THE HARDER THE FALL
A BLACK CAT GOLDEN RETRIEVER ROMANCE
ONE
LANIE
The setting sun casts an orange glow through the front office.
The pumpkin patch closes at five on Wednesdays. That gives me some much-needed time to take care of paperwork and get my ducks in a row before the weekend, when we get busier.
Or, when we hopefully get busier.
Thanks to my brothers—and the women who knocked some sense into them—this season at Carver Family Pumpkin Patch has been better than the ones before.
But there’s still a lot of work to do if we’re going to pay off our debts and keep the neighbors from buying up the land.
“Knock knock,” Quinn calls as he enters the office. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Just finishing up some work.” I point to the pile of papers and my laptop.
“Wanna take a break for dinner? Chase and Katelyn are trying out a new pizza recipe.”
“Save me a slice? I need to send an email to our vendors for the Great Pumpkin Festival.”
We’re one week out from the major event I came up with to close out this year’s season. If it goes as planned, it will be what pushes our margins into the black.
“Okay, but maybe you can take some time off this evening,” Quinn says. “We can watch the little man.”
He points to my computer screen. On it, my son, Huck, beams at me with his Jack-o’-lantern smile, courtesy of two missing teeth.
“Nah, I’ll call it an early night.”
“Come on, live a little. Maybe go to the tavern for a drink. You might meet someone.”
“Please, I’ve seen the men around here.” I roll my eyes. ”If I wanted to date another man who will be out the door the second the doctor cuts the umbilical cord so he can go start another ‘real’ family with the next woman he meets, I know where to find more exactly like him.”
Quinn frowns. “You still deserve a night off.”
“I’ll get plenty of them after the season.”
“But—”
“Besides, I have an early morning tomorrow.” I pull up the calendar on my laptop screen. “Huck needs to be at school by seven-thirty. Then, I have a meeting here with the food safety inspector to go over the paperwork for the vendors and the fire chief.”
“Fire chief?” Quinn frowns. “The county marshal was out last month and said we were up to code.”
“He’s new in town, I guess, and wants to get a lay of the land before the festival.” I lift a shoulder. “I suppose in case there are any emergencies, he won’t be coming in here blind.”
“Makes sense.” Quinn visibly relaxes. I don’t blame him. This close to the festival—and the end of the season—we don’t need a fire marshal coming in to shut us down.
“Fire chief,” he says again, smirking. “I seem to remember that you had a crush on Chief Vick once upon a time.”
“I was Huck’s age. We all had crushes on Chief Vick.”
“I don’t know.” His shit-eating grin grows. “This firefighter could be a hotty. Maybe you’ll get yourself a date after all.”
“I’m not interested in ‘getting myself a date’, thank you very much.” I clench my jaw. “I’ve been there. Done that.”
