are called cookies. "Where do I take them?".
Charlene linked her arm into Kate's and escorted her to a table filled with all sorts of things from cupcakes to pies, cookies to something that looked like jelly? Kate realised she would have to construct her red, white and blue scones if she stood any chance. Not that she suspected she really stood a chance. But they were nicer decorated, strawberry jam for red, whipped cream for white and blueberries for blue. She sliced the scones in half and topped each half the Devon way (cream first, then jam) over the Cornish way (jam, then cream) since that was the way they rolled in the Ashwood house. Cornish or Devon, no matter which was your chosen method it was generally agreed never butter first or otherwise. Even if her offering wasn't the most elaborate on the table they looked pretty enough in the basket.
Irma wrapped her in a hug when she had finished her last half scone. "So glad you could make it and don't you look lovely, I think a little Georgia sunshine is good for you and there is nothing as nice as the fresh air of living on a farm… don't you think?"
Charlene wrapped her arm over Kate's shoulder making her the filling to this southern lady sandwich, "she's right, the sunshine is just one of the nicest things about living here. Don't you think?"
"Well yes, its very-"
Charlene began to pull her along without a care for her answer, "my friends can't wait to meet you. You're gonna fit right it around here."
The was a large group of women, overtaking one picnic bench and in a flurry of chatter. Kate noted that half of them were round with pregnancy the other half had babies on their knees. "We've had a bit of baby fever 'round here," Charlene said as if reading her thoughts.
Kate let out a strained laugh, "I hope it's not bloody contagious." From the look on Charlene's face she regretted saying that thought out loud.
"This is Daryl's girl, the one I was telling ya'll about…" Charlene encouraged her into a seat while Kate looked desperately over her shoulder for the man in question. But he was nowhere to be found.
Instead she was introduced to little Hank Jr who drooled all down her thigh. The only baby she'd ever really liked had been Harry and that really was a matter of mother nature. When Harry had turned three was when the real fun had started. No more nappies, prams, sleepless nights or toddler tantrums to contend with. They would go on adventures. He liked castles and history just like his Mummy. They would visit different sites, drawing up their own floor plan to take home and use as a blueprint to aid a day's worth of lego building. He had a rather shameful amount of Lego which all now sat packed up in the dark of a storage container in Kennington. Kate hadn't had the heart to donate all of Harry's things, some of his lego models were still intact from when his little hands had locked them together.
"I think he likes you…" the woman on her left drawled in an accent even thicker than DAryl's as chubby little Hank Jr reached out to grab a clumpful of her hair.
"Excuse me," she stood, leaving the women to discuss labour's, first birthday parties, schools and everything else that was of absolutely no interest to her. Kate didn't belong at this Mummy table anymore and she hadn't exactly belonged when she was a mother. She wasn't that kind of mumsy type.
/
"Charlene's convinced she's gonna make your girl wanna stay," Jim passed him a glass of ice tea.
Daryl didn't know whether to be horrified or pleased at this information, "she is?"
"She's on a mission, you know how she gets."
"She ain't gonna say something is she, ya know like…?"
"Like what?" Jim sipped his iced tea and let a smirk curl from his lips all the way across his face, "tell Kate she should stay cos you're plumb in love with her?"
Daryl felt his face instantly burning, "fuckin' hell." Exactly that. He craned his neck to look for Kate or Charlene's tell tale red hair but Jim grabbed his arm to stop him from moving and rescuing his woman from the kind of information that might make her bolt from this farm in her mustang faster than the time Ace had been stung by a wasp.
"Don't worry, Char ain't gonna say anything like that. Just try and coax her some that's all," he managed in between his mirthful laughter.
Even so, Daryl couldn't relax. Charlene had a big damn mouth and there was no telling what might come out of it.
"An you didn't deny it," Jim elbowed him the rib.
Daryl groaned, bullshitting Jim wasn't an option. Neither was admitting that he might have been falling for Kate. "I'm gonna find Dale," he huffed, leaving Jim who was still laughing at him.
He lit a cigarette as he strolled through the field to find the old man hiding exactly where he suspected he might be. On the bench by the stables, away from the hubbub of people that Irma loved to be in the middle of. "I was heading back in a minute, I just-" Dale began.
"Don't worry, Irma ain't lookin' yet…"
Dale smiled and took a seat back down, "I'm glad you're here, I wanted to talk to you."
