Page 17 of Sweet Surprises

“I stopped because it’s only one lane,” he explained. “Normally, we tap the horn, but it’s still early and the Johnsons don’t work anymore.”

He was indicating a small brick house on the right.

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed. Clearly, the man didn’t consider himself a tour guide.

“We can stop on the way back though,” he told her. “You’ve never seen a covered bridge before?”

“Well, my mom had a calendar of country scenes,” she said, trying to recover her dignity. “So I’ve seen photos.”

He nodded and his eyes were on the road again, but she was pretty sure the corner of his mouth was tugging up slightly. She turned away and looked out her own window, deciding to take a moment to enjoy the rural scenery again.

The world grew wilder and more overgrown as they got further north of the town. She could hardly imagine how it would look when the leaves were on the trees. Even now, their bare branches met overhead, casting long fingers of shadow in the early morning light. The whole road would feel like some kind of tunnel when the leaves came back.

“Almost there,” Tag said suddenly, his deep voice breaking the silence.

Ahead of them, acres of snowy fields rolled out beyond a split rail fence. Tag turned on his signal and they pulled between stone pillars under an old wooden sign that saidLawrenceDairy. More huge trees lined the drive, their bare branches silvery and beautiful against the pale pink light of dawn.

“Oh, wow,” Charlotte murmured.

“It’s nicer in fall,” Tag said. “Those are red oaks.”

She nodded, even though she wasn’t entirely sure of the difference between red oaks and any other kind of oaks. Or even the difference between oaks and maples, for that matter. There was definitely something about leaf shapes that gave it away. She was going to have to brush up. It seemed like trees and animals were very important around here, at least if the street names had anything to say about it.

As they made their way down the lane of red oaks, she spotted a big red barn on the left, with fields in front of it, and more land stretching all the way up the snowy hillside beyond.

To the right, more open land went all the way to the trees on the hill. A pair of beautiful Victorian houses were situated in the shelter of the hillside.

Straight ahead, a stone farmhouse greeted them like something out of a storybook. From the red-painted front door to the smoke swirling out of the chimney, the house felt like it had been conjured by her imagination to fit the cozy setting perfectly.

As they drove in a little further, another ornate Victorian beyond the farmhouse came into better view. It was painted in shades of green, and somehow looked just as at home on the farm as the first house, even though it probably should have felt a little imposing.

“That’s my parents’ house,” Tag said. She assumed he was talking about the big Victorian, but he surprised her by gesturing to the cozy farmhouse instead. “My brothers live in the houses on the right. And the green one back there is mine.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing could have shocked her more than hearing that Tag lived in the most fanciful house on the property.

“My wife wanted it green,” he said, his gaze fixed on the house.

Is Tag the widower?she wondered suddenly.

She knew that one of the brothers was, but Allie had so many that Charlotte had a hard time keeping track of which was which. It would be easier once she had met all four of them in person.

“It’s beautiful,” she told him honestly.

“She used to say nothing could be as beautiful as the hillside,” Tag said. “So the best we could do was blend in.”

Charlotte nodded. It was the most he had said all at once since they met, and there was a note of sadness in his voice she hadn’t heard before.

She felt a pang of sorrow for him, and suddenly felt terrible for writing him off as a grump. Probably anyone who lost a spouse so young would be unhappy.

“Okay,” he said crisply, pulling his truck up in a gravel lot off the circular drive, near the stone farmhouse with the red door.

She bent to grab her bag, and when she straightened, Tag was opening her door.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said.

He offered her his hand, and she almost refused. But the truck was up pretty high, and there was still some ice on the gravel. And honestly, it seemed fun to be handed down like a princess in a fairytale, even if she was in a truck instead of a horse drawn carriage.

She placed her hand in his palm, and a bolt of awareness went through her as his big, warm hand closed around hers.

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