Page 12 of No Bed Of Roses

He’d have to get into the soil and aerate it soon. Probably a few times, as it appeared to have been a couple of decades since the earth had grown anything but native grasses and weeds.

Levi had to admit he was getting more intrigued by the minute. Growing hops. Having a brewery on the property. Working with his team in a venture that didn’t involve rifles or innocent kids being blown up. Or a teammate losing a foot. Or losing their K-9 officer.

Maybe Vermont wouldn’t be so bad.

“Oz? You out there?”

Levi sighed at Epic’s voice, yelling out his call sign. That was a definite downside to his staying in Vermont. Troy appeared in the doorway and grinned. “Already hard at work. Glad you made the right decision.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “I haven’t decided a damn thing yet.” Except he probably had.

Troy laughed. “Right. That’s what they all say. I came out to see if you needed some help. Piper’s watching the store for me.”

That made Levi grin. “Can’t believe you and Falcon are both madly in love.”

Troy grinned back, not in the least thrown off his game by Levi’s words. “Piper’s amazing. Never thought I’d find a person who just fit me.”

Okay, that didn’t sound so bad at all.

Troy looked around the barn. “What do you think?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say. I haven’t looked through much. Not that I know anything about growing hops.”

Troy laughed. “But some of the equipment has to be the same. This place came with some old machines. Is any of that of use to you?”

“Let’s find out.”

An hour later, they’d sorted through the items left in the barn. An older tractor had a rototiller attachment, and a newer disc harrow attachment. Levi would have to find out how deep to till to best accommodate the hops. The fertilizer spreader attachment had seen better days, but it looked fixable. Same with an older baler, but he wasn’t sure if hops needed to be baled and if this machine was the kind he would need.

There was also an ATV and tons of hand tools you would find in any barn or workshop from the last hundred years. It was a good place.

While the equipment and space were dusty, it had all been well cared for. The evidence showed him the people had cared for the land. He just wished he could meet them, talk to them.

Would they be traditionalists like his parents—like him—and be worried about convincing the land to try something new? What had worked well on the land? What had been a mess?

He wanted to know what the old farts said about growing seasons because they always knew what worked best. He needed the wisdom of the generations who had lived and worked the land.

But he couldn’t deny the entire prospect intrigued him.

He’d given the dog his sandwich, so they headed up to the house at lunchtime. Sean and Branna were in the kitchen. The smell of fresh paint competed with fresh dough and marinara sauce.

“Pizza?”

Sean grinned at them. “We’re testing out some recipes for the Saloon. You’re lucky we made enough.”

Levi smiled. “Willing guinea pig, right here.”

“Thought you made yourself lunch this morning?”

He nodded. “Found a stray dog who gobbled it up.”

Jabba, the massive rescue dog that had adopted Sean while he’d been traveling the country, lifted his head and barked.

Levi squatted down and patted the enormous head. “It’s okay. Isla is finding out if there’s a vet nearby. She’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Isla?” Three voices spoke at once and he sighed. He’d heard small-town gossip was legendary, but he was pretty sure it had nothing on military gossip. Anyone in the teams wanted to know everything about everyone else.

“Isla Duggan. She owns the land to the north.” He ruffled the dog’s fur, thinking that was all they needed to know.

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