Page 6 of Pumpkins for Parker
The way he describes it, I can almost imagine the shots I could get. “That sounds amazing.”
“There’s also the old, covered bridge Martha mentioned, and a few hiking trails that lead to some hidden waterfalls.” He pauses. “I could show you around, if you want. I know all the best spots and the best times to catch the light.”
My heart does a little skip. The practical part of me knows I should probably explore on my own, without distractions. But the other part of me, the part that’s been enjoying his company way more than I should, wants to say yes.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “I’m sure you have other things to do.”
“Not really.” He gives me a look that makes my toes curl in my boots, “I’d hate for you to miss the best shots because you didn’t know where to look.”
He’s right, of course. Local knowledge is invaluable for this kind of work. That’s the only reason I’m considering it. It has nothing to do with the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or how fun it was working beside him this morning.
“When would we go?” I ask.
“Tomorrow morning? Sunrise at Lookout Rock is incredible this time of year, and the morning light on the lake is perfect for photography.”
Sunrise. That means meeting him early, spending a whole morning together, possibly being alone with him in some very romantic settings. My practical side is waving red flags, but my heart is already saying yes.
“Okay,” I say. “But I’m paying you for your time.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Parker—”
“You already paid by helping with the harvest this morning.” His tone is firm but gentle. “Besides, I want to do this.”
When was the last time someone wanted to help me just because? Not because they wanted something from me or expected something in return, but because they wanted to? Yeah, I can’t even remember.
“All right,” I say. “What time?”
“Six a.m. at The Maple Lodge B&B.”
“Great.”
He stands and extends his hand to help me up. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
His hand is warm and calloused, and when his fingers touch mine, I feel that same electric jolt from this morning. We walktoward the parking lot slowly, neither of us seeming to want to end this.
“Thank you,” I say when we reach my rental car. “For today, I mean. It was really nice.”
“Thank you for showing up and helping with the harvest. Even if you did pick more leaves than pumpkins.”
“Hey!” I laugh and playfully swat his strong arm. “I got better toward the end.”
“You did. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Vesper.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach flip. “See you tomorrow, Parker.”
I get in my car and start the engine, but I can’t help watching him in my rearview mirror as I drive away, wondering if the local legend also applies to women.
Judging by the way my body’s reacting, I’d say that it does.
Chapter Four
Parker
The streets of Maple Ridge are quiet at five-forty-five in the morning, just the way I like them. I make this drive into town from my cabin almost every day, but today, the silence feels different. Maybe because I’m heading to pick up Vesper, and something about that has my heart beating faster than it should. I told myself this is about helping her get good photos, but the town’s stupid legend keeps echoing in my head. I’ve never asked for a day off, especially not to spend time with a woman. Hell, I’ve never met a woman who makes me feel like Vesper does.
I take the winding road down from the mountain, my truck’s headlights cutting through the darkness. Living up here has always been exactly what I needed. It’s quiet, private, and away from people who ask too many questions. But this morning, as I head toward The Maple Lodge B&B, I’m thinking about how empty the cabin felt when I woke up. Like something, or someone, was missing.
