The next morning, I drove through the country, following the directions my aunt had written down.

Apparently, the Monroe family's farm was over three generations old and as recognized as any small town tourist attraction. "It's a beautiful clapboard house with several barns scattered nearby. You can't miss it," she'd said this morning after breakfast. But as far as I could tell, that described nearly every property I'd passed.

Foothills of the Appalachians rolled gently alongside me, amber waves of grain as far as the eye could see. If nothing else, Lakeside was beautiful, even if it was in the middle of friggin' nowhere.

Finally, the farmhouse came into view. Alright, so maybe it was more impressive than most. A stately white, two-story structure with an enormous wraparound porch stretched out before me, complete with the picturesque hanging swing in the front. Two slight figures sat on the steps side by side as I pulled into the winding drive, their eyes fastened to me and my ancient blue truck. One female, who I imagined to be Maggie Monroe, looked vaguely familiar. I'd met her several times when I'd come to Georgia as a child. I don't think she'd aged a bit since the last time I'd seen her. But the much younger girl sitting next to her I'd never seen before in my life. I know, because I wouldn't forget a face like that, no matter her age.

My truck slowed to a crawl. "Mornin', ladies," I called out the unrolled window. "Am I going the right way?"

Mrs. Monroe smiled and stood up, smoothing out the front of her summer dress. "You sure are. Is that you, Jake Grady?"

I tipped the brim of my hat. "Yes, ma'am, it is."

"Well, I'll be." Her smile grew wider, lighting up her eyes. She had one of the friendliest faces I think I'd ever seen. I knew right then, I was going to like her. "You might not remember me, but I'm Maggie Monroe. Henry's expecting you. Why don't pull around back and park near the big red barn. He should be out there somewhere."

I nodded and gave her a smile, letting my eyes slide to the petite female still sitting on the step. She was a tiny thing, wearing a flowy blue sundress, her long, sun-kissed brown hair pulled high into a ponytail. Fourteen, maybe fifteen-years-old? I looked a little closer.

Oh, hell no.

The gentle curve of cleavage peeked out from a delicate neckline and the long tanned legs folded off to one side told me she was much older than I'd first thought. The girl stared at me, her back rigid and hands folded tight in her lap. Whoever she was, I'd obviously taken her by surprise. Our eyes locked and I could see her suck in a breath, causing her chest to rise.

Alright. Definitely not fifteen.

My lips twitched slightly as I nodded in her direction. But instead of nodding back, she broke our connection, her eyes dropping to her lap. I blinked. Once. Twice. Hard. Did she seriously just dismiss me? That wasn't the kind of reception I was used to getting. Especially from a female.

Maggie watched me watching the girl. Her gaze fell to her younger companion, the smile on her face somehow spreading wider. Then she turned back to me with a knowing look in her eyes. "Lunch is at noon, ya hear? Make sure you're good and hungry."

It took a great deal of effort on my part to turn away from the brunette, but finally I managed. "Yes, ma'am." I tipped my hat again as my truck began to shift down the path. From the rear view mirror, I glanced at the figure on the step. She watched me depart, a bewildered expression taking over her face.

Whoever she was — a granddaughter, maybe? — I sure hoped to run into her again. Something about her intrigued me. And believe it or not, that didn't happen often.

* * * * *

Henry Monroe was a tall, strapping man, who looked much younger than I imagined he actually was. Standing well over six feet with broad shoulders and a deep suntanned face, he immediately grasped my hand when I hopped out of the truck.

"Jake Grady. Now would ya get a look at you." His handshake was firm and he looked me right in the eye. "How old are you now, son?"

"Just turned twenty-one, sir." My gaze swept over the sprawling property. "This is quite a farm you have here. How many acres?"

"Fifteen hundred," he answered proudly. "John tells me you've worked in the fields before."

I nodded and bit the inside of my cheek. Uncle John had said he'd mentioned my work experience, but I got the distinct impression he'd let his friend believe I had a little more than I actually did. The small ranch I helped out on the summer after high school was no where near the size of this one.

"I sure did. I tended the livestock, cultivated soil, sprayed for weed control, picked the crops and loaded them onto the trucks." I removed my hat and pushed a hand through my hair, shifting the stray strands away from my forehead. "I did everything the farmer asked. So whatever you need, Mr. Monroe, you just say the word."

