Page 10 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
Rowan gives me a quick nod before his attention returns to his laptop with a slight shake of his head. “You won once. The other two years, everyone was too polite to tell you that you came in third.”
“Details,” Theo waves dismissively.
I pour myself coffee from the carafe, adding milk from the ceramic pitcher on the counter. The domesticity of the scene makes something twist in my chest; a longing I don’t allow myself to examine too closely.
“Liam already ate and headed out,” Theo explains. “He’s up with the sun most days.”
I nod, grateful for the information—one less person to navigate this morning.
“So,” Rowan says, finally closing his laptop and looking at me. “Ready to assess the damage to our online reputation?”
His tone is dry, but his expression is almost playful. It transforms his face, softening the hard lines around his mouth.
“I did some preliminary research last night,” I admit, cradling my coffee cup. “Your Instagram account has seventeen followers.”
“Told you,” Theo says triumphantly to Rowan. “And fourteen of them are—”
“Your former classmates, we know,” Rowan finishes with a playful roll of his eyes.
I take a careful sip of coffee. “Your website is… functional, but not optimized for mobile, which is how most people will access it when looking for seasonal activities. And you don’t have a TikTok account, which could help create a lot of buzz.”
Theo points his whisk at Rowan. “See? I’ve been saying this for months.”
Rowan raises his hands in surrender. “I never disagreed. I just said neither of us had time to manage it properly, which is why Emma is here.”
The oven’s timer beeps, and Theo pulls out a tray of golden scones, filling the kitchen with the scent of butter and strawberries, and places them on a cooling rack.
“These need five minutes,” he announces. “In the meantime, Emma, tell us your grand vision for makingHarvest Home Farmthe most Instagram-worthy pumpkin patch in three counties.”
Put on the spot, I take a steadying breath. This, at least, is familiar territory. Despite not wanting to stand out personally, I know how to create attention-grabbing media for this business.
“You have all the elements already,” I explain. “The aesthetic is perfect; authentic but still photogenic. You need consistent content across platforms with a cohesive visual identity. Posts that highlight both the products and the experience you’re selling.”
“The experience,” Theo echoes, nodding enthusiastically, a grin lighting up his features. “Yes, exactly. It’s not just pumpkins, it’s—”
“Autumn memories,” I finish. “Family traditions. The perfect fall day.”
Rowan watches this exchange with a thoughtful expression. “And you think you can translate that into sales?”
“I know I can,” I say confidently. “It’s what I did before—” I stop abruptly, not wanting to reveal my past.
“Before?” Rowan prompts, his eyes sharp.
“Before coming here,” I amend smoothly. “I’ve managed social media for small businesses, as mentioned in our Zoom call.”
My advertising agency job in the city included social media management for several major clients. I just left out the part about the prestigious marketing firm, the rising career I abandoned, and the alpha who had tried to forcibly bond me, causing me to flee from it all.
Theo slides a warm scone onto a plate and pushes it toward me. “Well, we’re lucky to have you. Rowan set up a desk for you in the sunroom. It has the best light and a view of the pumpkin fields.”
I’d assumed that I’d be working from my cottage. The idea of spending hours in the farmhouse near these males had never crossed my mind.
Theo must see my surprise, because he adds, “You can work wherever, honestly. But the Wi-Fi at the cottage is not always reliable. But seriously, no pressure. We just wanted you to have options.”
I follow Theo through the house to a charming sunroom at the back. Large windows look out over the pumpkin fields and the apple orchard beyond them. A small desk, with a comfortable chair and a power strip for my laptop, has been positioned to take advantage of the view.
“Will this work?” Theo asks, suddenly sounding uncertain. “We can find another space if—”
“It’s perfect,” I assure him, and I mean it. The sunlight, the view, and the slight removal from the central part of the house—I couldn’t have designed a better workspace myself.
