The distance disappears between us.
Her mouth meets mine softly at first, like she’s aware we have an audience, and she’s trying to figure out how she wants this to go.
But I’ve done nothing but think about how badly I wanted to do this from the first time we almost kissed in her kitchen, and we’ve got a decade of this to make up for.
I tighten my hold on her without thinking, drawing her closer until the edge of her camera bumps lightly against my chest. For one suspended moment, the world narrows to the warmth of her lips and the familiar steadiness of her body against mine. The farm noise fades, and for a moment in time, I forget where we are.
She sighs against my lips, the sound slipping under my skin, and the kiss deepens without urgency, without spectacle. Familiar and steady. Like something we’ve done a hundred times before and never stopped wanting.
It lasts one beat longer than it should.
Then reality snaps back into place all at once—the weight of her camera, the open rows of trees behind us. The fact that this isn’t private at all.
I pull back, forehead resting against hers, my hands still at her waist like they don’t know how to let go yet. My pulse is loud in my ears.
“Okay,” I murmur, more to myself than to her. “That was?—”
She smiles, slow and knowing. A little dangerous. “The perfect reward for all your hard work around here?”
“Public,” I correct, glancing past her shoulder, suddenly aware of everything again. No one’s staring or reacting. And the slight panic in my chest lies down again enough so I can give her my attention again. “And worth it.”
Her fingers hook lightly in my jacket, grounding me. “You’re the one who asked if I was comfortable.”
“You were challenging me,” I rasp. “How am I supposed to turn down my wife when she asks for a kiss?”
Something shifts in her expression as she smiles again, this time softer. “Careful. That’s probably something you should keep to yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t want to,” I say.
I’m tired of keeping it all to myself.
Kissing Chloe in the middle of our madness let me forget—for a moment—what today represents for me. For us. It let me veer onto a new path where happiness settled in my chest instead of something dark and exhausting.
I’ll give her every cheat card I possess if it means more of this.
I’ve already wrangled a dead card reader, low inventory, and a minor injury in the cut-your-own section. This was, by far, a highlight of the day so far.
“Aunt Evie sent me to say there’s a problem at the shop and to stop kissing”, Phoebe giggles, “Mama, so you can fix it.” Her cheeks are pink, and in that moment, she looks exactly like Chloe.
“She did, huh?” I ask, stepping back.
I already hate the space between us.
“Yep! Let’s go.” She slides her hand into mine, and I try not to notice how perfect it feels.
I shoot Chloe a look as I’m dragged away. “I promise we’ll talk about the original conversation later.”
“The farm needs you,” she says. “Go forth and rescue.”
That crooked grin nearly drops my knees.
I’ve done everything I can to prep for the onslaught of visitors we usually get during the holidays. And we’ve already had more guests pass through than normal for Opening Day. I ran through tech checks, arranged wreath trimmings—with Evie’s help—and scrubbed bathrooms till they gleamed.
We built real restrooms years ago because no one likes to use a Port-A-Potty. Mom pushed for a full-blown diaper station years ago, and it’s one of the biggest things guests comment on in their reviews.
Still, when one thing breaks, it’s dominoes.
I hate that I forgot about her sessions. That was part of the reason she moved in here, part of the reason we’re married. But it’s better to postpone than be yanked away mid-conversation. She deserves my full attention.
