Page 10 of Pumpkins for Parker
“Thank you. Your store is beautiful.”
“Oh, honey, you’re as sweet as pie.” She looks between Parker and me. “So what brings you two in together today? Planning something special?”
Parker clears his throat. “We need supplies for outdoor cooking. Vesper wants to do a photo shoot.”
“A photo shoot with our Parker?” Joy’s eyes light up. “Well, isn’t that something! You know, Parker’s one of the best outdoorsmen in these mountains. If anyone can show you authentic wilderness living, it’s him.”
I smile. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”
“You picked the right man for the job,” Joy says with a wink. “Parker’s been taking care of himself up in that cabin for years. Grows his own vegetables, hunts, fishes, cooks everything overan open fire when the mood strikes him. And the Jacksons always praise him for his work at Jackson’s Orchard.”
A couple of other customers wander in, and I notice them glancing our way with curious expressions. Wow. Word travels fast in small towns.
“What do you need for this photo shoot?” Joy asks, leading us toward the food section.
“Basic ingredients,” Parker says. “Something I can cook over the fire that’ll look good for the camera.”
As we walk through the aisles, I’m charmed by the eclectic mix of items—canned goods placed next to handmade quilts, and fishing lures near locally made soaps. A bulletin board by the register is covered in flyers.
“How about a nice steak?” Joy suggests. “And some fresh vegetables for roasting?”
We’re gathering ingredients when the door chimes and two men in their thirties walk in, clearly locals.
“Hey, Parker,” one of them calls out before his gaze lands on me.
Parker tenses beside me, and his hand moves to rest on my lower back. It’s a small but possessive gesture that sends heat shooting through me.
“Jake, Tommy,” he acknowledges with a nod.
“This the photographer?” The one called Jake looks me up and down appreciatively. “I’m Jake Morrison. If you need any other locals to photograph, I’d be happy to volunteer.”
The flirtation in his tone is obvious, and Parker’s hand presses more firmly against my back.
“Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need,” I say politely.
“Come on now, Jake,” Joy interjects with a smile. “Can’t you see these two are busy? Besides,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “you know what they say about Maple Ridge in the fall…”
“That when the leaves fall in Maple Ridge, the mountain men fall too,” Tommy finishes with a grin, giving me a wink.
Parker’s jaw tightens, and possessive energy radiates off him. He quickly gathers everything we need and pays Joy before I can so much as blink.
What was that all about? The weight of his hand on my back, possessive and protective, like he wanted everyone to know I’m his.
My stomach somersaults at the idea. I can hardly breathe the entire drive to Parker’s cabin because I realize that nothing about this is professional anymore. I want more. I want… him.
“Here we are,” Parker says, pulling into a gravel driveway.
His cabin takes my breath away. It’s not some rustic shack. It’s a beautiful log home nestled among tall pines, with a wraparound porch and large windows that must offer incredible views.
“Parker, this is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” He grabs our bags from the store, and I follow him up the porch steps. “I built most of it myself.”
Of course he did. Is there anything this man can’t do?
“The light out back will be perfect for photos,” he says, setting the groceries on a rustic wooden table. “And the fire pit is already set up.”
I nod, pulling out my camera, but I’m distracted by how domestic this feels. Like we’re a couple planning dinner together instead of a photographer and her subject.
