Raising my glass, I say, “To new opportunities?—”
“Both penis and professional,” Wren deadpans and I snort out a laugh.
“Cheers!”
4
HARLAN
One week.
It’s been onewholeweek and instead of keeping my distance and avoiding Reid, I’ve managed to run into him at least once a day.
In the parking lot.
The shop.
The office.
And, unsurprisingly, he’s stopped to say good morning while I walk the rows of trees.
He’s everywhere with those big blue eyes and adorable smile, a shameless flirt and me the lucky recipient.
But I can’t do anything about it.
Ishouldn’tdo anything about it.
After what happened in Wyoming, it shouldn’t be that hard of a concept to grasp—and it wasn’t until I saw Reid.
He may not be Winston’s son, but heishis nephew, and that’s too close a line to even think about crossing.
“Hey man,” Lake says, sidling up to me as I grab a coffee and donut from the box with the bakery logo for Petit Squared stamped on the lid. I haven’t ventured too much into town, butone bite of the glazed confection and I know I’ll be making a special trip just for these.
“Hey,” I reply, trying not to sound too gruff. Lake Sterling is Winston’s second eldest son after Beau, and while he’s the friendliest of the three, I’ve seen him the least since I started working. He has that happy-go-lucky thing going on with a smile to rival Reid’s. His brown hair and beard are both trimmed, probably for that wedding everyone’s been talking about.
I didn’t get a whole lot of details—mainly because I wasn’t looking for them—but what I was able to piece together is that Lake’s best friend was supposed to marry her high school sweetheart and instead of saying ‘I do,’ she fled the church and didn’t look back.
Lake was apparently the getaway driver.
“You ready for the weekend?” Lake asks, bringing me back to the present.
I nod. “All hands on deck.” Winston Sterling had reminded me three times this week already. Unsurprisingly, the tree farm did steady, if not frantic, business all the way through the holiday.
People come from out of town just to get their tree at the Wintervale Tree Farm. Holiday photos, engagements, and a host of other festive activities were sure to take place this weekend.
“He lives!” Jesse snarks, making a show of throwing his hands in the air as he approaches. He’s the youngest Sterling sibling, leaving their sister, Wren, as the only one I haven’t met. Jesse’s a softer version of the brother standing next to me, and already he’s doubled the number of words I’ve heard him speak since I started here.
“Hilarious,” Lake grumbles.
“What? You took off with the bride and have been holed up God knows where for more than a week,” he says with a smirk. “I was worried.”
Getaway driver and now hiding the runaway bride.
Interesting.
“No, he wasn’t,” Beau says as he walks up and pours himself a cup of coffee. “He won the bet; he just wants to gloat.”
The family resemblance between the three brothers is remarkable. They are tall, with dark hair, chiseled jaws, and strong bodies from working the land in Montana their whole lives. It’s not a hardship being here, even if the only one to catch my eye is undoubtedly the one that would ruin me.
