Brady grins and I know I must look like a kid in a candy store, but it can’t be helped.
I spin, soaking up the cozy fall aesthetic. The property is bathed in the colors of the season and stretches as far as the eye can see, though that’s probably because of the hilly landscape. There’s a rustic red and white barn near the parking lot that’s been converted into a general store. A covered porch runs the length of the building and wooden rockers are lined up from one end to the other while the side yard is overflowing with potted mums and wooden displays filled with pre-picked pumpkins in all shapes, sizes, and colors.
The whole place is giving fall influencer vibes, and I am obsessed.
“This place is amazing.”
“If I’d known pumpkins were the key to winning you over,” Brady says, raking a hand through his short hair. “I’d have suggested this weeks ago instead of humiliating myself on the pole.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have perfected your fireman spin.”
He groans.
“And don’t even get me started on your floor work.”
“Let’s never talk about that again.” He cringes. “My lower back still hasn’t forgiven me for attempting a speed bump.”
“What?” I clasp a hand to my chest, feigning shock. “You nailed it. The way you rolled your hips was—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
Brady grabs my hand and electricity crackles across my skin as he leads me up the path toward the barn. His palms are rough, but warm, and when he laces our fingers together, it feels natural.
A nagging voice in the back of my head reminds me that every moment I spend with this man is a risk and that if he knew the real me—the one who bares it all for cash—he’d walk.
It doesn’t matter because he’s not going to find out.
Besides, it’s only our third date. Surely we haven’t reached the point where we’re obligated to spill all our secrets?
As we approach the barn, Brady points to a giant trailer that’s attached to an idling tractor. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
I stare at the neatly stacked bales of hay piled high on the trailer. “We’re going to ride that?”
“It’s part of the experience.” He chuckles and tightens his grip on my hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall off.”
My stomach drops. “You’re kidding, right? People don’t actually fall off these things?”
His lack of reply is far from comforting, but I follow his lead, assuring myself I won’t become a meme.
Brady helps me climb into the trailer and I’m relieved to discover a safety rail as we take seats on a bale of hay. It’s itchy against my exposed skin, but with Brady’s hard thigh pressed against mine, I barely notice.
The trailer fills quickly and then we’re off, the steady rumble of the tractor filling the air.
“I can’t believe how busy this place is,” I whisper, scanning the faces packed into the trailer with us. It’s a mix of couples, teens, and families, and everyone appears to be in good spirits.
“Agritourism has become big business.” The trailer bounces and I lean into his broad chest for support. “People are more conscious than ever of their carbon footprint and they want to buy locally sourced produce. Combine environmentalism with a unique experience that can be posted for clout on Insta and Snap and it’s a no-brainer, if you can afford the insurance premiums.”
I poke him in the side. “That’s a cynical take.”
“Not at all. I’m behind agritourism one hundred percent. It’s a great way for communities to learn more about local agriculture and it’s a profitable venture when done right.” He pauses and wipes his hands on his thighs. “I actually wrote a business plan over the summer suggesting we open Willow Bend to the public during key seasons.”
I’m no expert, but I know farming is a tough business and anything that brings in extra income is probably worth exploring.
“And?”
“It’s been months and my mom has yet to read the proposal. She keeps finding excuses to put it off.” He grimaces. “We’re barely making ends meet, but she and Gran are so stuck in their ways, it’ll take a miracle to convince them.”
“I’m sorry. That must be really frustrating.”