Daryl's instant reaction to people wanting to talk to him was always the same wave of nerves and a sinking feeling that he was not going to like what was coming next. He threw his cigarette down and stubbed it out before taking the seat next to Dale.
"My cousin has offered to lend me and Irma his motorhome, for as long as we need it."
He let out a sigh, "that's great news." The crux of Dale's plans to take a trip with Irma relied on a motorhome so he knew how important it was that he could get one for free.
"I know," Dale smiled, but only momentarily. "I still have to think about the farm. I don't think we'll be finding a buyer, I don't even wanna sell and I certainly don't want to have to wait."
Daryl picked at a splinter of wood that was peeling from the armrest of the bench as he tried his best to avoid eye contact with Dale. Talking about selling the farm always made his stomach hurt, "what ya gonna do?"
"You said you wanted to help… how would you feel about living here? Renting the place at first so we can get by and when I'm gone, it'll be yours."
Daryl's head whipped round to stare blankly at Dale's face as he tried to process what he'd just been told.
"Me and Irma have spoke a lot about this. We don't have any children to leave it to. All our nieces and nephews have their own lives and they don't care about the place like you do. I know you could never afford to buy it but you belong here, you can make this farm what it once was."
"I just…" Daryl shook his head, "I can believe ya'll would do this…"
"When Irma… well… I wanna stay with my brother and his wife. They have plenty of room and I wouldn't wanna be here without the old girl…" he wafted a nuisance fly away with his hat, "don't tell Irma I said that."
Daryl chuckled at the name Dale had always called Irma, even 20 years ago when they had first moved here she'd been his old girl. Daryl had wanted to hate them for buying the place but Irma had made it impossible.
"You can think on it, let me know by the weekend," Dale squeezed his shoulder as he stood from the bench, bracing himself before he disappeared over the fields and back to the party while Daryl just sat there, dumbfounded and on the verge of actually fucking crying. Jesus, he hadn't shed a tear of joy in his entire life and that's what this was right? This feeling that was filling him up and wanting to spill over. The farm could be his. The horses, the land, the fort, everything he wanted. Did people get everything they wanted? It was like everything bad had been leading up to all the good shit he was getting right now. A chill ran along his spine, the weird feeling that the penny would drop and he would realise that this had been a joke or a dream.
Then there was Kate, climbing awkwardly over a fence as she made her way to him.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," she let out a little exhausted breath and slumped in the seat next to him.
"I was talkin' to Dale."
Kate sat up, studying his face for a moment before playfully pouting in the cutest little way, "I didn't win… didn't even place."
Daryl stroked his hand along the soft skin on her arm and bit back a laugh as he realised that if he had the farm and a real home, he could make a life here that he could invite Kate and her terrible baking to be a part of. "Ya don't need to win blue ribbons when ya look so goddamn pretty, wouldn't be fair on the other girls," he winked.
"Why thank you Mr Dixon," Kate grinned before kissing his cheek in a tiny little press of lips that sent a flood of warmth coursing through his veins.
"Ya wanna go for a ride?"
She laughed nervously, that familiar wide eyed look filling her face like she might say no but she said "yes."
He saddled up Peaches and Cream to give them a turn and they headed out to check over what could potentially be their new home, but he didn't tell her that. He wasn't sure if he could discuss living here without accidentally asking her to live here too and that definitely wasn't any way to play it cool. What kind of person asks someone they had known for a few weeks to live with them? Sometimes he couldn't believe the thoughts that entered his own head.
"Charlene said there would be fireworks in town later," Kate hinted with a smile and Daryl took his eyes off the trail to steal a look at her, hands clutching tight on the reins, ray bans covering her big brown eyes and her milky skin getting even more tanned with each passing date.
"I was already plannin' on takin' ya." Of course he was. He liked having a pretty date on his arm in front of all the people he had gone to school with and known his whole life. He'd already enjoyed the way people had looked at Kate when they had pulled up in her Mustang and she had stepped out with him. In particular this one asshole, Derick Marshall, he'd hated that douchebag when they were at school and he still hated that asshole now. Derick Marshall and his chain of three fucking Marshall's Convenience store's that made the whole Marshall family think they were the Kings of the entire county. Daryl felt heated just thinking about it but the once captain of the football team, who now had a tyre sitting comfortably around his waist, had quite obviously checked out Kate with her great legs and squeezable ass. So yeah, he was going to happily take his woman into town later.