Pumpkin makes a floor-circling decision and collapses with a huff near her feet, head on paws, eyes tipped up adoringly at her. I don’t blame him.
“And his owner who makes good coffee,” she says. “It’s a start.”
I glance back at the map to keep from staring at her too long. “You did this in one lunch break?”
“Don’t give me too much credit. I’ve been clocking your layout from the second I walked in. You’ve got great bones. The paths flow, the views open up in smart places. The problem’s getting people to notice the magic you’ve already got.”
Hearing her talk about my place with such passion makes my heart pound a little harder and my mouth goes a little dry.
“This place hasn’t felt like magic in a long time.” I swallow hard. “Sometimes all it takes is someone who hasn’t stared at it so long they’ve stopped seeing it.”
I set the mug down before my hand gives me away. “I could use help with that. I can’t pay agency rates, but I’m not asking for free labor. We need a real map. Fresh signage. The website’s a disaster. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“I’ve noticed,” she admits, gentle. “But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“I can pay you extra on top of your hourly. Piece by piece. Or a rate you pick for the project.” I hear myself rushing, afraid she’ll say no and this small spark I haven’t let myself believe in will gutter out. “I know it’s a big ask. If you’d rather not?—”
“I want to,” she says quickly, too quickly, like she’s afraid I’ll pull the offer back if she thinks about it. Then she reins herself in. “I mean… yes. Let’s talk scope and a reasonable price. I’m not out to gouge you.”
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
She flips the paper around and slides it between us so we’re both looking at the same thing.
“What if we anchored everything around a sense of simple discovery?” she says. “You’ve got the big stuff—the cannonsand activities—but there’s so much in between that could be charming. Little moments of bliss.”
“It’s perfect.” I clear my throat. “So, what do you say? Can you stay late tomorrow so we can get started?”
She nods, a slow, sweet grin spreads across her lips. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”
FOUR
TRICIA
The next evening, after we close the gates, I make myself comfortable in the barn.
It’s like a whole different world.
Outside, the fields are dark with the hint of moonlight poking out from behind clouds. Inside, the glow from the laptop screen throws a soft halo around us.
Pumpkin is snoring at our feet after a busy day of chasing the hayride around the property.
Quinn and I are the only two people still here. We might as well be the only people in the world.
He’s sitting close, but somehow not close enough at the same time.
I tell myself it’s because he needs to see what I’m doing.
It’s definitely not because he wants to be close enough that we bump into each other whenever one of us moves.
“Okay,” I say, zooming in on the digital map I’ve already started. “If we match the signage to the new logo, it’ll feel polished but still… charming.”
He makes a low sound of approval. “That’s a polite way of saying they look sloppy.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
His shoulder brushes mine as he leans closer. I catch a hint of soap and pine, and something else that’s uniquely him. Warm and steady, like his land. It makes concentrating on picas and hues nearly impossible.
He points to the screen. “You did this all from memory?”
