Page 14 of Harvested By The Mountain Man
Her move, Rowe. Let her make it.
♥♥♥
The sun tilts low by the time I shut the barn doors and stretch the ache out of my shoulders. I’m about to head for the cabin when my phone buzzes. Unknown number, local area code. My pulse spikes before I even look at the screen.
It’s her. It has to be. I swipe to answer so fast I almost drop the damn thing.
“Hello?”
There’s a pause, soft breath, and then her voice comes through. It’s timid, shy, sweeter than anything I’ve heard all day.
“Levi? It’s Hannah. I, um … was wondering if you might have a small saw or another tool. Ivy wants to carve all the pumpkins, but the big one …” She laughs nervously. “My kitchen knives aren’t going to cut it. Literally.”
Relief and excitement hit me like a hammer. She called. She actually called. I grip the phone tighter, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve got just the thing. I’ll bring it by.”
“Thank you.” Another pause. “And … if you don’t mind, maybe you could stay for dinner? Nothing fancy, but … it’s the least I can do.”
Dinner. At her place. I bite back a grin, leaning against the truck like I need the metal to hold me upright. “I’d like that,” I say. “Very much.”
We hang up, and I stand there for a long moment, staring at the sky. I’ve handled emergencies on this ranch, weathered storms that flattened whole crops, but nothing feels as monumental as this.
Hannah just invited me into her world.
Chapter 13
Hannah
The kitchen smells like garlic and butter, and for the hundredth time I question my decision to invite Levi over. Dinner seemed like a simple thank-you when I said it on the phone. Now, standing here with the skillet hissing and my stomach tied in knots, it feels like I’ve handed him a key to every locked door in my house.
Ivy bounces between the table and the porch, checking every few seconds for his truck. She’s been chanting, “Pumpkin night, pumpkin night,” like it’s a holiday she invented.
“Sweetheart,” I say, wiping my hands on a towel, “if you don’t settle down, you’re going to wear a path in the floor.”
Her grin is unstoppable. “We’ll have the biggest jack-o’-lantern ever.”
My heart stutters. He said yes. He’s on his way. Headlights sweep across the front window, and Ivy shrieks like it’s Christmas morning. “He’s here!”
I barely manage a smile before the door opens and Levi steps onto the porch, carrying a toolbox in one hand and a grocery sack in the other. He looks … big. Too big for this little place.
“Evening,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Ivy, you ready to wrestle a giant pumpkin?”
“Yes!” She darts forward and grabs his hand without hesitation, tugging him toward the porch where our orange boulder waits. My throat tightens at the sight – my daughter trusts him so easily. Why can’t I be open like that? Well, I know why.
I follow them out, rubbing my damp palms on my jeans. “Dinner’s almost ready. I figured you’d need fuel before taking on that monster.”
Levi lifts the grocery sack. “Brought dessert. Apple pie from Pike’s booth. Figured it might sweeten the deal.”
The man thinks of everything.
Dinner is loud with her chatter, the three of us crowded around the little table. Levi takes seconds of everything, murmurs that my cooking beats anything he’s had in months. I roll my eyes, but the praise warms me.
The three of us agree to wait on apple pie until after the carving of pumpkins. We set up on the porch with newspapers, bowls, and knives for the smaller pumpkins. Levi kneels beside the giant, pulling out a small hand saw from his toolbox. “This one takes commitment,” he says, meeting my eyes like the words mean more than pumpkins.
Ivy giggles as he carves a lid big enough for her to climb through. Pumpkin guts spill across the porch, and she divesin elbow-deep, squealing with delight. Levi laughs, rich and unguarded.
“Think you can handle the medium one?” he asks me, nodding toward the pumpkin by my feet.
“I’ve faced tougher battles,” I say, sawing into the top. Juice runs down my wrist, and I make a face. He grins, shaking his head.
