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Kate turned her head. He appreciated that she did not immediately tell him everything would be fine. Instead she asked, “What part worries you?”
“My own fruit, obviously. Your parents’ too. And the cider order because that’s my responsibility, not Joel’s anymore.” Wes looked across the boundary toward his orchard. “Mostly I don’t like losing options. This morning I had several ways to arrange the next three days. If the forecast keeps moving the way it is, tomorrow night I’ll have fewer.”
Kate considered that. “That sounds like one of my projects when a contractor finds something behind a wall. At first you have six ways to solve it. Then somebody tells you three won’t work, one costs twice the budget, and suddenly you’re very attached to the remaining two.”
Wes glanced at her. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
“Then tell me what I can do tomorrow.”
His first instinct arrived immediately. Nothing. He had it. The answer was so familiar he almost gave it without thinking. How many harvests had he given some version of that answer? He had always meant it. Then he remembered what he already knew about her. She organized complicated moving parts for a living. She did not need to know apples to be useful when people, equipment and information started colliding.
His bear spoke before Wes could. She asked. Answer her.
Wes looked at Kate. “If we move more people between both orchards tomorrow, there’ll be a lot of stopping to ask where bins go, which trailer is taking what and who needs to be where. I can show you the block map in the morning. If you’re willing to keep track of the movement, that would help.”
Kate looked pleased that he had given her something real. “I can do that.”
“I don’t need you deciding what gets picked.”
“I know.”
“And if something changes?”
“I ask you or Dad instead of making up an answer.”
Wes smiled. “Exactly.”
“That sounds suspiciously like trusting me.”
“I trust you.”
The words came out before he thought about them. Kate went still. Not because they were a declaration. They were not. But after everything he had told her about fate and mates, Wes knew the difference between supernatural certainty and this. This was earned.
Kate’s fingers tightened around his. “I trust you too.”
For a moment Wes forgot about the weather. He could have kissed her. He wanted to.
The farmhouse door opened again and Penny appeared carrying the corn-husk doll Eileen had given her. “Mom, Grandma says dinner’s ready.”
“We’re coming,” Kate called.
Penny spotted Wes and smiled. “You can come too.”
Wes looked at Kate. She did not answer for him. She waited. “I need to finish a few things at my place,” he told Penny. “But thank you.”
“We have pie.”
“That is a very strong argument.”
Penny seemed to think so too.
“Mom saved you some anyway,” Kate said. “She didn’t think feeding you once today was enough.”
“I’m beginning to understand how your family works.”
Penny took Kate’s free hand. For a second Kate remained linked to both of them, Penny on one side and Wes on the other. Then she let Wes go. “Later?”
“Later.”
