I nodded my head, not surprised in the slightest. Even at the mattress store earlier they already seemed to know who I was. Word travels fast in a small town, especially when there’s a new local.
“Yes. Nice to meet you...”
“Boone.”
“Would you mind helping me with a few gallons of paint?” I asked.
It was clear that he wasn’t much of a talker, something that I didn’t mind. What he didn’t say he more than made up for in his expressions and myriad of grumbles and grunts, each one seeming distinct and just as direct.
He spoke when he needed to, nothing more, nothing less. It felt calming to be around him and watching him get to work on mixing the different colors I’d picked out. He listened silently as I told him about a few of the things I was working on around the farm.
“You’ll need help,” he said simply, nodding for me to follow him as he carried my gallons of paint to the front counter.
“I know you’re right, but I don’t really have the time to focus on that right now. The only reason I’m even attempting to get some painting in today is because Riley is giving me his form of a pity day to get settled,” I acknowledged.
What I interpreted as a knowing grunt escaped Boone, the corner of his lips tipped upward, letting me know that I was right and that Riley’s reputation had preceded him.
“I’ll stop by,” Boone said, as I gathered the other items from my cart, setting them on the counter for him.
“It’s okay, really, don’t trouble yourself. Once the rush is over with the harvest I’ll tackle it and get some help. Until then, everything else pretty much works and thanks to you I’ll have these cheery colors to breathe a little more life into the place.” He studied my cheerful smile for a moment before focusing on the register.
Boone let out a hum as he ran my card through the machine, passing it back to me and then gathering my bags in his arms expectantly. It took me a moment to realize that he was offering to help carry the stuff to my car, my eyes stalling on his taut forearms.
“Thank you!” I said, rushing to grab the door and hold it open for him. “Sorry, life in the city was obviously different. I’m still getting used to how genuinely nice and helpful people are here.”
Wordlessly he followed me to my car, loading all of my supplies with efficient ease.
“Autumn,” he said, drawing my attention to him as he closed the lid of my trunk, his eyes boring into mine as he seemed to waver back and forth on what to say.
“What is it?” I asked, taking a step closer to him, finally getting the faintest whiff of the warm scent of cedar and sage that seemed to wrap around me like a comforting blanket.
“It sounds like you should stay,” Boone said, his low, raspy voice sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool autumn air.
A wide smile broke out on my face as he gave me a small reserved one in return, before giving me one last nod and heading back into his store. Apparently he wasn’t a fan of city life, and I was quickly remembering that I wasn’t either.
The whole drive home, back to the farm, that stupid smile stayed with me, just another sign that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Chapter4
Autumn
It had been about a week of getting up early every day with Riley, and I wasn’t any more used to it. My body was quickly adjusting to the labor, though the second and third day were iffy.
Honestly, it was the lack of sleep that got to me. Even in college my classes were later, you couldn’t catch me up before eight at the earliest. Now Riley had me getting up every day at six-thirty and meeting in the orchard at seven. No matter how much I tried to fall asleep early, it never quite happened. There was always one more project to handle, one more page to read, anything to avoid it. I knew he was up himself most days at five.
But it was the beginning of apple harvesting season now and I couldn’t afford these random slumps in energy. We still had months of apples ahead of us. Most apples peaked in September, but he'd set up a perfect routine, by spreading our varieties out, with a main harvest in each month during fall. It was the only reason we could even do the Fall Festival, otherwise our apples would be long gone before it hit.
Riley and I had brought our first bushel of Golden Delicious apples to the barn yesterday, and I’d snagged a bucket to bring inside. They were perfect for baking, so I figured it was time to test my skills. Plus, it was tradition. The first apples always went into a pie. Which is why I’d spent the last three hours trying to figure out how to perfect a pie crust… and failing.
The house already smelled like a bakery, which was a definite bonus. The downside was I had a stack of failed crusts, some that hadn’t held together and some that I’d somehow managed to ruin while blind baking them. It wasn’t like I could disrespect my grandma’s good name by going to the store and picking up a pre-made one. Okay, so I had to open all of the doors and windows because of the smoke the oven decided to make, but it was doable for now.
Swallowing down my frustration, I clicked on the baking video I was trying to follow. “Okay, butter, check. Flour, check,” I muttered to myself as I measured out the ingredients. “Sugar… shit.”
Apparently, I’d used the end of my supply on the last round. It might be cliche to ask your neighbor for a cup of sugar, but today I didn’t care. I was already covered in flour, my apron looked like I dumped a whole mixing bowl on myself, and there was no way I was going to clean up to go to the store just when I was going to get messy again.
Setting aside the mixing bowl, I wiped my flour covered hands off on my apron before heading for the door. If we were going to be friends, he may as well know I was a complete hot mess now.
It was late afternoon so I knew Jack wouldn’t be in his fields anymore, so instead I headed for his front door and knocked. The white farmhouse looked like it was built when the farm opened, but had obviously been renovated and updated creating something almost immaculate.