Page 5 of Harvested By The Mountain Man
Levi
I’ve driven this train a hundred times, but today feels different. The whistle blows, steam rises from the stack, and kids squeal as we rumble out of the station. None of that is new. What’s new is her. The woman in the front car … Hannah.
I noticed her earlier in the crowd – dark hair pulled back, curves wrapped in a sweater that made me look twice. But across the square, she was just another pretty face among dozens. When I walked up and spoke, she startled. That’s when I noticed her eyes, Beautiful hazel color like a kaleidoscope. But she was guarded and holding back, like she didn’t want me to see her. But damn, she’s gorgeous.
Her daughter, Ivy, is cute – seems like pure sunshine. She asked me about the train like I’d built it just for her. The kid’s excitement made me grin before I could stop myself. But kidsdon’t ride trains alone. They come with families. And that’s the part that sticks in my throat.
Hannah could be married. Maybe her husband’s off grabbing cider, or wrangling another kid I haven’t seen yet. For all I know, she’s not available in any sense of the word.
I glance over my shoulder at both of them as the corn maze rises on the left and I make the first turn. She’s watching me, not the scenery. Our eyes meet for the second time today. The connection’s still there, at least for me.
I look away, tighten my grip on the controls. She’s a stranger. Just another mom bringing her daughter for pumpkins and fall photos. I have no business thinking otherwise. But the truth is, I haven’t felt instant attraction to a woman in quite some time.
The train slows near the patch, whistle echoing across the valley. Families lean forward, kids point at pumpkins waiting in the fields. I prepare myself mentally before I completely come to a stop to make sure everyone departs safely.
I bring the train to a stop beside the pumpkin fields. Kids wiggle on the seats, parents fumbling for phones, everyone eager to spill into the patch. I stand and step down first to steady the crowd as they unload.
“Watch your step,” I call, offering hands where they’re needed. Then it’s her turn. Hannah. She hesitates, shifting Ivy in front of her.
“I’ve got her,” I say before she can manage. She blinks but nods, letting me lift her daughter down. Ivy squeals with delight as I swing her gently to the ground. I set her down carefully, then glance back at Hannah. That’s when I notice – her left hand, bare. No band. No ring.
“You’ve got a brave one,” I say, watching Ivy dart between vines like she owns the place. Hannah smiles, brushing hair from her face.
“She’s fearless. Gets that from … well, definitely not me.”
I huff out something close to a laugh. “Fearless kids keep you young. And keep you on your toes.”
“She does both,” Hannah says. Her tone is light, but I catch the undercurrent. Sounds like a mom’s pride laced with the weariness of someone who may be carrying it all.
“You local?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Just moved to Cady Springs in the summer.”
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “hope you and your girl make good memories today.”
Her smile is beautiful and I notice her curves even more as she places her purse around her shoulder.
“That’s the plan.”
I nod, but my eyes keep drifting back to the absence of a ring on her left hand. I want to ask her if she’s taken. But it seems too soon. I hope she isn’t.
Her daughter, Ivy, is already halfway down a row, pointing at pumpkins twice her size. Hannah calls after her, laughter in her voice. She sounds happy and that makes me feel good inside.
I clear my throat and raise my voice so the parents unloading can hear me. “I’ll be back around in twenty minutes. If you’re ready to head to the square, wait by the tracks. If not, no worries. The train makes continuous trips all day.”
They respond with a few nods and a couple of grateful waves. I tip my hat and step back onto the locomotive.
But before I take off, my gaze finds Hannah’s again. She’s standing at the edge of the field, hair lifted by the breeze. I notice she’s watching me too. Our eyes hold, just long enough for something unspoken to pass between us. Curiosity … some type of connection.
I need to know if anyone has a claim on her. If not, I’m all about it. I break my stare, turning away before I do somethingstupid, like linger when I’ve got a train to run. Still, the exchange sticks with me as I grip the controls and ease the locomotive forward, the whistle cutting through the autumn air.
Chapter 5
Hannah
Ivy takes off down the first row of pumpkins like she’s on a mission, arms spread wide as if she could scoop up the whole field. Her laughter carries on the breeze, high and clear.
“Slow down, Goose!” I call after her, jogging a few steps to keep up. “You’re not hauling all of them home.”
