Page 6 of There's Pumpkin About You
“I was looking at your barn,” she explains, her tone soft and polite when she speaks to my brother. “Like I said, I’m a party planner. I have a fall-themed event coming up and when I saw the barn, I thought it had a ton of potential to be an event space.”
“We don’t do events,” I say.
She sends another glare in my direction as she leans against her car. “That’s why I said potential.”
I’m tempted to poke my brother with the butt of my axe for the way he’s failing to hide his laugh.
“My main reason for coming, however, was your pumpkins. A relative of a friend of mine ordered a bunch of pumpkins from you last year. She said you guys were really good and so I wanted to order a bunch for said event.” She smiles at Bash before adding, “If that’s okay with you, of course.”
Bash’s mouth opens to respond, but I cut him off. “No, we can’t help you. On both counts.”
I twist the axe in my hand, ignoring both my brother and my annoyance’s shocked expressions.
“What do you mean youcan’t?”
“Yeah, what do you mean we can’t?” Seb whispers.
I allow myself a moment to take her in—the wild brown curls, the almost golden eyes, the way her jawline effortlessly slopes towards her neck. There are no sharp lines to her, just soft edges and round features. And yet, with me, she speaks with a sharp edge. She flits between polite and angry like she isn’t used to being anything other than annoyingly nice.
I twist the axe once more and start towards my office. “I meant what I said.”
“Auggie!” Bash whispers desperately as he rushes behind me. “What are you talking about, man? We need the orders.”
“We don’t have the manpower, Bash. We have you, half of me and sometimes Sam. That’s not enough to even get the orders we have done on time.”
“Well? Do I get to know why you can’t?” Wren asks as she follows us into my office.
I sit at my desk and the chair groans under my weight. It isn’t the best-looking office in the world, but it’s what I’m able to afford—a ratty-looking armchair in one corner, a tired plastic chair opposite, and a worn-out desk that is barely holding up the ancient computer and stacks of unfinished paperwork that has piled up since I broke my arm. Paperwork that is going to take me even longer to finish since my writing hand is now broken in two places.
“We’re working with only one and a half men harvesting at the moment. We’re going to be behind on our orders as it is. I can’t afford to take on any more.”
“But you don’t even know when I would need them for.”
“You came here from two towns over instead of just calling on the phone like a normal person. That means you’re on a time limit and not just perusing for your own amusement.”
“Or,” she scoffs as she steps further into the office and leans on the edge of my already struggling desk, “it just means that I wanted to see the place for myself, out of excitement for doing what I love.”
“That’s a less likely option.” I swat at her hands with my good one. “Stop leaning on the desk, it’s struggling enough as it is.”
Her mouth falls open. “Are you trying to say that I’m fat?”
“Well, statistically you would be too heavy for this desk, so if it’s in reference to that, then yes, but if you’re asking if I think you’re fat in general, then, no.”
She stares at me in disbelief, full and distracting lips stuck in a confused grimace. It’s difficult not to notice things about her, things that would have been completely obsolete on anybody else. It’s hard to pretend that the symmetry of her face isn’t appealing, or that the way she raises her eyebrows every time I speak isn’t a little bit cute.
“Look, even if I could get the pumpkins harvested in time, as you can see, the admin required for it would figuratively kill us. I’m two weeks behind on it as it is. So, again, sorry, but I can’t help you.”
She lets her body fall into the free seat, defeated, and yet her face seems contemplative. I try to ignore her and the secret looks Bash is sending my way so I can get to work.
As expected, she can’t even let me do that. “Okay, well, what if I made a deal with you?”
My hand freezes halfway to the on button on my computer. “What if you what?”
“What if I made you a deal? I’m the owner of a business just like you. So how about we help each other out? That way, you can get on with your sourpuss ways, grumpily sat behind your desk, grumbling to yourself about paperwork that you can’t do with the hand you don’t write with, and I get a chance to line up more work in town for after we’re done.”
Neither Bash nor I reply straightaway, and she takes that as a sign to keep going.
“I need a venue for this party. What if I helped you guys fix up your barn and I used it as the venue? I have some people who could help me out and that way, when I order pumpkins from you, you guys are saved the delivery costs and time because you only need to bring them over to the barn. And then, by the end, you guys will have a newly renovated barn that you can use to hold events during the summer and the fall—and as storage the other six months of the year—and I get my name out in Eaglewood.”
