Page 4 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
It’s not fear I see in their eyes, though. It’s respect, maybe even admiration. They look at him the way people look at someone they trust completely.
I’d forgotten what it looked like when someone earned that kind of loyalty.
“Theo!” Rowan calls suddenly, waving to a man emerging from the barn with an armful of what appear to be string lights.
The man changes direction, heading toward us with a bright smile.
Theo has gentler features than Rowan; they match his easy smile. He is still tall but leaner, with honey-brown hair that curls around his ears and warm eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles.
He seems kind.
That should be comforting, but kindness from strangers always makes me wary. I’m not sure why gentleness feels scarier than sternness, maybe because it could all just be an act to gain my trust.
“You must be Emma!” he says, shifting the lights to one arm so he can extend his hand. “I’m Theo, social media disaster and event coordinator extraordinaire.”
I shake his hand quickly, noting how warm his palm is against mine. The subtle scent of cinnamon wafts from him—the same scent I’d detected in the house earlier, mingled with Rowan’s. In person, the spice of his cinnamon offers a warm, comforting edge that has me feeling more at ease.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, withdrawing my hand as soon as politeness allows.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” he continues enthusiastically, seemingly unbothered by my brief handshake. “I’ve been trying to get Rowan to invest in our online presence for ages. Did he tell you our Instagram only has seventeen followers? And I’m pretty sure fourteen of them are my former classmates who felt sorry for me.”
Rowan makes a sound that might be a suppressed snort. “Theo handles the customer experience side of things,” he explains. “He’s good with people.”
“Unlike my brother, Mr. Spreadsheet here,” Theo says with obvious affection, nudging Rowan with his elbow. “Don’t let him intimidate you. His bark is much worse than his bite.”
Something about how he says it makes heat crawl up my neck, and I drop my gaze to the ground. When I look up again, I catch Theo watching me with curious eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly.
“Well,” he says, his voice softer, “I should get these lights hung before Rowan decides they’refrivolous expenditures.”
“They are frivolous,” Rowan counters.
“They’re aesthetic,” Theo corrects. “People pay for ambiance; it lends to the atmosphere.” He winks at me. “I’ll catch up with you later, Emma. I have so many ideas for TikTok.”
As Theo bounds away, I notice how different the brothers are, despite sharing similar features. Rowan seems to carrya weight on his shoulders, while Theo moves like someone unencumbered. Yet they’re clearly close.
“This way,” Rowan says, continuing our tour toward a fenced area where I can see animals moving about. “Liam should be—”
He stops mid-sentence, looking toward a figure at the far end of the paddock. Even from this distance, I can tell he’s another alpha. It’s something about how he holds himself and the deference the animals show him. He’s tall and broad-shouldered like Rowan, but there’s something different in the way he moves. His flannel shirt is a faded red, and his dark hair reaches the tops of his shoulders, falling across his forehead as he bends to check something on a fence post.
“That’s Liam,” Rowan says. “He manages the livestock and maintenance. You’ll meet him later.”
The distant figure straightens and turns toward us as if hearing his name. Even from here, I feel the weight of his gaze. He raises a hand in acknowledgment, and Rowan returns the gesture, but Liam makes no move to join us.
“He’s not much for small talk,” Rowan explains, already turning away. “Prefers the animals to most people.”
I understand that sentiment completely.
We continue past a large garden with late-season vegetables and a greenhouse, and finally start toward the row of small cottages near the edge of the property.
“This one’s yours,” Rowan says, stopping at the second-to-last cottage. It’s small but charming, with a tiny porch and window boxes currently empty of flowers. “Bathroom, kitchenette, bedroom. Basic, but private. Liam is in the last one down, but mostly keeps to himself.”
He hands me a key—an actual metal key, not a card.
“Breakfast is at seven in the main house if you want, or you can fend for yourself. You can stock up on whatever you need back in town. We provide one meal a day as part of your compensation.The Wi-Fi password is inside, on the counter. It’s sometimes a little spotty, as you could tell from our Zoom call.”
I nod, taking the key. Our fingers brush for the briefest moment. Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before I can identify it.
“Thank you,” I say, clutching the key tighter.
