Page 15 of Harvested By The Mountain Man
For the next hour, the porch becomes a battlefield of seeds and strings. Ivy designs a lopsided cat face. I attempt a crescent moon. Levi carves something intricate that makes us both stare in awe – a fierce, grinning wolf that looks alive in the candlelight.
When we finally light them, the row of glowing pumpkins casts a warm halo across the porch. Ivy claps her hands, beaming. “Best pumpkin night ever!”
We end by taking photos and I get Ivy headed toward the bath. Her squeals of protest fade down the hall as I coax her toward the tub, promising bubbles and warm towels. By the time she’s splashing behind the closed door, I step back onto the porch where Levi is gathering newspapers into a heap. Pumpkin guts cling to the pages, sticky strings and seeds sliding across the ink.
“Got a trash bag?” he asks, glancing up.
“Under the sink.” I dart back inside, return with a roll, and hold one open while he dumps the mess in with a practiced sweep. His forearms flex as he shakes loose the last stubborn seeds, and for a second I forget I’m supposed to be holding the bag steady.
“Messy business,” I say, knotting the top.
“Worth it,” he answers easily. “Ivy’s grin was worth a whole field of pumpkin guts.”
We stack the bowls and knives on the little table, and the porch feels calmer without the chaos. Just the two of us, moving around each other in the soft light.
“Do you work in town?” he asks, not prying, just curious.
“Millie’s Mountain Café,” I say, brushing pulp from my wrist.
“I’ve been there since we moved here. Mostly baking and prep. Millie gives me some freedom with specials, so I get to try things out.” I shrug. “It’s a great place. Keeps us going.”
His eyes warm. “Explains the rolls at dinner. Best I’ve had in a long time.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. Compliments roll off most men like cheap lines, but from him they settle somewhere deep.
“What about you?” I ask, leaning on the porch rail. “You must know more about pumpkins than any sane person should.”
That earns a grin. He tips his head toward the garbage bag. “Seeds alone could keep a man busy. Roast ’em for snacks, press ’em for oil, even grind ’em for feed. I’ve got recipes and remedies from neighbors I haven’t dared try yet. One woman swears pumpkin cures everything from coughs to heartbreak.”
“Does it?”
He shrugs, still grinning. “Haven’t tested that last one. But if it works, I’ll let you know.”
Ivy comes out of the bathroom pink-cheeked and damp-haired, her pajamas sticking to her still-damp skin. “Pie time?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Pie time,” I confirm, cutting generous slices of the apple pie Levi brought. The sweet, spiced scent fills the kitchen, and the three of us crowd around the table again.
Levi digs in like a man who hasn’t eaten dessert in years, murmuring his approval around the first bite. Ivy chatters nonstop about her pumpkin cat face, her bath bubbles, and how tomorrow she’s going to tell her teacher that a wolf pumpkin lives on their porch.
“Wolf pumpkin, huh?” Levi chuckles, tapping his fork against his plate. “That one might be our masterpiece.”
“Best pumpkin ever,” Ivy says with all the seriousness of a judge handing down a verdict. Then she yawns so wide her eyes water.
“Bedtime,” I remind gently, rising to clear the plates. “Brush your teeth and I’ll tuck you in.”
She doesn’t argue, but before she leaves the kitchen she pauses at the doorway and turns to Levi. “Will you tuck me in too?”
The question freezes me in place. I open my mouth to protest, but she’s already reaching for his hand. He looks at me, silent, waiting for my call.
This is too much, too fast. It feels too intimate, like handing him a piece of my life I’ve guarded too fiercely. But Ivy’s eyes are shining, and Levi’s patience leaves me no excuse to refuse.
“Just this once,” I say softly. Levi and I make eye contact, holding our gaze for a few seconds more than what is normal. He senses this is big … and I may or may not be comfortable with it. But, we’re doing it for Ivy.
My little pumpkin princess returns shortly and announces, “I’m ready.”
Levi and I follow Ivy. Together, we tug the blanket up to her chin. Levi crouches at her bedside like he’s done it a thousand times.
“Goodnight, Ivy,” he says, his voice low. “Dream of pumpkin wolves guarding the porch.”