The older man smiled, deep creases appearing around the corner of his eyes. "Good. Very good. A go-getter. That's what I like to hear. But I think the first thing I'll have you do is stop calling me Mr. Monroe. The name's Henry. Got it?"

I nodded and slid the worn-leather hat back on my head. "Yes, sir."

Henry let out a deep laugh. "Well, I can see your mama raised you to respect your elders. I like that, Jake." He cupped a calloused hand to my shoulder. "The world could use a little more polite, doncha think?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

Henry laughed again and steered me toward the barn. "Let me give you the grand tour before we get to work."

About an hour later I was manning a small garden just off the side of the house while the more experienced farmhands assisted Henry in the fields. I wasn't sure if it was because they were taking it easy on me my first day, or if the Monroe's didn't actually need the extra help and were just keeping me busy as a favor to my aunt and uncle. Either way, it felt good to slave away under the hot Georgia sun. Cleansing. Releasing the bad and making room for the good. Beads of sweat dripped from my forehead and slid down by face, while more rolled down the center of my back. I tossed my hat to the ground, then pulled my T-shirt over my head and wiped it along my hairline. Tucking it into the back waistband of my jeans, I picked up my hat and settled it back into place.

With the digging fork in hand, I returned to loosening the compacted soil, careful not to uproot the plants that were starting to grow.

"Hey there," a soft female voice called out. I looked up and my gaze collided with the girl from before. "You need a drink?"

The thin material of her sundress billowed around her thighs as she walked, drawing my attention to her legs. Again. I felt my lips curl into a slow smile. "Well, I don't know. What'd you have in mind?" I asked, adding an extra touch of Texas twang when I spoke.

I leaned against my digging fork, self-control and better judgement suddenly deserting me. My eyes drank her in, and I couldn't help but feel amused by the obvious discomfort my lingering gaze was causing. Frustration marked her features, crinkling the skin between her brows.

This girl was more than pretty. Caramel-colored hair pulled back from a heart-shaped face and the most expressive eyes I'd ever seen in my life. Her full, pink lips pursed together in annoyance, but all I could think of was her mouth and what I'd like to do —

"This," she retorted, shoving a tall glass toward me.

Our fingertips brushed together as I took the drink from her hand and she quickly pulled hers away. An unexpected electric sensation raced up my arm, momentarily stunning me. I opened my mouth to say something clever but then closed it again, the words dying before I could push them out. Like a total idiot, all I could do was stare.

Hypnotic gray eyes flicked to the ground before meeting mine, and her fingers nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "My name's Addison Monroe," she said, slightly breathless, "but everyone calls me Addy."

A very pretty name for a very pretty girl. I resisted the urge to say that out loud, knowing it would sound cheesy as hell, so I just kept my mouth shut.

Behind thick, black lashes, I saw her checking me out. Her gaze swept down my bare chest straight to my boots, then returned to my face in a matter of mere seconds. Our eyes met again and her cheeks flushed several shades darker. Something funny fluttered in the pit of my stomach, a feeling I hadn't experienced in years. I inhaled slowly, trying to calm the sensation.

"It's very nice to meet you ... Addison," I said, slightly emphasizing her name. No way could I call this girl Addy, especially since she'd asked. For some crazy reason, I felt the need to give her a hard time. Not exactly sure why, come to think of it. Maybe to distract myself from the strange sense of nervousness that had suddenly rolled over me. What the hell was going on? "Thank you kindly for the drink."

At a loss for something more to say, I downed the pale liquid and handed her back the empty glass. Addison studied me closely, her mouth slightly agape. I had this intense urge to lean forward and kiss her. But not wanting to get slapped, I gave her a smile instead, her eyes widening just a fraction. I had no idea what she was thinking, but her awkward demeanor was pretty damn adorable.

Tipping the brim of my hat, I turned around, feeling that dove-gray gaze sear into my back as I walked away. 

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Hello, Wattpad friends! I hope you're enjoying the bonus chapters of Strawberry Wine told from Jake's point of view! If you are, please hit that star and let me know what you think. I tried to get another chapter out as quickly as I could since many of you sent me sweet messages telling me how much you appreciated the last one. Thank you so much for reading! :)