8. Emma
Emma
A week into my new job, Harvest Home Farm’s Instagram following has grown from seventeen to over five hundred. It is not viral, but it is respectable progress for a small farm account in such a short time.
I scroll through the engagement metrics on my laptop, a small surge of pride warming my chest. This, at least, I can control; the perfectly framed shots of dewy pumpkins at sunrise, the time-lapse video of the hay stack slide construction, the candid of Theo arranging a display of gourds that showcases both the product and his infectious enthusiasm.
I’m good at making things look appealing and crafting narratives that draw people in.
At least this part of my life makes sense. I can turn a goat wearing a tiny hat into viral content, but apparently, I can’t figure out why my suppressants are acting like expensive sugar pills.
The dull throb behind my eyes that’s been present since I woke up intensifies as I squint at the screen. I rub my temples, willing the headache away. It’s probably just eye strain from staring at the laptop too long, or maybe the change in weather—the morning had dawned misty and cool.
I reach for my coffee, but the normally pleasant aroma makes my stomach turn slightly.
Everything smells… stronger today: the coffee, the scented candle Theo lit this morning, and even the faint earthy scent of the farm that drifts through the open window.
It’s as if someone has turned the dial on my olfactory senses.
I reach for my patches. Still there. Dismissing the thought, I focus back on my work. The farm opens to the public this weekend, so I need to finalize the opening announcements and prepare content to capture the first visitors.
The slight scent of cinnamon announces Theo’s presence before his cheerful voice does.
“Productivity incarnate!” he declares, setting a plate beside my laptop. “I come bearing sustenance for the social media sorceress.”
The plate holds what appears to be a slice of apple cake, still warm from the oven. Under normal circumstances, my mouth would water at the sight. Today, the sweet smell is almost overwhelming.
“Thanks, Theo,” I manage, offering a smile that I hope doesn’t betray my discomfort.
He pulls up a chair beside me—close but not crowding—a respectful distance that I’ve come to appreciate about him, despite his extroverted nature.
“So,” he says, gesturing to my laptop, “how’s our online empire coming along? Rowan mentioned the engagement metrics are way up.”
“They are,” I confirm, grateful for the professional topic. “We’re seeing good growth across the platforms, especially Instagram. The content calendar is filled through the end of October, and I’ve scheduled posts for the opening weekend.”
Theo’s enthusiasm is palpable as he leans forward to look at the screen, bringing a delicate waft of cinnamon.
“This is amazing, Emma, seriously. We’ve been trying to boost our online presence for years, but neither of us had the knack for it.
” His eyes crinkle with genuine warmth. “You’re exactly what this place needed. ”
The compliment warms me. It’s been a long time since anyone valued my professional skills…
since I allowed myself to value them. In the months since fleeing my old life, I’ve been so focused on remaining invisible that I’d forgotten what it feels like to be appreciated for something other than my omega status.
“I’m glad it’s working out,” I say, then wince as another throb of pain pulses behind my eyes.
Theo notices, his smile fading to concern. “Hey, you okay? You look a little pale.”
“Just a headache,” I assure him. “Too much screen time, probably.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “You know, you’ve been working non-stop since you got here.
Normal humans take breaks. Eat meals at regular intervals.
Sometimes, even step outside for reasons other than photographing vegetables.
” His tone is teasing, but his eyes are concerned. “Revolutionary concepts, I know.”
“I’ve been outside plenty. Just yesterday, I spent two hours with your livestock.”
“Maple doesn’t count. Though she’s probably better company than most people.”
I’ve thrown myself into the job with perhaps more dedication than strictly necessary.
Partly because I genuinely want to do well, but mostly because staying busy keeps me from dwelling on my precarious situation—or noticing how happy I am when I see Theo’s easy smile, or how my eyes linger on Rowan’s hands when he’s explaining something, or how my pulse quickens when Liam appears unexpectedly.
“I like staying busy,” I tell Theo, which isn’t a lie. “But I’ll take a walk later, get some fresh air.”
His smile returns. “Perfect timing, actually. I was going to ask if you wanted a preview of the whole farm experience before we open to the public tomorrow. A VIP tour so you can get those behind-the-scenes shots for the socials.”
