WORTHY, Part 1 by Lexie Ray

living, or what his true dreams were.
    Of course, that didn’t stop him from dreaming now, in this new reality he was building for himself.
    “We’re both good at cooking,” he’d tell me. “And we can grow our own ingredients. What if we start selling baked goods and other things? When people hear that we grow the ingredients on site, they’ll be lining up …”
    “Lining up around the block? Around the woods?” I’d tease back. “We don’t need the money, Jonathan. We’re doing just fine.”
    “I’m not talking about you, moneybags,” he’d retort. “I’m talking about the fortune I’m going to make off your farm. Th is farmhand is going to turn into a mogul.”
    I followed Jonathan out the front door and through the field. He’d set up the picnicking site in the middle of the field, flattening a patch of grass to allow the blanket to rest evenly over the ground. It was an enchanting spot—wildflowers and bristly grasses lined the blanket. When I sat down, the flowers were taller than I was, obscuring my views of the cottage and the barn. It was like we were in our own private world, enjoying a relaxing meal and day.
    “Well planned,” I commended him. “Perhaps the best picnicking I’ve ever done.”
    “We’ll see once I find out what we’re eating,” Jonathan said. “Worst picnic ever if it’s sandwiches.”
    “You stop,” I warned as he began unpacking the containers of food, spreading them across the blanket. “You’ll enjoy those sandwiches or it’s back to work.”
    “These aren’t sandwiches!” he exclaimed, popping the tops off the steak salad. “Wow, this looks really good.”
    “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I asked haughtily, fanning myself. “Only the master chef. Of course it’s going to be really good.”
    We tucked into the picnic meal, with me never realizing how amazing it was to eat in the middle of the field. It honestly felt like some kind of fantasy world, especially when the wind blew. Then, the white puffs of the nearby cottonwood trees would float lazily across the field like summer snow. It was beautiful. I didn’t even mind them getting caught in my hair.
    “A fine, fine picnic,” Jonathan proclaimed, patting his belly as we shared the fruit-loaded yogurt. “Oh, you have some dessert on the side of your mouth.”
    “Where?” I asked, licking my lips. “Did I get it?”
    “It’s just there,” he said, pointing.
    “Here?” I wiped one of my cheeks.
    “I could just take care of it for you,” he offered, leaning daringly close, our lips suddenly inches apart. “Easy as pie—or yogurt.”
    I spluttered and leaned away. “I don’t think so, mister. My first kiss isn’t going to be because you’re trying to lick yogurt off of my face.”
    “You’ve never been kissed?” Jonathan asked, cocking his head at me. “How can that be possible?”
    I flushed and stared down at my hands. “Well, have you ever been kissed?”
    “Ouch,” he said, covering his heart jokingly. “You got me right here, Michelle. You know I don’t remember.”
    My blush deepened in shame. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what I was—of course you’ve been kissed before. I’m sure you have. You’re too hot not to ever have been—oh, God.”
    Jonathan laughed as I buried my face in my hands. “I love it when you get flustered,” he said. “There’s nothing cuter. Okay. I have a proposal for you.”
    “Anything to redeem my awkwardness,” I said, my voice muffled in my hands.
    “Let’s be each other’s first kisses.”
    I looked up him, not comprehending. “But it wouldn’t really be your first kiss,” I said. “You’ve had to have kissed someone before today.”
    He shrugged. “Well, I don’t remember. This can be my first kiss. It’ll be special because it’s yours, too.”
    Without further discussion, Jonathan took me by the tip of my chin and tilted my face upward, his lips meeting mine in the middle. His mouth was so