Page 15 of There's Pumpkin About You
“It’s not being helpful, it’s making sure Wren needs to visit Eaglewood as little as possible.”
He looks amused. “The whole of Eaglewood?”
“Yep,” I say before turning and heading out. “Staying away from my farm is not far enough.”
ChapterSeven
WREN
My house is a small cottage ten minutes out from the edge of Beckford. Even though they aren’t particularly up to date with the world in this town, it seems they are at least open to the idea of the younger generation moving here. The lady Adam and I bought the house from finally managed to book herself her dream holiday to Egypt and then decided to sell once her vacation was coming to an end, so she could stay out there for a year. She was only too happy when we asked to buy the place.
By the time I’ve driven back home, packed a bag for tomorrow, worked on Oakleigh’s party some more and gotten ready for bed, it’s late, and despite not doing much with my day, the excitement that I was feeling earlier has now drained away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. I don’t take in much of anything. I make sure I’m aware enough to find my way to the living room and that is the end of Wren Southwick for the night.
This morning, I’m feeling refreshed. But worry still wraps around my head like a ribbon tied too tight. I ran out of Gus’s office like a thief in the night. No man has ever looked at me with the hunger I saw in Gus’s eyes and it has shaken me. It was either that he didn’t want to hide the heat in his eyes, or he didn’t know how. It’s the part of August Finch that holds the biggest mystery so far—how is one man able to show everything and nothing at the same time?
But then again, maybe that was his intention. Maybe he wanted to throw me off knowing that I’d back down and he’d have more time to think of a reason to say no to our deal.
As I wrap myself up in my light blue dressing gown and wander down into the white and oak kitchen, I make blind guesses as to what it would be like to work with Gus, what it would be like to see him every day until we finish the barn. There is an arrogance which leads me to think that we’d end up fighting it out with the farm’s discarded tools by the end of the first week. And yet there is a small part of me that wants to see just how deep the well that is Gus Finch runs; see if my immediate opinion (other than that he’s extremely good-looking) is merely misinterpretation.
I grab the milk I bought yesterday, pour it into my cereal and think to myself that everything is probably not all that it seems.
It’s not until midday, after a phone call with Oakleigh to offer an update and discuss decorations for the party, that I make it out of the house and over to Eaglewood’s Sweet Cinnamon Café.
I’m not surprised by the stares and whispers as I enter. The sweet smell of chocolate and the bitter scent of coffee are the perfect start to my afternoon and so a few curious locals aren’t going to deter me.
Jamie offers me an aloof smile from behind the counter, his red hair covered by a baseball cap. You could spot his pink jumper from a mile away, especially when he’s paired it with some green corduroy pants.
“Hey, newbie,” he greets. “Survived day one I see.”
“Afternoon, Jamie.” I pull my card from my purse. “I didn’t stay for too long. I live over in Beckford. You’d be surprised how easy it is to avoid being the newbie when you’re two towns away.”
“You’re living my dream, babe.” He taps a few buttons on the till. “Want the same as last time?”
I nod. “The guys’ coffees too, please.”
He smiles slyly. “So your attempt to woo the Finch brothers was successful then?”
“I’m not wooing anyone!” I turn to face the locals who don’t even bother to conceal their efforts to eavesdrop. “I wasn’t wooing anyone, I promise.”
“Good!” says an older woman sitting against the window. “Those Finch brothers are nothing but trouble.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
She turns in her seat and the café quietens further. “All that youngest one does is stay on the farm and ignore everyone. Then, when he does talk to someone, he has the gall to be rude and obnoxious. He called the other day to tell me that my order for the library would be late and I told him that was unacceptable. Just because he’s broken his arm? If he hadn’t gotten rid of all his staff, then his arm wouldn’t be causing any issues.”
A warning look from Jamie tells me it’s probably best not to mention the slightly selfish outlook on that one. I do find it interesting that Gus apparently let all of his staff go, however.
“He’s always been a strange kid, Sandra,” says a balding middle-aged man sitting a few tables away. “I remember back when I used to teach him, he always used to come into school with ear plugs. I had to constantly tell him that they weren’t allowed but he wouldn’t listen. He almost lived in detention because of it.”
Okay, not too sure about that one either.
“Let’s not forget about what happened when Erica came to town. Now that was a rough month,” a woman chips in from across the café.
“I think the situation with Melina was worse than Erica, wouldn’t you say, Millie?”
“True,” she agrees as I realize that I’ve now been weaseled out of this conversation. “Then again, even his own father always used to talk about how strange he is. He’s always been rude. He even had the audacity to tell me that my shoes were horrible.”
Jamie whispers into my ear. “He told her that they weren’t a good idea for winter. She was wearing stilettos in the snow. Tripped over four times.”
