Chapter 2
TWO
TRICIA
“This isn’t right.”
I double-check the scheduling software on the tablet, hoping my eyes are lying.
They aren’t. The bus that just pulled up outside the office doors is definitely here.
A week earlier than scheduled.
“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “No, no, no, no, no.”
The door folds open and children pour out, bouncing around like kernels of corn hitting the oil. A teacher calls out names and tells them to wait until it’s time to go in.
“You’ll have a long wait,” I mutter to myself. “Your scheduled arrival time isn’t until next week.”
As if she has a sixth sense, Lanie’s voice crackles over the radio. “I need to make one more stop before I head back to the office. Is everything okay up there, new girl?”
“Define not okay.” I mumble to myself. Taking a deep breath, I pull the walkie talk up to my lips and speak into it. “We just had a bus load of kids pull up.”
There’s a crackle over the radio. “Did you say a bus of kids?”
“That’s a big 10-4,” I respond. “I think they’re part of the field trip that was scheduled for next Wednesday.”
Before she can answer, someone clears her throat on the other side of the window.
“Hi, and welcome to Carver Family Pumpkin Patch,” I say as brightly as possible while still panicking on the inside. “How can I help you?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You must be new.”
“I am,” I admit. “It’s my first season.”
“Well don’t get too comfortable. It’ll probably be your last.”
My jaw nearly drops. What a rude… Nope. I won’t stoop to her level.
“My name is Karen,” she says. “I’m the next door neighbor.”
“The next door neighbor,” I repeat slowly. Funny, I never thought about pumpkin patches having neighbors.
Then her name registers. Her name is Karen. Of course, her name is Karen. I nearly snort.
“Well, Karen, how can I help you?”
She looks at the line of parents and kids forming at the counter. “You might consider a better system for arrivals,” she says. “Because what you have going on here looks like total chaos.”
I keep the welcoming smile firmly pasted on my lips. “Thanks for the feedback. I’ll—uh—make sure to pass that on to the power that be.”
“The powers that be.” She snorts. “That’s a good one. I don’t think the Carver kids know the first thing about powers that be. Then again, that’s probably why their d-a-m-n business is failing.”
Over the radio, Lanie’s voice crackles. “Sending backup. Don’t panic.”
Karen smirks. “Too late.”
She’s not wrong. Full on panic commencing in three…two…one…
The office door swings open, revealing a tall dark-haired man. With broad shoulders hugged by a flannel shirt, and dark whiskers framing his chiseled jaw, he looks like he stepped out of a Hallmark movie.
If Hallmark movies were X-rated and came with a disclaimer. Warning: Objects on TV are even hotter in person. Staring too long may cause you to lose the power of thought and make you damp between the thighs.
All panic leaves my body—along with pretty much every thought besides wondering who the heck this bearded wonder is and whether or not he could benchpress me.
“Hey,” he says, his vision landing on me. “What’s going on?”
I notice the walkie tucked in his shirt pocket and work boots. He must be one of the Carver brothers. I’ve only met Dylan, and that’s because he gave me a ride up to the office from the employee parking lot.
What a shame. I wouldn’t have minded meeting this Carver brother under better circumstances.
Shaking my head from my stupor, I start to answer, but Karen leans in through the window.
“If you asked me, Quinn, I’d say someone”—she gives me a pointed look—“didn’t look at the schedule correctly to prepare for a bus-load of kids.”
His dark eyebrow shoots up and he glances at me. His electric green eyes pierce straight into me. My heart skips a beat.
“Is that true?” he asks.
I take a breath to steady myself. “Kind of. But it’s only because they put the wrong—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” His tone is even. “We’ll get them settled and sort the paperwork later.” He gives a stern look to Karen. “Nice to see you again, ma’am.”
She just scoffs before turning on her heal and heading back to the parking lot. What the heck was she even doing here?
I don’t have time to wonder. I grab the clicker and start tracking the number of humans young and old that make their way to the gate.
Quinn steps back outside to meet the growing number of teachers and children at the front gate. I watch as with a calm, no-nonsense ease he guides the group toward a collection of picnic tables.
When one of the kids trips near the gate, Quinn kneels without hesitation.
“Are you okay, buddy?” he asks, checking their hands for any scrapes.
“I’m fine,” the little boy says, blinking back tears.
