Page 30 of There's Pumpkin About You
He turns to me. “These are just spur of the moment ideas?”
I nod but don’t respond. Adam used to hear my impulsive ideas and shut them down as soon as I had them. I don’t think I was willing to admit how much it bummed me out back then, but now I can admit (at least to myself) that I would hate it if that started happening again.
The sun tears its way through each strand of Gus’s hair making it look about three shades lighter. It brightens up his face and adds to the appeal of those chiseled good looks.
Or, maybe that’s just due to the lack of a frown.
“Those are good ideas,” he says with a shrug before continuing his observations.
My eyes widen. “You really think so?”
“They’re well thought out for such impulsive ideas. You’re thinking about reducing waste, safety and ways of getting the name out there without breaking the bank.”
Pride swells within me, almost breaking my rib cage, and I nearly let it.
“Well, thanks.” I beam, a goofy smile taking over my entire face.
For the next ten minutes, I follow Gus down the first row of pumpkins, intently watching him as he assesses each one. Without me even asking, he explains to me what it is he’s checking for and what it means, and it’s the first time I see it—passion. For once I can clearly see that this is something that Gus is genuinely interested in and enjoys talking about. I can see it in the way his eyes light up even when the sun isn’t hitting them; the way his hands move animatedly as he points to various parts of the pumpkins and explains how you can tell if it is in good condition or not.
It pulls a smile from me, one that Gus doesn’t see, even though I don’t bother to hide it.
ChapterFourteen
WREN
“So, how exactly does the harvesting process work?” I ask once we’re more than halfway through the first patch. My feet are aching in these heels and I’m starting to shiver as the cold penetrates both my turtleneck and my jacket, but I keep that to myself, especially since Gus is walking around in nothing more than his usual t-shirt, plaid shirt, jeans and work boots combo. He’s decided to give his arm a short break from the sling, letting his shoulder relax in its natural position.
He was right when he said I was making baseless assumptions when it comes to his ability to carry out selfless deeds. He’s found a way for the barn to be finished on time after all, and even though he hasn’t said so, I’m pretty sure he did that for me. I’ve been so wrapped up in my frustrations towards him that I unfairly struggle to think of him doing something for someone else.
It’s beyond admirable that Gus would have gone to such lengths to save someone or something so innocent, so young. I can’t imagine how scared that puppy must have felt: lost, alone and in danger. Thank God Gus was there to help it.
Gus clips his arm back into its sling, wincing as he does so. “It’s a slow process,” he says. “You literally have to go down the rows one at a time and cut the vines off of the pumpkins before placing them onto the sled. My hope is that the time will be shortened at least a little since I’ve done this check the day before.”
“And you have three fields to do?”
He grunts in confirmation.
“How long does it take you to do all three fields?”
“We’ll usually find ourselves harvesting throughout the whole month.”
I blow out a breath. “Wow.”
“It used to be a lot less time. Once upon a time we had at least twenty farmhands here to help out. Now it’s just Bash and myself. Sam helps when he can.”
“What happened to all the workmen?”
Gus’s expression darkens, his usual frown slipping back into place. “Money dries up and you have to make sacrifices. It’s the shitty side of running a business.”
“You couldn’t keep any of them?”
His jaw starts to work, moving from side to side. “For a while we managed to keep five of them.”
“Then what happened?” I know it’s probably none of my business, but seeing the way the topic affects him makes me ache to know more and I struggle to stop the questions from flying out of my mouth.
He lifts his head and when I see his face, I’m taken aback. Unshed tears swim across his eyes, his previous passionate twinkle now replaced by the shimmer of water meeting light. The tension in his jaw makes me worry for his teeth and the way he’s clenching his hand cannot be beneficial for healing bones.
His eyes glue themselves to mine as he says in a low voice, “Then my dad stole all the money we had and I let everyone go.”
