Page 16 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
Annalise grins, “thanks, it’s a family recipe.”
“I’d love to sell these at Oak & Rye!” I blurt, excitement spilling over as I take another bite, trying some honey now. “Mmm,” I groan.
Her smile stretches from ear to ear. “Really? I would love that!”
“Really. Let's exchange numbers,” I say, already fishing for my phone. “We’ll work out the details later… but consider me sold.”
We swap numbers, and she’s still smiling when she glances past me toward the hay wagon. “So… you’re the one Finley’s been talking about.” She gives me a wink.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, you meancomplainingabout.”
She chuckles. “He can be grumpy, but he’s a good guy.”
Grumpy sure is one word for it.
I follow her gaze toward the wagon. Finley’s lifting two little kids onto the bales with a rare smile plastered to his face. “You ready?” He asks them. They giggle and nod, holding onto the hay.
Maybe Finley is just grumpy withme, I wasn’t even aware hecouldsmile. Let alone laugh. He looks so different when he’s not scowling. So soft, so…handsome.
Wow…he’s actuallyreallyhandsome when he smiles. I catch myself wishing I could be the reason he smiles like that.
Seriously, Alex?
I tear my eyes away from the gleaming curve of his lips and pretend to be interested in the folds of the tablecloth.
Why would I even want to make him smile? I don’t care.
Right. I definitely do not care.
Although it would be nice to get something other than a scowl and sharp words from him every once in a while.
I glance over my shoulder as two cars pull in, dust kicking up behind them. I quickly look down at my phone—oh, it’s eleven already?
Wow, time to start. I hadn’t even noticed the workers setting up little cups of grain for the kids to feed the goats.
I turn back to Annalise. “I’d like to buy one of everything,” I tell her with a grin.
CHAPTER TEN
FINLEY
I steer the truck down the edge of the apple field, the wagon full of laughing kids bouncing behind me.
In the side mirror, I spot Alex near the photo setup, her smile bright as she adjusts a little girl’s hat and waves the family into position. She’s good at this. Really good.
When the family walks off, a gangly man steps toward her. He looks to be around the same age as her, maybe younger. He runs a tattooed hand through his brown, oily, disheveled hair as he approaches.
Her body tenses in response to his presence. She steps back instantly, shaking her head. Something about the way hemoves puts me on edge.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. She looks… upset.
The man reaches out, grabs her by the elbow. I slow the truck, heart thudding hard against my ribs.
She jerks her arm free, and the man glances around before backing off. He says something and then storms off toward the parked cars.
A few moments later, a beat-up green car pulls out of the lot, a cloud of dust trailing behind as it disappears down the road.
My pulse is quick, and my palms are slick against the old steering wheel.
