The Beekeeper

by S.M. Shade

Did he leave this here? Oh god, what if it’s grave robbed body parts? Or some kind of serial killer offering?

?????? What ?? 😆

I bought some apples after I…you know…left the peaches and then once you gave them to me, I had too much fruit so I made both.” Her nervous babbling is fucking adorable.

“See you later, Peach.”

“Good god, you’re tall.” It’s amazing how often people feel the need to tell me that, like my six foot seven inch height might have escaped my notice.

She didn’t realize she was on private property and brought the cobbler as an apology. That’s all.” “She’s pretty though, isn’t she?” Lacey pursues. She’s fucking beautiful. “I suppose.”

“I try not to.” Silence ticks away long seconds. “Not as often, but yeah, I still call.” His nod holds no judgement, only understanding. “Are you still going to therapy?”

Bet who he’s calling is dead.

This is what’s fundamentally wrong with me as a person. I’m a ball of anxiety at a crowded restaurant or when the self-checkout yells at me about unexpected items, or for no reason whatsoever like today, but following a mysterious guy into a graveyard at dusk? Perfectly fine.

“Sorry, high thoughts.” He shrugs, gesturing to the surrounding forest. “What if humans signaled like birds? Imagine if people climbed trees to yell about being horny.”

Once we make it to his front yard, I pause. “I want to clarify this isn’t a ‘Hey baby, want to come back to my place?’ mating call.”

“Are you a honey addict?” I tease as he hands me a drink. “It’s from my apiary.” “You’re a beekeeper?”

“I’d be happy to introduce you if you’d like to meet the bees sometime.” Meet his bees? How can a man as physically intimidating as him be so adorable at the same time?

Not three years ago, I was working two terrible jobs and was absolutely miserable. Six months ago, I was a total recluse, hiding from two crazy psychopaths.

He isn’t creepy or dangerous. I’ve known dangerous men. He’s different, soft spoken and funny, but his smiles seem so hesitant and fade quickly.

Inspiration or obsession? Is there even a difference? If there is, I can’t measure the distance between them.

“Listen, I saw Chris Handleman’s mother post on social media that he’ll be getting released from prison soon.”

Once I get them laid behind my barn, it’s too late to chop them up. That can wait until a cooler evening anyway. My ATV is almost out of gas, and my cans are empty, so I toss them into the back of my truck then go inside to wash the sap and dirt off my hands. After putting in an online food order, I return to my truck and head to the gas station to fill up the cans.

Honestly, this book could’ve been cut down by like probably 100 pages if we didn’t have an extra amount of information at all times

“A new neighbor moved into the cabin.” The offhand way I offer that information doesn’t fool him. “Oh, now we’re getting to it. What’s she like?” “I didn’t say it was a woman.” “You didn’t have to.” “She’s…distracting.”

“Exactly. I could be your mom. Well, if I had you at fourteen.” Ethan turns around to lean against the counter, crosses his arms, and grins at her. “I’ll call you mommy if that’s what you’re into.”

“I’m wearing you down, Sil, I can feel it!” he says, disappearing into the walk-in cooler. “Those Yeager boys. He has three older brothers just like him. They’re trouble, the whole family,” Silver says, shaking her head in his direction. The little fond smile on her face argues with the sentiment, and I’m glad she isn’t serious.

“What are you checking for?” “To see if the frames are full enough to need to be replaced. This top box is called the honey super. It’s the excess that I can take from them. First, they fill the brood box below this. They won’t start working on the top one until they have enough to support the colony.”

This feels like the most filler information ever in a book— why are we going into great detail about this honestly?