“There you go. Shake it off, but let a grown-up know if it hurts later. Sound good?”
The little boy laughs and races off to join his friends.
Lanie appears in the office at last. “Are you surviving or, dare I say, thriving?”
“I think so.” I hold up the ticket clicker. “I kept track so we could match it up to the reservation.”
“Smart thinking.” She flashes a grin and looks outside. “Now that everything is under control, how’d you like to go help Quinn wrangle the kids?”
I start. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’ll be a good way for you to see more of the property.”
“Well… if you’re sure…” I look back out the window where Quinn is holding court with his captive audience of third graders.
As if he can sense me watching, he glances up. Catching my gaze, he flashes a smile that has my heart pounding like crazy all over again.
“What the heck?” I say, grinning back. “It sounds like fun.”
The cold air bites my nose as I step outside. Tugging up the zipper on my puffer vest, I follow the sound of squealing children to where they’re racing across a row of hay bales.
“This is the Hay Run,” Quinn says as I fall into step beside him. “Not to be confused with the Hay Bale Maze.”
“Where’s that?” I ask.
“See that?” He leans toward me, casually resting one hand on my back and pointing with the other. “The entrance is on the other side of the go carts.”
My spine shivers at his light touch—made even lighter by the layers of quilted fabric and fluff sitting between his hand and my skin—and I follow the line of gaze, past a little trail peddle carts roaming around it.
“Oh.” My eyes widen. “It’s huge.”
“All the better to get lost in.” He chuckles. “Hopefully this year we don’t have to fly a drone over the top to find any missing kids.”
“Has that happened?”
“I can neither confirm or deny.” He pulls a face. “Just promise me you’ll never take your car keys in there. We’ve had a couple people learn that the hard way.”
“Noted.”
A sudden series of loud thump thump thumps echoes through the air, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
I instinctively grab Quinn’s arm. “What was that?”
“Apple cannons.” He briefly covers my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Someday, I’d like to have something cooler than bullseyes to hit.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know? Maybe some villains or scary characters.”
I nod, making a note to offer to paint said villains or scary characters if needed later. I have a double major in marketing and art. It would be nice to use one of those skills now that I’m out of the city.
Before I can ask which characters he’d want, the rumble of a diesel engine comes over the crest of a hill. Dylan, another Carver brother, waves from his perch atop an ancient-looking tractor, as he pulls a trailer stacked in hay and a handful of children behind him.
“Have you been to the Snack Shack?” Quinn asks.
“Not yet.”
“Shit.” He whistles under his breath. “We better get you there stat. It’s apple fritter day.”
“Are they any good?”
He blinks at me slowly. “Promise me you won’t let Chase hear you ask that question? He likes to think they’re famous.”
“Hey,” I hold up my hands in defense, “I’m new in town.”
“That’s your saving grace.” He casts me a sidelong glance. “Did my sister say you’re from San Francisco?”
“Only for the last few years. My parents are in Seattle, but we used to come up here every summer.”
He nods but slows his gait as we reach the pumpkin patch. There, row after row of circles in various shapes and sizes litter the rolling hill.
“I’m proud to say we grow all of our own pumpkins here.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Don’t most patches?”
He scoffs. “You’d be surprised how many ship them in from farms.”
My lips form an “O.” “But not you.”
“Not me. We have more than forty varieties.”
My jaw does fall open this time. “I had no idea there were that many.”
“Stick with me, and you will.”
“Oh, I will.” I give him a playful nudge.
He meets my gaze for a moment. A flash of heat flickers in his eyes and warmth spreads through my belly.
This man is really something. I’ve never felt more in danger of losing my heart so quickly to someone.
Then, the flash is gone. Almost as quickly as it appears. Quinn straightens his spine and takes a step from me.
“We should grab that cider and fritter and get you back to the office.”
I nod, slightly taken aback by the literal and figurative distance that lingers between us all the way to the Snack Shack and back.
“Good work today, thinking on your feet,” he says, lingering outside the office door. “We’ll get that scheduling issue fixed.”
“Thanks,” I say.
When he disappears and Lanie leans toward me. “Don’t take it personally. He gets like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like the weather, he can be warm one minute and give you frostbite the next.” She grins. “He’s married to this place. But if anyone could turn his head, my money is on you.”