Page 28 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
He’d recognize me.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I duck lower behind the display. Think, Emma, think. I could slip away, hide in my cottage until he leaves. But that would mean abandoning my job on opening day, leaving the documentation incomplete.
“Emma?”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of my name, thumb ready to blast some Alpha-Away.
Theo appears beside me, his features creasing with concern as he takes in my crouched position and what must be a terrified expression. I tuck my spray back into my pocket, hoping he didn’t see the logo.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He drops to a crouch beside me, keeping his usual respectful distance, his voice low. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
His mere presence makes my heart beat steady. I subtly lean into him, taking comfort in his cinnamon scent.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, but my voice shakes. “Just… getting a different angle for the shot.”
Theo’s eyes narrow, clearly not buying my excuse. My slight shift in posture has not lost his attention. His gaze sweeps the crowd as he searches for whatever threat has me spooked.
“That guy bothering you?” he asks quietly, nodding toward Marcus, who’s now sampling apple cider. “The one in the expensive jacket who looks like he’s never been on a farm?”
When I look again, he turns entirely around towards us.
It’s not Marcus—not him at all.
Fuck. I’m seeing things now.
Theo’s expression hardens at my silence, and a protective edge enters his voice that I’ve never heard before.
“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll handle this.”
“No!” I grab his arm before he can stand. “It’s not him. Sorry. I’m an idiot. I thought it was… someone else.”
Theo studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “I’ll get rid of him anyway, OK? Just take a break.”
He disappears into the crowd, and I watch as he approaches the man with his trademark charm turned to full wattage.
“Sir! Perfect timing!” Theo’s enthusiastic voice carries across the farm stand. You look like someone who appreciates quality. We’re offering an exclusive VIP tour of our apple orchard, only for our most discerning visitors. Would you like to join?”
The man preens at being singled out, his ego clearly flattered. Within minutes, Theo has shepherded him and several other visitors toward the far end of the property, away from where I’m hiding.
I go to the petting zoo area, seeking the one creature who won’t ask questions. Maple spots me immediately, abandoning the children fawning over her to trot to the fence where I stand. Her insistent bleating draws a watery laugh from me as I slip through the gate, finding a quiet corner behind the small shelter.
“Hey, troublemaker,” I whisper, sinking onto a hay bale.
Maple butts her head against my knee, then climbs awkwardly into my lap as if she were a much smaller animal. Her weight is comforting as I wrap my arms around her warm body, burying my face in her soft fur. She smells like sun-warmed hay.
“You’re too big for this,” I tell her, but make no move to push her away.
Maple responds by pressing closer, her steady heartbeat against mine, gradually slowing my racing pulse. I don’t know how long we sit there—me clinging to a goat like she’s a lifeline—Maple seemingly content to be my emotional support animal.
The panic recedes in gentle waves, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
“What am I doing here, Maple?” I murmur against her fur. “I can’t keep running forever.”
She bleats softly, as if in agreement.
Movement at the entrance to the petting zoo catches my eye. I tense, but it’s only a family with small children. From my hidden corner, I have a clear view of the main path and the man who looks like Marcus—but is not Marcus—who is now walking toward the parking lot with a woman on his arm.
“He’s gone,” I whisper to Maple, who bleats as if to say, “I told you so.”
