Page 4 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
“I really don’t know what I’m going to do to be honest,” I say, frowning.
“Why don’t we do it at our house?” Opal says, turning to Kellan.
He nods, shoving another fry into his mouth. “Sounds good to me, I’ll fry a turkey.”
My shoulders relax and I grin, “Sounds great, Opal, I’d love that.”
Opal tilts her head, “how’s the market going, Alex?”
I sigh, looking down at my alfredo. “Oh… its going fine.”
“Uh-oh, what’s going on?” Kellan asks before biting into his burger.
“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just a grumpy old farmer. Oak & Rye’s biggest vendor isn’t exactly thrilled to work with me.” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Well, soon, he will see that you’re more than capable.” She offers me a sympathetic smile.
“Yeah, I sure hope you’re right. I meet with him tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll do just fine I’m sure of it.” She assures.
“Remember that those vendors need you just as much as you need them.” Kellan adds.
I smile at the server as he clears the table. “Thanks for dinner, guys.”
“Anytime,” Opal says as she squeezes me tight. “I’ll have to come by this week and check out the apartment.”
“Yeah, I’d love that.”
The chilly air stings my cheeks as we step outside into the parking lot.
“Send me your rough draft as you work, I want live updates and all the smutty parts!” I yell across the parking lot.
Sliding into the driver’s seat I let out a long breath. My phone buzzes. Opal.
Drive safe, and don’t let that grump intimidate you tomorrow. Love you.
The knot in my stomach loosens a little at her words. I smile and start the engine.
My fingers shake as I button my white silk blouse. I smooth my skirt and let out a shaky breath. Walking out of my bedroom, I grab the cardigan, my keys, and my bag.
I look down at my phone after locking my apartment door—10:22. “Shit.” I hiss as I dash down the steps.
Don’t be late.
Well sir grump a lot, my name is Alex and I’malwayslate.
I am going to try my best to be on time, if not early. If traffic allows. Surely on a random Tuesday it can’t be too bad.
I type the farm address into my GPS—twenty-seven minutes. Okay cool. Totallynotgoing to be late.
I frown as I pass the Starbucks to my left. Not enough time for a Pecan Crunch Iced Latte.
“Almost there,” I mutter, turning onto to a dirt road. “Great.” Dust kicks up immediately, coating the windshield in a pale film. I sigh, shaking my head. “Guess I’ll be getting a car wash after this.”
The road bumps along for what feels like forever, the autumn fields opening up on either side. The ground looks softer up ahead, like sugar sand. My car should be fine, just a little sand.
Or maybe not.
