Page 49 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
The simple statement makes my omega practically purr with satisfaction. “Want to help me sell these? I could use an assistant.”
I work the farm stand for the next hour with Theo, packaging pies, accepting payment, and chatting with customers. This partnership feels natural—he handles the baking and charm, and I manage the transactions and packaging. Between customers, I snap photos of the colorful produce displays and the rustic wooden counters laden with homemade goods.
“You’re a natural at this,” Theo says as we finish serving a large family.
“I should check on the main activities,” I say eventually. “Get some shots of the corn maze, hayrides, slides, and everything else.”
“Come back if you get hungry,” Theo says, pressing an apple cider into my hands. “I’ll save you the best ones.”
The main activity area is bustling with happy visitors.
I position myself on a hay bale, capturing the scene from different angles—children emerging triumphantly from the corn maze, others giggling down the hay slides. People are sipping hot cider while others eat Theo’s delicious baked goods. Staff in matching Harvest Home shirts guide visitors.
Rowan spots me and makes his way over, his burnt-sugar musk deepening as he nears.
“Getting good material?” he asks, settling beside me on the hay bale.
I show him some shots I’ve taken throughout the day—Liam with the animals, Theo’s baking demonstration, the general atmosphere of autumn joy.
“These are perfect,” he says with appreciation. “You capture the heart of this place.”
The compliment warms me. “Part of the job.”
“It’s more than that,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “You see the good in people. The things that make them special.”
I’m unsure how to respond to the intensity in his gaze, so I change the subject slightly. “The farm is thriving. You’ve created something really wonderful here.”
“We have,” he corrects gently. “You’re part of it now, Emma.”
Part of it.
Part of them.
We walk together through the crowds, and people naturally step aside for Rowan, responding to his alpha presence withouthim saying a word. Yet there’s nothing aggressive about it; he carries his authority with a confidence that commands respect rather than fear.
“How do you do that?” I ask as we reach a quieter area.
“Do what?”
“Lead without intimidating. Most alphas I’ve known use fear or dominance to get what they want, but you don’t.”
He considers my question seriously. “My father taught me that real leadership isn’t about making people smaller so you can feel bigger. It’s about helping others recognize their own strengths.” He glances at me. “That’s what we try to do here—create a place where everyone feels valued, even the four-legged creatures.”
“You succeed,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve never felt more… seen than I do here.”
Something shifts in his expression. “That’s all we want for you, Emma. To feel seen and valued. To feel safe. To be happy.”
We reach the pumpkin patch, where families wander between rows of orange globes, searching for their perfect specimens. I raise my phone camera, capturing a father lifting his small daughter to reach a pumpkin, her face alight with joy.
“That’s the shot,” Rowan says, watching over my shoulder. “The one that captures what this place is about.”
I lower my phone, turning to look at him. “And what is this place about?”
“Family,” he says. “Creating memories that last. Giving people a place to belong, even for an afternoon.” His eyes meet mine. “Some for longer.”
“I should get some shots of the pumpkin patch before the light changes,” I say, standing perhaps a bit too quickly.
Rowan rises, too, his hand briefly touching the small of my back in a protective and possessive gesture.
