8. Kent
KENT
The morning sun rose over the Berkshire foothills, casting a bright copper light over the bustling lanes of the Marchetti Pumpkin Patch.
Opening weekend had arrived with a surge of autumn visitors, the farm filling with the cheerful chatter of families, the deep rumble of tractor hayrides, and the rich aroma of cider doughnuts drifting from the market.
Kent stood near his parked truck at the perimeter of the apple grove, his leather veterinary bag resting in his right grip.
He'd been called out early to inspect a draft horse belonging to a neighboring farm, but as he closed his vehicle door, his gaze naturally turned toward the hub of the market area.
The farm was operating at full capacity.
Dahlia managed the area near the primary gate coordinating parking and digital ticketing, while Junie moved smoothly behind the counter of the crowded farm stand, directing seasonal staff and packing boxes of baked goods.
At the epicenter of the bustling farm was Teddy.
Kent watched her with a calm, observant focus.
She'd been dressed in her dark denim shirt and worn canvas trousers, her dark locks gathered into a practical knot.
Armed with a clipboard and a tape measure, she traversed the area between the equipment shed and the corn maze, every now and then subtly checking safety barriers and verifying timber supports.
For the first instance following her return from Portland, she wasn't trying to manage every single task alone.
She'd been delegating tasks to Evan and Carrie, allowing her family to share the physical strain of the opening rush.
Yet Kent could see the tight line of her shoulders, the subtle tension in her jaw that revealed how much effort it took for her to relinquish control.
His mind flashed back to their conversation in the clinic room two days earlier, when he'd told her plainly that he wanted her and wasn't going to chase someone who continually pushed him away.
She'd left the clinic without giving him an answer, but her high defenses had been visibly shaken.
Now, when her eyes swept across the crowd and caught his, an undeniable spark passed between them.
Teddy paused, her dark eyes widening slightly before she offered a brief smile and returned her attention to a stack of wooden crates.
Her response was muted, but the air between them remained electric with unstated tension.
Before Kent could cross the yard toward her, a sharp cry echoed from the small animal enclosure near the timber press barn.
A young child had accidentally unlatched the heavy wooden gate of the goat pen.
Distracted by the sudden surge of visitors, the child had pulled the latch free, allowing two pygmies to bolt into the open yard.
This wasn’t the first year something like this had happened.
These goats loved to make their escape as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
A sudden wave of panic rippled through the nearby crowd as one of the goats, startled by a passing stroller, darted toward a pile of stacked cedar fencing.
The animal attempted to leap over the timber, its hind leg catching awkwardly on a protruding iron bracket before it tumbled into the grass with a pained bleat.
Kent moved instantly, his clinical instincts taking over. He bypassed the startled crowd, his words calm and unshaken as he called out to reassure the frightened child and maintain order.
"Stay still, everyone," Kent called out, his words bearing an absolute authority that immediately quieted the surrounding visitors. "Give the animal space."
Teddy was already at the fence line, her practical instincts matching his. She didn't panic or shout; she positioned her body near the cedar stack, blocking the animal's path toward the main driveway.
"I've got the gate," Teddy announced, her words crisp as she swung the wooden frame back into position to prevent the other goats from escaping. She turned her dark eyes to Kent, her posture alert. "How bad is the leg?"
Kent knelt in the soft grass beside the trembling pygmy goat.
He placed one broad hand gently against the animal's flank, his touch firm and reassuring as he began a physical examination.
The goat offered a soft bleat, its sides heaving, but Kent's gentle hands quickly calmed its panic, as if the animal instinctively knew it was safe with him.
His long fingers moved down the hind limb, carefully palpating the joint and tracing the bone line.
"It's a superficial scrape and a mild sprain," Kent said confidently, as he looked up at Teddy. "The joint isn't compromised, but the skin is broken along the hock. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged before any dirt gets into the wound, otherwise he’ll end up with an infection."