The thought of fresh air does sound appealing. Maybe it will clear my head and settle this strange sensitivity to smells.
“That sounds nice,” I say, closing my laptop. “Lead the way.”
Outside, the sky is a clear, endless blue above the colorful patchwork of the farm.
Over the past week, Harvest Home has transformed from a working farm into a seasonal attraction.
Hay bales form seating areas around fire pits.
String lights crisscross the area between the barn and the farm stand.
Signs point the way to the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and the petting zoo.
Theo walks beside me, pointing out the attractions with evident pride.
“We’ve been doing this since we were kids,” he explains as we pass the now-completed corn maze.
“Our grandparents started the farm way back when, but Rowan had the idea to turn it into an autumn destination. I was still in high school then.”
“How long have you been doing it?” I ask.
“About fifteen years now. It started small—just pumpkins and a few hayrides. But every year we add something new.” His expression grows nostalgic.
“Our parents retired to Florida ten years ago, leaving the whole operation to us. That’s when Rowan really took charge of expanding the business side. He’s got the head for it.”
“And you handle the people side,” I observe, noticing how Theo always engages with visitors, plans events, and ensures everyone feels welcome.
He grins. “Exactly. Rowan would rather wrestle a bear than make small talk with customers. And Liam—” he chuckles, “well, Liam is Liam. Great with animals, tends to avoid people.”
We’ve reached the area that will serve as the petting zoo, currently empty of visitors but already populated with the gentlest of the farm animals—a few small goats, including Maple, two miniature ponies, and some rabbits—in a large pen with a sign that reads “Gentle Hands Only.”
“When did Liam join you?” I ask, trying to sound casually interested as I snap a few photos of the setup.
Theo’s expression softens. “About seven years ago. He was… well, he was in a rough spot. Needed a place to land. Rowan offered him a job and a cabin; they knew each other from high school, and he’s been here ever since.
” He hesitates, then adds, “He’s not always the easiest to get to know, but he’s solid. Part of our… family.”
Something in how he says family catches my attention—a slight hesitation, as if he’d considered using a different word.
“You, Rowan, and Liam seem close,” I say casually, trying not to sound nosy. I’m curious if the three of them have formed a pack.
Males who have packed up are potentially more dangerous and are more likely to be actively seeking an omega.
Theo nods, his eyes on the distance where we can see Liam heading into the barn. “We are. We made it official and formed a pack a year ago.” He glances at me, something curious in his expression. “Has it been weird for you? Being around unmated alphas?”
The directness of the question startles me. My brain immediately goes into overdrive. Casual question or fishing expedition? How much does he know? How much does he suspect?
“I—no, not at all. Everyone’s been very professional.”
He studies me for a moment, then smiles. “Good. Though I’ve noticed you tend to keep to yourself when you aren’t working.”
It’s true. Despite daily invitations to join them for meals, I’ve taken dinner in my cottage every night.
“I’m just not used to… company,” I say, which is both true and not. Before everything fell apart, I’d been social and enjoyed gatherings with friends and colleagues. But that was before I learned how quickly people could turn on you, how dominating alphas could be.
“Well, the invitation stands. Anytime.” Theo’s voice is warm, without pressure.
“Though I should warn you, Rowan’s been acting weirder than usual this past week; all growly and territorial.
And Liam keeps finding reasons to check on the animals.
” He says this casually, but a knowing look in his eyes makes my heart skip.
Before I can respond, Maple notices us and trots over, bleating enthusiastically. She presses against the fence, clearly eager for my attention.
“Your biggest fan,” Theo laughs. “I’ve never seen her so attached to someone so quickly.”
I reach over to scratch Maple’s head, grateful for the distraction. “She’s sweet.”
“You should go say hi to Liam,” Theo suggests, nodding toward the barn. “He’s been asking about your social media plan for the animals. I think he’s worried they’re not being appropriately represented.”
The thought of seeking out Liam deliberately makes my pulse quicken, but I nod. “Sure, I can do that.”
“Great. I need to check on the cider press setup, anyway. Rain check on the hay ride VIP tour?”
“Yes, of course.”
Theo gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder. A gesture that would have made me jump a week ago, but Theo’s easy kindness makes me feel comfortable.
“Meet you back at the house later.”