Chapter 7: Gardening

The sunshine spilling into the kitchen was warm on my skin as I walked in, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Mom was already there, looking casual and cool in a tank top and shorts. A hint of sweat on her shoulders hinted at an early morning workout.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she teased with a playful sparkle in her eye.

I yawned widely, stretching my arms above my head. My pajama shirt rode up, exposing a strip of my stomach, and I mumbled something incoherent in response. Mom’s gaze lingered, her eyes appreciating the little bit of skin that was on display.

She teased, “Well, I hope you’re ready for a fun day because Hazel will be here soon.”

Hearing Hazel’s name, I perked up. “Yeah, it’ll be great to see her,” I replied, pouring myself a cup of coffee. I took a cautious sip, feeling the warmth of the liquid soothe my throat.

Mom leaned against the counter, casual yet sexy. Her nipples were faintly visible through her thin top, and her long, bare legs were on display beneath her shorts. She mused with a playful tone, “You two and your gardening.”

My face warmed, suddenly self-conscious about our gardening hobby, which apparently, Mom thought was code for something else. I stammered, “It’s, uh, good to stay active.”

Mom chuckled, closing the distance between us. “That it is. And what better way to cool off than with a dip in the pool?”

The air crackled with unspoken tension as she leaned in, filling my senses with her body wash scent. “You know,” she said, “there’s nothing like a morning swim. It can be very ... invigorating.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the room grow warmer. My eyes briefly darted to her chest before meeting her gaze again. “Yeah, that sounds ... nice,” I managed to say, shifting slightly.

With a casual shrug, Mom brushed her hair behind her ear, causing her tank top to shift and reveal a glimpse of smooth skin. “Just a suggestion,” she purred, her eyes holding mine, promising unspoken delights. My heart raced as I stood there, caught in the web of her subtle flirtation.

The morning sun was a warm embrace as Hazel and I made our way to Ms. Parker’s place, armed with an array of tools for our gardening mission. I felt a buzz of anticipation as we entered the backyard, our eyes taking in the vibrant wildness that had overtaken the once-manicured garden. Ms. Parker stood there, a vision in gardening gloves and a sun hat.

“Ah, my enthusiastic crew, ready to tame the wilderness,” she said, gesturing to the overgrown flora. “Andy, your strength is needed to tackle the heftier tasks, and Hazel, your magic touch with plants will bring life back to this chaotic beauty.”

Hazel’s eyes sparkled as she took in the challenge, and I felt a rush of excitement at the idea of spending the day working alongside her. As she leaned in to inspect a stubborn weed, her hair falling like a curtain around her face, I paused, my heart pounding. The scent of fresh soil and flowers that clung to her was intoxicating.

Ms. Parker directed us with a knowing smile, her voice laced with amusement as she witnessed the subtle tension between Hazel and me. Her instructions were sprinkled with playful jabs and encouragement, adding fuel to the already electric atmosphere.

The morning flew by in a blur of activity and flirtatious banter. We plunged into the heart of the wilderness, attacking weeds and pruning wayward branches. Dirt smudged our faces, and sweat beaded on our skin, but we were oblivious, lost in the rhythm of our labor and the symphony of our laughter. I felt alive, every muscle in my body attuned to the task, and my heart raced with more than just the exertion of our work.

Ms. Parker would occasionally call out instructions or offer words of appreciation for our progress. “Andy, that bush has met its match with your determination. Hazel, the way you’ve brought life back to those flowers is nothing short of miraculous.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she took in the sight of us, grubby and glowing with the satisfaction of our efforts.

As the morning sun climbed higher, the temperature rose, but neither Hazel nor I slowed down. We were swept up in the fervor of our tasks, driven by an unspoken competition and the captivating environment we had helped create.

We paused to admire our handiwork, wiping sweat from our brows. The garden looked unrecognizable—neat rows of flowers where there had been chaos, a sense of order and beauty that hadn’t been there before.

Ms. Parker clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling with appreciation. “You two have transformed this garden into something truly ... stimulating.” She winked, and I felt my face heat up. Hazel, beside me, shifted on her feet, a rosy blush creeping up her neck.

We found refuge under the large apple tree, its shade a welcome relief from the sun’s relentless rays. Ms. Parker moved with an effortless grace as she poured lemonade into tall glasses, the ice clinking musically. She handed me a glass, her fingers brushing mine for a split second longer than necessary.