Page 2 of Three Days of Holiday

Everything would be fine.

Deep breath in.

Hold.

Deep breath out.

I was the oldest Halliday sister in a family of cider growers. I only needed a moment to gather my shit and then I’d go back out there and kick ass. My family needed me to win this event so we’d qualify to be in Maine’s Annual Apple Cider Taste-Off State Finals and be named the number one cider farm destination in Maine.

Plus, I had double motivation because not only would I show the entire state how outstanding my family was, but I planned to buy myself a new pair of boots. L.L. Bean released their new limited-edition color, and I absolutely needed them in my collection.

I had a lot riding on the day.

A big wet slobbery tongue licked the back of my hand, and rather than wrenching it away, I stood theremotionlessly with horror written across my face. The shock stole any movement from me as a big golden retriever licked my middle finger coming back for seconds.

“Bacon! No. Come here,” said a handsome-sounding voice. Yes, a voice can sound handsome. Look it up.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood for handsome. At any other point in my life, I would have acknowledged his superior vocal cords, but that day, my brain was processing too much to make the connection. It took me longer.

Only when that same brown head of hair I’d been admiring with Holly came into my view did I recognize him as… hot guy. He pulled on his dog’s collar, jerking him back to his side.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Can I do anything for you?” he asked, handing me a napkin with the bright red logo of our biggest competitor on the front. Causebay Family Farms.

I wiped the cider and dog slobber all over the top of that damn napkin and then tossed it in the trash next to the disfigured cider container—exactly where everything from the Causebay family belonged.

“No, thanks. I just needed a minute.”

A bunch of things rushed up to me at once. I asked the most pressing question. “You named your dog Bacon?”

He laughed, but not a genuine laugh more of a “oh no, someone has asked me about my dog’s ridiculous name again.”

“He really liked Bacon when I got him, and it was the only thing that seem to stick.”

My brother had a dog name Misfit, so I supposed I shouldn’t give someone too much crap for what they named their furry friend.

“We’ll thank you for the napkin and the tongue wash,” I said, giving his dog a quick pat on the top of his head. He chose that moment to rub his snout against my fingers, and I swear a few golden retriever hairs stuck in the stickiness that would probably never wash away.

One thing you learned early on as an apple farmer—cider was a sticky bitch.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help? You look distraught.”

“No, I have to get back to my table. I’m Holly Halliday,” I said with my hand out to shake his, hopeful the dog didn’t take another pass.

“Will… um Will Davis. Are you here competing today?”

“Yes, from Oceanview Orchards.”

He nodded his head slowly and his hand found mine, the shake between us firm but slow.

“Are you competing?” I asked him when he didn’t give any other information and I didn’t know how to fill the awkward silence. Also, I may have been staring into his deep emerald-green eyes and gotten slightly lost in the moment.

“No, just here to sample the goods today.”

“Right…”

Something about his eyes and the way he smiled held my attention. My fingers were still sticky and my pants were drying incredibly slowly, but I needed to get back to my table in case anyone had a question about ouroperations at the orchard. I just couldn’t pull myself away from the man.

“Dude, Holly, where do you want this stuff?” Hope asked, wagging the two tablecloths I asked her to grab. They flapped together, creating enough noise to bring me out of my stupor.

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