Page 5 of Cider for the Mountain Man

He’s always busy.

“Off the clock, actually. Julian caught me while I was making my last round. The rest of the committee can handle whatever else comes up in the next few hours.” He takes one step forward, and I immediately follow like my body is being tugged by a string. “Sounds good?”

The same fluttering that took over my stomach this morning returns as I take the chance of seeing this man up close after so much of my time has been sucked up earlier.

“Sounds good,” I mumble.

I wanted an excuse to see him up close today—and now, I was about to be completely alone with him.

Chapter four

Caden

The moment John sees Valerie, I can see his thoughts written all over his face.

He should be excited to see the woman. His hard work may have been complained about the previous year, but someone had found it challenging.

The farmer eyes me warily as we pay him for entrance.

“You weren’t kidding about it being more difficult,” Valerie murmurs as she takes in the map.

“Should only take an hour to go through,” he reassures her. “Do you remember what I said before?”

A smile forms on her lips, and I can feel the jealousy simmering deep in my chest. It’s a reaction I can’t control.

“Follow the sun if I get lost,” she repeats, easing a little of the tension in his shoulders.

“I won’t let her get lost,” I grumble next to her, taking a map for myself. I’ll know when to step in, refusing to let this woman feel an ounce of fear about getting lost.

If she’s brave enough to take on another maze, then I’ll make sure she has a good time while she’s at it.

“Best of luck to both of you. Try to get out before the sun starts to set this time.” He leans back in his chair the same way we’d found him.

“Lead the way,” I tell Valerie, gesturing toward the shadowy mouth of the high cornstalks.

She squares her shoulders as she starts moving. Clenching the paper in her hands, I notice her expression shift with determination. It’s cute. As soon as she turns her back to me, I pocket my map, ready to pull it out again if she asks for help.

Following a step or two behind, I let my eyes wander over her. A few dried flecks of paint are still clinging to her elbows, but most have flaked away. Her flannel is still wrapped around her waist, ready to be used if she gets too cold.

Is it her flannel or someone else’s? Has to be hers. Part of me wants to suggest she put it on because the air is getting cooler by the hour, solely because I want to see her in one of my favorite designs. Plaid would look good on her, just as everything else would.

Watching her try to navigate the green maze is mesmerizing. Her brow is knit in concentration, her eyes darting between the paper in her hands and the dirt path ahead, completely invested in solving John’s puzzle.

A quiet sense of relief settles over me. When she randomly popped up in front of me with that cider earlier, it felt like an answered prayer. Most people in this town tend to give me a wide berth, intimidated by my size or my usual scowl, keeping their distance unless they explicitly need something fixed or cleared.

But not her. She walked right up to me, becoming my unexpected savior from Julian’s endless blather.

Now, here I am, getting to spend more uninterrupted time with her than I ever have before. I know I should keep my distance. I know I shouldn't be letting myself fall into this quiet temptation. But as I watch her take an unsure turn deeper into the corn, I realize just how badly I’m caving.

A solid fifteen minutes pass in a blur of rustling green stalks, dirt paths, and endless turns. Valerie pauses at another cross in the path, turning the paper sideways and murmuring softly under her breath as she tries to match the path to the map. She’s so consumed by her intense focus that she doesn't hear the muffled, rapid footfalls echoing from around the corner.

My ears catch it first—the unmistakable sound of muffled giggling and squealing sneakers charging at full speed toward the intersection.

Before the two kids rounding the turn can plow right into her, my instincts take over. I reach out, wrap my arm around Valerie’s waist, and pull her flush against my chest just as two local boys sprint past in a blur of laughter, too busy having fun to take the maze seriously.

Her gasp catches in the back of her throat in that split second, and I don’t think she even understood my move at first. Her eyes are wide as she tilts her head back to look up at me.

Up close, the soft pink flush creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks is intoxicating. I drink in every detail of her face—the faint dusting of freckles, the parted softness of her lips—and my eyes linger on her mouth. For once, she’s not smiling.