Page 24 of There's Pumpkin About You
“Oh, yeah, he’s fine!” she says loudly. “He just had a really long night, so he asked to switch shifts with me. No biggie.”
Lola is a very loud individual. I love it. She reminds me of Oakleigh—a little chaotic but with such good intentions.
“Did you want your usual? Jamie already filled me in on what it is.”
“If that’s okay. Plus an extra cinnamon latte with oat milk for my brother.”
“You got it,” she beams. She starts towards the large red and white vintage-looking coffee machine, but she turns back abruptly. “Oh, I heard that Sam is on the farm today if you want me to add his order, too.”
Do I trust myself to carry five coffees? No.
Do I want to make a good impression on the last and final brother? Yes. I’ve heard a lot about him, but I want the chance to get to know him myself before listening to town gossip.
I offer Lola a weak nod. “That would be great.”
Whilst she’s not as fast as Jamie, she still makes the coffees quicker than I ever could. Just like her cousin, when she finishes a coffee, she uses a black marker to write down the name of its owner on the lid, calling me “newbie” again.
I pay, say a goodbye to Lola, and walk out of the café slowly for the first time since I arrived in Eaglewood.
* * *
I was grateful there wasn’t anyone behind me as I was driving over to Goldleaf Farms because I was driving well under the speed limit. It was very difficult not to, what with five coffees on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The bumps along the road leading to the farm were an added challenge and whilst it would usually take me three minutes to get from the end of the road to the farm, today it’s taken a good solid seven and a half. Add in the fact that I spent the entire time on the phone (over Bluetooth, of course) to a DJ I know in Redford, and it’s a miracle my entire passenger side is not covered in coffee and sugar.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I put my SUV into park and look over to find the floor around the coffees still bone dry.
I force my eyes to stay on the task at hand and not move their gaze over to the barn. Everything I felt yesterday will come flooding back if I look over and I need to go into this day in a positive light.
I jump out the car with my head down and rush over to the passenger side and grab the coffees, holding mine in one hand and everyone else’s in a drinks holder. Like the world’s worst gymnast, I try and balance my way from the car to the main building.
Just as I’m halfway there and starting to actually believe I can make it, a shout comes from the barn and I jump, leading to a couple of drops of Finn’s coffee to leap out of the cup. Imutter a curse, try my best to wipe my hand onto my brown knee-length jacket, and reluctantly look up towards the source of the noise.
When my eyes raise, my coffee slips out of my hand as a surprised breath leaves my chest.
ChapterEleven
WREN
There’s no sound of paper meeting grass that follows once my coffee leaves my grip. There is no warmth that spreads through my thin knee-high boots as coffee seeps through the fibers.
Instead, there’s a low, somewhat sexy grunt as someone manages to catch the cup less than a second after it slips from my hand. I tear my eyes away from what used to be the barn ahead of me and turn towards the man who just saved my precious libation.
“Thank you so mu—” The last word becomes trapped, stuck to my tongue by the shock of seeing none other than August Finch in front of me, my coffee in his free hand, some drops of the sweet nectar dripping from his fingers.
He looks frustratingly attractive, as always—brown hair messy from his fingers raking through it over and over; a plaid shirt tied around his waist, this time of the yellow and blue variety; somewhat overly distressed dark blue jeans and a typical pair of brown work boots. He’s groomed his beard since last night, what I imagine used to be rough strands now cut down into more of a thick stubble.
He has me pinned with an annoyingly adorable stare, head tilted, nose scrunched and dark brown pools glinting with curiosity. Seriously, why does someone so infuriating have to be so handsome?
Of course, just like always, he has to ruin the view by opening his mouth and letting words escape. “Are you really that petty that you stop saying thank you just because it’s me?”
I can’t resist the thrill that runs down my spine and the deliciously dirty fantasies that enter my mind when he lifts two wet fingers to his lips to suck off the coffee. He grimaces at the taste.
“Too sweet.”
I let out an exasperated sigh as I roll my eyes, grateful that his attitude has the pool between my thighs drying up. “I wasn’t stopping because it’s you I have to say thank you to. I was stopping because I was shocked that you helped at all.”
His thick, dark eyebrows flinch. “You think so lowly of me? Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised, what with you being uptight and all. You would think that everyone else is somehow less, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s not even nine in the morning, do you seriously have to be this much of an ass so early in the day?”
