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“Not from anything I’ve read.”
“Come on, Juliet,” Landrie says, rolling her eyes. “We all wanna go to the patch, and you’re preventing the romance.”
“You wouldn’t want to do that,” Archer says.
Knowing I’ve been backed into an impossible corner, I finally relent. “Fine.”
Landrie squeals, thinking she’s doing some major matchmaking right now. I’ll set the record straight soon, if only for my own dignity.
I move forward to the front of the wagon, Landrie, Jaxon, Ari, and Wade completely in their own worlds by the time I reach Archer.
“Hi, there. Juliet, is it?”
I shake my head with a hidden smile. “Just tell me how to climb into this dang thing.”
He points to the metal step, then the side of the wagon. “Left foot there, right hand here, the other hand...here.” He extends his own hand, and I stare at it. Callused fingertips, creases across the palm, strong fingers, and ridging veins.
I take a deep breath, then do as I’m told. Energy sparks between us, heat racing through my limbs as they weaken. His fingers wrap effortlessly around mine, enveloping them in the same strength and firmness I experienced at Horseshoe Holler. He pulls me up with a swift tug until I’m seated beside him, staring down at the backs of the massive, gray horses.
Archer stares down at me beneath the brim of his hat. “Comfy?”
I nod, shifting in the seat toward the far right. It’s big enough for the both of us—if we don’t mind touching.
“Sorry about Landrie’s pressuring,” I mumble under my breath. “I really don’t have to do this if it’s breaking any rules.”
“It’s not. And don’t worry about it being unsafe. I won’t let you get hurt.”
Something tells me he’s not just speaking of the hayride.
“Here. Hold these while I give my speech.”
He thrusts the reins in my hands, and I hold them, stunned. “This is definitely not safe.”
“Just don’t whap them on their backs or click your tongue, and they’ll stay still for you.” He leans around to face the others in the wagon behind them, instructing them on the rules before he faces forward again and the group claps.
He takes the reins from me, his fingers brushing mine in the movement. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was the most terrifying experience of my life.”
He chuckles, and his arm moves up and down against my shoulder as he urges the horses forward with a quick flick of the reins. “You’d be a formidable bull rider.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough to get on one of those things.” I pause. “Would it be tacky of me to ask just how much you really do get paid to ride?”
“Not tacky.” His lips curve. “And the paycheck is enough to make it worth it. Almost.” He winks, though I pretend not to notice. “How’s your arm and ankle? Fully healed up?”
“Yeah, luckily. My stitches dissolved, too.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He leans back in the seat, his shoulder pressing against mine as we move out of town and draw closer to the pumpkin patch and hay maze.
“How’s the first day coming along?” he asks.
“Good. Only a few hiccups. How’s yours?”
“Excellent. Nice of y’all to put the advertisements up for Horseshoe Holler and Walker Farms on the back of the wagon.”
It was my idea, but I don’t need the credit. “It’s the least we could do for you guys donating all this hay and time.”
