Page 11 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
“Great!” His smile returns full force. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ve got to finish setting up for a corporate team-building thing we’re hosting this weekend. But I’m around if you need anything—supplies, snacks, more scones, whatever; just shout. Rowan is usually glued to his laptop until noon, but I’m in and out, and so is Liam.”
I set my bag on the desk and pull out my laptop. “Thanks, Theo. I… really appreciate it. All of it.”
Left alone, I set up my laptop and organize my notes. The task ahead is substantial but straightforward: evaluate their online presence, develop a content strategy, create a posting schedule, and generate content immediately. The farm opens to the public in less than two weeks, so I must build momentum now.
I lose myself in the work, and by mid-morning, I’ve drafted a content calendar and style guide. Stretching, I decide to take a walk around the property to shoot some photos for upcoming posts. The morning has transformed into a clear day, perfect for photography. I grab my phone—not the professional camera I once owned and sold for emergency money, but good enough for social media content—and head outside.
The farm is more active now than when I arrived yesterday. Several workers are checking vines and culling damaged fruit in the pumpkin fields. Others are constructing the stand and mazeand assembling other elements. I keep my distance, shooting wide landscape shots and close-ups of pumpkins.
I’m crouching to capture a particularly photogenic row of pumpkins when I hear the now-familiar bleating. Turning, I see Maple trotting toward me, her white coat bright in the sunlight.
“Hello again, troublemaker,” I say as she reaches me, butting her head against my hip hard enough that I have to brace myself to avoid toppling over. “Persistent, aren’t you?”
She bleats as if in agreement, then stands beside me, watching expectantly.
“I don’t have any treats for you,” I tell her, but I can’t resist stroking her head. Her fur is slightly bristled but soft, and she leans into my touch with such obvious pleasure that I find myself smiling.
“She found you again.”
The deep voice startles me, and I straighten quickly to find Liam standing a few yards away. His flannel shirt today is a faded blue that matches his eyes. There’s a smudge of dirt on his jaw, and his dark hair is mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it.
“Yes, although she still hasn’t apologized for yesterday,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
He nods, studying the goat with a thoughtful expression. “She usually isn’t friendly with outsiders.” His eyes shift to me, that same curious look from yesterday returning. “But she seems to have decided you’re worth knowing.”
Something about the way he says it makes my pulse quicken.
I break eye contact, focusing on Maple instead. “Is she supposed to be out? I don’t want to keep her from where she should be.”
“She has opinions about where sheshouldbe,” Liam says, hinting at something almost like humor in his voice.“Technically, she should be in the pen with the other goats, but she’s special.”
He doesn’t move to take her, just watches as she continues to press against my leg like a cat seeking attention.
“She can stay with me if it’s not a problem,” I offer. “I’m just taking photos for the socials.”
Liam seems surprised by my suggestion. “You sure? She can be a nuisance.”
I blush slightly. “Well, it can’t be worse than yesterday. And I don’t mind. I’d love the company.”
He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. “Don’t let her near the vines, she’ll eat the flowers.”
“I’ll keep her away from them,” I promise.
He hesitates, as if wanting to say something else, then nods again and leaves. I watch him go as he heads back toward the barn.
“Well,” I say to Maple, who looks up at me with what I swear is a self-satisfied expression, “looks like you’re my photography assistant today.”
True to her new role, Maple follows me around the farm as I shoot photos, occasionally wandering into the frame. She’s well-behaved, staying close without getting in the way, only occasionally nudging me for attention.
I’m so focused on my task that I don’t notice the time passing until my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the scone at breakfast. Looking at my phone, I’m surprised it’s past one o’clock.
“I should get back,” I tell Maple, who bleats mournfully as if understanding I’m about to drag her to the pen. “I’m sure you have goat things to do, too.”
As I turn toward the farmhouse, focused on trying to nudge the stubborn goat back to her pen, I nearly collide with Liam, who’s approaching with a sandwich in one hand.
“Sorry,” I stammer, taking a quick step back. “I didn’t see you.”
He holds out the sandwich at arm’s length. “Theo thought you might be hungry.”
