Page 16 of Harvest Season in Kentbury
I spot Paul standing outside and decide to stop.Not to say hello, though.“When are you giving me back my computer?”I grumble.It’s more of a I-need-to-get-to-work-fucker greeting than anything.
Paul scoffs.“Never.But I’m glad to see you’re getting more comfortable with the town ...or is it just Grandma’s cookies?”He smirks, like my frustration is a joke to him.
“Grandma’s cookies are pretty good,” I admit, holding up the bag she gave me.“Stopped in to say hi, and she handed me these.Does she do that for everyone?”
“Yep.It’s tradition,” Paul laughs, shaking his head.
“Hey,” I ask, lowering my voice a little, “do you know anything about Meadow?”
Paul raises an eyebrow, amused.“Why?”
“I’ve been trying to get to know her while working on the festival, but it’s like she doesn’t want to talk about herself,” I say, crossing my arms, trying to sound casual, even though I’m clearly more invested in this than I should be.
Paul bites his lip, eyes narrowing with that glint that says I know something you don’t.His smile spreads slowly, and I already know what’s coming.
“Don’t even start, Paul.It’s not like that.I’m just curious about her story.”
“Sure,” Paul says with a chuckle, “that’s what everyone says, and then I end up helping organize a proposal or some shit.You remember what I told you about this town, right?No one’s immune.”
I glare at him, but he just grins wider.“I don’t know too much, honestly,” he adds.“But I do know she’s working on opening a new gallery downtown.She’s been renovating the building for months.”
“An art gallery?”That catches my attention.I vaguely remember Grandma mentioning something about it, along with the fact that Meadow’s a teacher.“She’s opening an art gallery while teaching and taking care of her grandma?”
Paul nods.“Yeah.She’s got her hands full, that’s for sure.”
“She’s talented enough to pull it off,” I say, impressed, handing him one of Grandma’s cookies.And now I can’t help but wonder—what else is there to Meadow that I haven’t seen yet?
ChapterTwelve
Raffa
Pauland I finish our conversation, and I head out to run a few errands before helping with the festival.Once I’m done, I head over to Meadow’s studio to get back to work on more festival prep.Fall’s settling in, the evening cool and breezy, and when I step into her studio, it’s warm, comfortable—just like her.
“Hey, Raffa,” she greets me with a smile, the awkwardness between us thankfully gone.Thank fuck for that.
“Hey, Meadow.Ready to get to work?”I ask, setting my bag down as she nods, and we fall into small talk while prepping supplies.It’s easy, effortless, and it almost feels like we’re just two normal people, not two festival co-chairs trying to avoid their growing sexual tension.
After a bit, I decide to ask her about the gallery.“So, the word around town is you’re opening a gallery.How’s that going?I’m sure preparations for something like that aren’t easy.”
Her face shifts slightly, surprised, but not in a bad way.She pauses for a moment, as if deciding whether to share.Just when I think she’s going to brush it off, she clears her throat and looks up at me.“It hasn’t been easy, that’s for sure.I’m honestly starting to doubt whether I can get it done.There’s so much left to do at the gallery, and between my regular job and taking care of my grandma ...I don’t know if it’s going to work out.”
I can see the doubt in her eyes, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I feel this overwhelming need to reassure her.What the hell is happening to me?I don’t know why, but something about her makes me want to fix everything.
“You’re handling a lot, but from what I can see, you’re doing a damn good job.It takes strength to juggle all that.Your gallery is going to be amazing, and it’ll probably be even more successful than you’re imagining.”
She smiles at me, but I can tell she doesn’t fully believe it.There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, like she’s fighting her own internal battle.And for the first time, I start to see just how complicated she is—how much more there is to her than I thought.
She’s like me in a way.A workhorse.She takes on too much, but she doesn’t know any other way.And now I’m wondering how she manages it all—helping her family, running the town events, and still finding time for her gallery.Hell, I’m surprised she hasn’t had a heart attack yet.
“I know you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age, but I’m curious ...how old are you?”I ask, cautiously.McKay said she wasn’t even thirty, but maybe she was just teasing me.
“I’m thirty,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly.“Why?”
“I was just thinking about how hard you’re working.You remind me of ...me, I guess.As you know, I had a mild heart attack, and that’s why I’m here.Just don’t push yourself too hard.”
She looks at me with concern, and for some reason, that concern makes my insides twist in a way I haven’t felt in years.
“You shouldn’t be working like this if you’re supposed to be resting, Raffa,” she says softly.