The child's mother approached, her face pale with worry as she held her crying son. "I'm so sorry," the woman offered, her voice trembling as she surveyed the goat. "He didn't mean to lift the latch."
"Don’t worry. Accidents happen quickly when the yard is full," Kent replied, his expression gentle as his gaze rested on the young boy.
He retrieved a small container of dried apple treats from his coat pocket and offered one to the child.
"The goat is going to be fine. Why don't you take your son over to the market area for a cider doughnut while we fix the leg? "
The mother offered a grateful nod and guided her son toward the market. Teddy watched the exchange, her dark eyes softening.
"We should move him out of the sun," Teddy observed, as she motioned toward the cool interior of the barn across the yard. "The equipment platform is clear, and I've got clean towels in the workroom."
"I can carry him," Kent said, slipping his arms under the small goat's torso and lifting the animal with practiced ease.
Teddy led the way through the wide double doors of the barn, holding the heavy oak frame open for him.
The bustling noise of the festival faded as the cool, cedar-scented shadow of the barn wrapped around them.
Kent set the goat gently onto a clean wooden workbench, his gaze meeting Teddy's in the peaceful atmosphere.
The chaotic energy of opening day receded, leaving only the steady, unyielding connection that had been growing between them.
“Can you hold him down for a minute?” Kent asked and Teddy complied.
The interior of the wooden structure enveloped them in a cool cedar serenity, muting the festive clamor of the pumpkin patch and orchard outside.
Shafts of late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the upper openings in the weathered siding, illuminating floating specks of wood dust above the central floorboards.
Kent set his medical bag onto the sturdy workbench, the metal latches clicking softly as he retrieved tubes of antiseptic and soothing salve and a roll of linen bandage.
Beside him, Teddy remained with her face near the small goat, her hands steady as she gently held the pygmy goat's shoulders to stop it from getting up.
The animal released a soft bleat, its small frame relaxing again as Kent gently inspected the bruised hock.
He applied the antiseptic salve with gentle care, working with a practiced efficiency that'd calmed countless restless livestock across the county.
Teddy's hands stayed firm against the goat's dark coat, her knuckles dusted with fine pine shavings from her morning work on the timber frames.
"Thankfully the ankle isn't dislocated," Kent observed, his words level and low as he wrapped the linen strip around the leg. "It's a mild strain and a superficial graze. He'll be jumping around the pen again in a few days if kept off the jump stacks."
"I'll tell the team to secure the latch with a double carabiner so kids can’t get it open as easily," Teddy replied, her tone brief as she watched his hands. "We can't afford animals escaping while the farm stand is packed. You’d think we would have learned our lesson by now."
Kent finished tying the bandage with a neat knot, his fingers lingering for a brief instant against the nervous goat before he straightened up.
As he turned toward his equipment bag to pack his supplies, his gaze caught the slight wince that crossed Teddy's features as she shifted her weight.
A quick tightening around her eyes betrayed the physical strain she'd attempted to hide.
"You're favoring your right shoulder," Kent remarked, his eyes staying anchored on her profile as he braced his side against the rim of the workbench.
Teddy straightened her spine. "I'm fine. I just spent three hours leveling the sill plates before the gates opened."
"Leveling white oak sills isn't a solo task," Kent countered. "You’re as bad as Junie was last year. You're running on sheer stubbornness, and you're going to injure yourself before the harvest season even peaks."
"I can’t ask my sisters for help with the physical labor.
They’d end up breaking a bone. Besides, I know my physical limits," Teddy insisted, her dark gaze flashing with sudden heat standing her ground.
She wiped one dust-stained palms against her work apron, while still keeping a hand on the goat.
"I don’t need a medical lecture on how to manage my own body or my workload, thank you. "
"It's not a lecture," Kent said, drawing closer so that only a few inches separated them. The heavy aroma of pine, cedar, and her skin filled the narrow air between them. "It's just concern. You've been pushing yourself past exhaustion. Asking for assistance doesn’t make you weak."