Page 35 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
“Oh, my coffee! Can you go grab it?” I look up at Finley.
“Of course, princess,” he says.
“And the flowers, too,” I add turning back to Maya as I continue stacking cheesecake cups in the cart.
When Finley’s a good distance away, Maya leans closer and whispers, “Girl… that man is fine. Isn’t he our vendor?”
I smile, trying to play it cool. “Yeah… he is, isn’t he?” I wince before answering her question, “and… yeah he is.”
“Girl, I’m not judging, he is gorgeous. And you deserve it,princess.” She winks before getting the last bag of rolls on the counter.
I roll my eyes, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.
Finley returns, coffee, and flowers in hand. “Alright, ready to head out?”
Our tables are set, and Finley’s manning the fryers, the smell of sweet potato tots starts to fill the air.
I mix the honey butter glaze and prep the toppings for them—feta crumbles, candied pecans, maple bacon bits—all ready to go.
I look over at Finley, now carving the turkey he smoked. And God… he looks good.
His hat’s backwards, his flannel shirt clinging to his muscles, his beard groomed to perfection. Chocolate brown hair curls out from beneath his hat. And somehow, even the rag hanging from his back pocket—and those black latex gloves—add to the hotness.
He looks over at me, a smile on his lips. “See something you like?”
I laugh, “yeah, I do, actually.”
Before he can respond, a small voice calls out beside us. It’s Annalise’s daughter, holding two steaming cups of cider in her hands. “These are from my mom,” she says with a proud grin.
I take them from her little hands, and glance up to see Annalise and Dakota waving from their table across thecourtyard. Reaching for the vase, I pluck a single flower and hand it to the little girl, who spins on her heel and skips back to her family.
I set Finley’s cup down on the table beside him and take a sip of my own. The heat spreads through me and I close my eyes letting out a small “mmm.” This is perfect.
It’s cold—my fingers tingle from the chill—but the sun is out, bright, and warm on my face. The storm’s snow is gone, leaving the cobblestones dry and the leaves crunchy beneath my boots.
The air smells of bread, smoked meats, pies, and cider. The sounds of laughter and conversation swirl around me.
The first group of people steps up to our table, and I jump into action.
I grab the bread, Finley lays the meat, I drizzle the hot honey, he drops the tots, I sprinkle the toppings. I spin around, grabbing the cheesecake cups from the cooler.
Plates go out, and I watch as they take their first bites. The man lets out a satisfied groan, rubbing his belly, and the rest of the group makes little noises of delight.
We glance at each other and grin, keeping the rhythm going as more people approach. After a while, I spot some familiar faces—Opal and Kellan.
My grin widens as I reach for plates, only to find my stack empty.
“Baby,” Finley calls, his arm outstretched with a stack of paper plates.
Opal’s eyebrows shoot up. She mouthsbabyat me as soon as Finley looks away.
I chat with Opal and Kellan for a few moments, laughing as we catch up. Kellan nudges me and says, “Youhaveto bring this pumpkin cheesecake to Thanksgiving dinner, Alex.”
“Only if she’s still coming, now that she’s apparently got a new man.” Opal teases.
I feel my cheeks heat up and glance over at Finley, watching him hand out plates. I smile and say, “Maybe he’ll come too.”
I hug Opal and Kellan quickly, then return to our booth.
