Chapter 36
Ari
I’ve never seen so many people willingly show up before eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. Maybe because I’ve been living in Florida the last nine years, and raising a barn in one day from practically nothing isn’t a thing there.
It’s just a thing for the Amish and Autumn Ridge.
The entire field moves with activity when I arrive.
Truck beds are packed with lumber. Folding tables hold muffins and donuts.
The smell of sawdust fills the air. Children chase one another through piles of leaves.
Elderly women sit off to the side, issuing instructions nobody asked for.
Teenagers carry boards that are clearly too heavy for them.
And conversation buzzes about the homecoming football game last night when Autumn Ridge recovered a fumble and ran it back for a touchdown at the last second to win.
(It was so exciting Wade and I stormed the field.)
The skeleton of the barn already rises from the ground. Massive wooden beams stretch toward the sky while men stand close, propping them up.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this,” I ask Reese as we make our way toward the refreshment table.
“Because it’s community.”
Community is one of those words people like to throw around to explain everything small town. A month ago, I would’ve rolled my eyes at that answer, but now, I’m starting to get it, by the way the whole town showed up to help, even if they aren’t really helping.
It’s nice. In an unexpected way.
“And we’re sure these guys know what they’re doing?” I ask.
“Ben Walker is in charge, and Dom’s really handy.” Reese shrugs. “So, with them giving instructions, I don’t think the barn will fall over once it’s finished.”
We reach the baked goods table where Rosie, Emma, Maven, and Sadie are already chatting over the donuts.
“Good morning!” Rosie beams. “I see you ladies are about as helpful as we are.”
We all laugh.
“I feel no shame,” Reese says. “This kind of manual labor is not what I do.”
Juliet joins us as well.
“Is this where all the women hang out?” Juliet asks.
“For now,” I say. “Until I find something useful to do.”
“I don’t know.” Emma glances over her shoulder. “I think the men have it covered.”
“And would you look at our men.” I whistle.
Every head turns.
Collectively.
Uniformly.
Our eyes land on different things.
Across the field, Archer tosses a beam onto his shoulder. Juliet’s gaze fixes on him.
Rosie tracks Dean as he saws a piece of wood.
Emma’s eyes drift toward Carson.
Sadie pretends not to notice James.
Maven watches Ben carry a two-by-four.
Reese studies Dom hammering.
I find Wade manhandling a ladder with just one arm.
Nobody says anything.
Not one word.
Then, all of us slowly tilt our heads in the exact same direction like synchronized swimmers.
Sadie fans herself with a volunteer flyer. “Is anybody else warm?”
“It’s fifty-eight degrees,” Emma says mechanically as her eyes stay put.
“Then why do we all feel hot?” Reese pulls off her sweater.
Rosie grabs a bottle of water and presses it dramatically against her forehead. “I’m experiencing symptoms.”
“Like good bone structure,” Juliet mutters.
Landrie walks up from behind. “What are you all staring at?”
“Hot men doing hot-men things,” Maven deadpans.
“Oh.” Landrie automatically finds Jaxon. “But why?”
“For morale!” I answer a little too loudly. “This construction site is like a ship, and I’m the captain, keeping everyone in high spirits.”
Speaking of high spirits, Wade shrugs off his flannel shirt, leaving him in just a white wife-beater.
He swings the flannel above his head like it’s a lasso then throws it at Jaxon for fun.
His arms flex as he lifts lumber with Ben and Ryan.
Sawdust dusts his shirt. His hair is messy. His skin glistens with sweat.
Flawless. No notes.
“Close your mouths, ladies.” Edna G. appears from nowhere, startling us all to the point that we physically jump. “You’re drooling.”
I grab a donut and walk away. The other women do the same, scattering like teenagers when the cops pull up.
The problem is, I keep accidentally doing things like this, finding Wade for no reason. And half the time, his eyes somehow find mine, like he’s looking too.
We’re a mess of longing looks and glances.
The realization sends a strange flutter through my stomach—one I still haven’t figured out what to do with.
Going all in with Wade Stevenson has some serious risks. The biggest: the man doesn’t commit to anyone. But if I go in knowing that ahead of time, the rewards could outweigh the risks.
And maybe he’ll surprise me, like he’s been doing all morning.
Like when I saw Wade crouch beside a freshman from our school.
“No, see?” He pointed at the tiny bubble on the level. “You don’t want it touching the line. You want it centered. Yeah, just like that.”
The grin on the teen’s face could’ve powered Vermont.
Wade slapped him on the back. “Look at that. You’re basically a contractor now.”
A cute moment my heart couldn’t ignore.
Or, a little later, I spotted Wade helping a small boy hammer a nail. The kid couldn’t reach, so Wade lifted him onto his shoulders. The little boy pounded exactly one nail before throwing both arms into the air like he just won the Super Bowl.
More evidence to ponder on.
Somewhere around lunch, I find my mom sitting in a lawn chair beside the Ednas.
“How are things going over here?”
Edna B. frowns. “I’m getting sunburned.”
“I think I have a hat in my car. Do you want me to go get it?”
“Your boyfriend is taking care of it,” Edna G. smirks.
My boyfriend?
I look around until I spot Wade carrying a pop-up tent, walking toward us.
“Alright, ladies. I found this on Main Street. I think it came from the festival.” He starts spreading it out. “This should make you more comfortable.”
My gaze shifts to my mom. I search her expression but don’t find traces of her typical Wade suspicion. Instead, she gives me a subtle nod in approval.
Shocking.
Edna B. immediately starts complaining to Wade about something else. He kneels beside her, listening.
“He’s good with people.” The statement slips out of my mom’s mouth before she can stop it.
My head whips toward her, surprise written all over my face.
“Well”—she clears her throat—“most of the time.”
That might just be the nicest thing she’s ever said about Wade.
She rolls her eyes at me as if she knows what I’m thinking. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
I smile back. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I’m going to get Edna some water.” Wade stands, looking directly at me. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Barb?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Wade jogs off, and I do a phenomenal job at not checking out his butt as he goes.
“Do you want me to set up a slow dance for the two of you at the barn dance tonight?” Edna G. snickers.
“Oh, that’s nice of you, but I’m not going to the barn dance. I need to go home and shower for the high school homecoming dance. I’m a chaperone.”
“Hmm.” I can actually see the wheels in her head spinning. “Is Wade a chaperone too?”
“Uh…”—I peek at my mom, shooting her a where-is-this-going look—“yeah, Wade will be at the school too.”
“Looks like another Langford wedding.”
Kind of a big stretch from chaperoning a dance to an impending proposal, but that’s the Ednas for you.
I walk away, leaving them to their outrageous gossip. But instead of feeling annoyed, I’m starting to find the humor in it. The Ednas are growing on me.
Hours pass.
The barn gets bigger.
The walls rise higher.
Walls become a roofline.
By late afternoon, the finished product stands proudly in the middle of the field.
Everyone stands around, clapping and cheering at what they’ve accomplished.
I glance at Wade. He’s absolutely thriving. High-fiving the kids. Shaking hands with the men. Smiling big.
He’s adorable.
And that’s when I decide, he won’t fix me. In fact, he’ll probably damage me in a new and interesting way.
But I think it’s worth exploring tonight at the dance.
Especially since my heart can’t hold out much longer.