toss one aside with a little too much force. “Worms!” she’d exclaim and before long they were both throwing perfectly good apples and cutting up.
Katie had nearly filled her first basket when she heard the rumble of an engine. Scrubbing her hand across her mouth, she turned to see Billy Marquart and another Englischer boy on an ATV. The small vehicle’s bed was piled high with tools—a chainsaw, bags of mulch, some kind of sprayer, and two shovels. The boys were clad in work clothes, their shirts emblazoned with the orchard’s logo.
Billy shut down the engine. “Now, ain’t that a sight for sore eyes. Two pretty little Amish girls, picking apples.”
Katie’s interaction with non-Amish was limited; her parents were firm believers in the tenet of separation. But Painters Mill was a small town, and she’d seen Billy around in places where the two cultures intersected. The feed store. The horse auction. In town. He was a year or so older and good-looking, with black hair and brown eyes. But he was also a known druvvel-machah —troublemaker—with a smart mouth that, according to Jacob, he “ran a little too often.”
Billy and Mattie had had some kind of run-in at the auction in Millersburg a couple of weeks ago while Mattie was working at the concession stand. Billy had ordered hot chocolate, but accused Mattie of spitting in it. She denied it, but the owner, a Mennonite guy by the name of Zook, hadn’t believed her and fired her on the spot.
Mattie slanted Billy a smile. “Look what the wind blew in,” she said. “A piece of trash.”
Billy’s grin widened. “You’re not still mad about that stupid concession job, are you, Matts?”
“I don’t like liars,” she said sweetly.
“Takes one to know one,” he returned. “But hey, if I’d known you wanted to swap spit, we could have found a better way than you spitting in my frickin’ hot chocolate.”
Turning her back to him, Mattie picked an apple and held it out for Katie to see. “Oh, look, a rotten apple.” She tossed the apple over her shoulder, and it struck Billy’s leg.
Sighing, he turned his attention to Katie. “Nice lipstick.”
Self-consciously, Katie reached up and touched her lips, her eyes flicking to Mattie. Her friend looked back at her and chuckled. “Just a little smear,” Mattie whispered.
Katie wiped her mouth with her sleeve, her face heating in embarrassment.
The second boy said something beneath his breath and the two broke into laughter.
“Don’t pay any attention to my friend Gavin.” Billy smiled appreciatively at Mattie, his eyes bold as they skimmed over her body. “So what are you girls doing here, anyway?”
“Um, picking apples?” Mattie replied, adding a generous dollop of smart-ass to her voice.
“I reckon you’re not going to let me off the hook until I apologize, are you?” he asked, trying to charm her.
Turning away, Mattie resumed picking apples. “I don’t really care.”
Billy addressed his friend without taking his eyes off of Mattie. “Hey, Gav, why don’t you head down to the other end and get started on that branch? I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“You got it, Bill.”
Gavin climbed onto the ATV and started the engine. Giving the two girls a mock salute, he put the vehicle in gear and roared away.
When he was out of sight, Billy crossed to the girls, his focus riveted on Mattie. Katie didn’t mind. She didn’t like being the center of attention. And she didn’t much care for the likes of Billy Marquart. He might be attractive, but he was also coarse and foul-mouthed, and she was relieved she wasn’t the object of his affection.
“So, are you going to forgive me or what?” he cooed.
Mattie didn’t even look at him. “Why would I do such a thing?”
Billy rolled his eyes in a self-deprecating way that might’ve been charming if it hadn’t been so rehearsed. “Because I’m irresistible?”
Now it was Mattie’s turn to laugh. “If I had a
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