Before long, the leaves would turn and we’d begin harvesting. Given all the uncertainty with Sugar Moon, we couldn’t afford to slack. I’d been here daily. We’d been in crisis mode, making sure everything was documented and taken care of.
But today, I was here on a special mission.
Wayne, who had been lazily trailing behind Josh, let out a squeak and stopped, his ears perking. When he started to bark, the rest of us stopped too.
“What is it?” Josh frowned down at the dog. Most dogs barked at anything and everything, but not Wayne. He was weirdly calm until he wasn’t.
Wayne walked in a circle once, then again, then bolted down the hill toward the equipment barn.
Wiping his brow, Josh followed. “If Betsy Ross got into the feed shed again, I swear I’m gonna shoot her and make a fucking rug.”
Evie gasped. I only laughed. Josh talked a big game, but he was a softie. He’d planted a damn blackberry bramble on the north side years ago specifically for her.
We followed him down the hill and through the tree canopy. As the full farm came into view, so did a couple of cars at the guest house.
Wayne was now circling one of our giant tractors. And in the cab of that tractor was an unfamiliar little boy with a mop of dark hair.
He was barefoot, and it looked as though he was planning to take the piece of heavy machinery for a joyride. He wasn’t just flipping switches and pulling at the steering wheel. He was studying the panel in front of him, like he was actually contemplating how to drive it. This kid couldn’t be more than seven, yet I was pretty sure he was attempting to hot wire a tractor.
“Hey,” Josh barked. “Get out of there. That’s dangerous.”
The boy didn’t even look up. He was completely focused on the machinery.
Wayne sat on the ground next to the cab, his tail wagging, delighted by his new friend.
My stomach sank as Josh stormed that way. Shit. My brother wasn’t exactly known for his gentle manner with strangers, so this was about to go sideways quick.
“Hey,” Josh said. “You can’t?—”
“Julian,” a high, panicked voice called out.
In the next second, a woman was running full speed down the path, wild red hair flying, jean shorts half zipped, and a lacy black bra but no shirt. With a pair of sparkly pink Crocs in her hand, the glitter catching the sunlight like disco balls.
“Holy hell,” Evie whispered.
Josh whipped around, his eyes widening when he saw her.
She darted for the tractor, her arms out.
Dutifully, the boy climbed down and jumped into her arms.
She hugged him tight, her eyes closed, then set him on the ground and checked him over for injuries.
“You scared the life out of me.” She looked over her shoulder at Josh. “He didn’t break anything, did he? Is he hurt?”
Josh blinked, looking thrown by the hurricane that had blown onto his farm. “He’s fine. Just curious.”
She let out a big breath and closed her eyes again. Then she bent at the waist and kissed the top of his head. “Next time I’ll have to put these in sport mode before chasing you.” She dropped the Crocs to the ground and wedged her feet into them.
Hands on his hips, Josh scrutinized her, his expression a mix of fear and fascination. “Sport mode?”
She stood, shoulders back, meeting his eyes without a shred of shame. She was small. Barely five foot. She looked like a tiny fairy sprite, but in this moment, she carried herself like a mafia enforcer. “You know, flip the back strap down. Ready for action.” She held out a foot, the glitter catching the light. “Emergency mom gear.”
Evie leaned in close, whispering, “I like her.”
Josh, on the other hand, looked like he’d swallowed a live wire. “Who are you and why are you trespassing on my farm?”
Brows raised, she pulled her son close. “I’m moving into the cottage up the road.”
