Page 29 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
After she gathers her things, we head toward the door. She locks up behind us, and I fall into step beside her.
I open her car door, and she looks up at me, still smiling. Always smiling. “Follow me home?”
I nod, my mind racing—should I kiss her? I want to. But I don’t. Instead, I just awkwardly stare at her until she slides into the driver’s seat.
I stand in her kitchen, watching her retreat to the bathroom, her voice calling back, “Make yourself at home.”
The apartment is… her. Cozy, warm, small, and incredibly clean. The white couch gleams under the soft light, and I don’t even think about touching it. Farmers and white furniture don’t exactly mix.
I wander over to bookshelves, running my fingers over the spines. Romance novels. Lots of them. She really loves this stuff. Competing with real-life men? No problem. Competing with fictional men? No chance. I chuckle under my breath.
I find one that looks interesting, “Romance in the Barn.”Huh.I tuck it under my arm and make my way back to the kitchen, sliding onto a stool.
And my mind starts racing. About her smile. Her eyes. About how impossible it seems to let someone in after everything I’ve been through. How could I ever have a close relationship without her spending time on the farm?
The event went fine, but I can’t exactly lock up the bulls every time she shows up. Send everyone home and cut off the equipment every time she visits?
I drop my gaze to the floor, chest tight with doubt and conflict.
Then she steps out.
The scent of her—sweet, floral, clean—hits me, and all doubt, all fear, vanishes in an instant.
I’ll figure it out. If she even wants me to, that is.
I lift the book I swiped from her bookshelf, holding it up. “Mind if I borrow this?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
Her face lights up, and she grins. “Ooo, I love that one! Of course—borrow any you’d like.”
She walks over to me, hips swaying with every step. She stops just in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of the shower still clinging to her.
She wraps her arms around my neck and murmurs, “I would never expect you to be a romance guy.”
I chuckle, running a hand along her back. “I want to try something new. Anything with a barn on the cover must be good, right?”
She laughs and tilts her head. “So… are you ready to go?”
I nod, excited to spend the day with her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALEX
We’re sitting out on the heated patio for lunch, watching the quiet town. I take a bite of my pimento grilled cheese and sweet potato fries, while Finley dives into his chicken and waffles.
“I have to say,” he says between bites, “your peppered sourdough bread? Seriously, that’s amazing.”
I feel a little glow in my chest. Hearing him rave about something I made… it’s a good feeling.
We dive into planning the festival contest menu. After a few laughs and bites, we settle on hot honey turkey sliders on my peppered sourdough rolls, pumpkin cheesecake, and a cup of loaded sweet potato tater tots.
“I think we have this in the bag,” I say, looking at him.
He grins. “Oh, we’re winning no doubt about it.” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “Although, Annalise and her apple pie might be a close contender.”
“Oh shoot, I completely forgot to text her about selling her canned goods at the store,” I say, shaking my head.
Finley tilts his head, eyebrow raised. “Really? You’d do that for her?”
