Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“The ducks have a speed limit?” Now Harrison was well and truly smiling, and it was like that first day of real spring when the world turned green again after all the snow and ice. I wanted to make him grin like that more often.
“Just you wait, Harry. Just you wait.” I gave him a big wink before I paid for the books and headed back to the farm.
Once there, I didn’t have much time to reflect on the beauty that was Harrison Fletcher’s rare smile, because we had dozens of ducks to load up. We finished right before Harrison pulled in by the farm stand.
“Is this attire more appropriate?” He gestured at his cotton polo, jeans, and pricey hiking boots. The jeans were slim-fitting and did sexy things to his ass, even if they weren’t the most practical for farm work. And the boots were nice, but no match for the boggy soil of the rice farm.
“Even your casual is super preppy.” I laughed as I let my gaze roam over him a little more. “Let me get you those boots you borrowed last time, though. You’ll need them.”
Harrison made a face like my nephew when confronted with peas. “Okay.”
“Trust me that the ducks don’t care about your taste in footwear, Harry.” Still chuckling, I dashed over to the farm stand to grab the boots from the collection of them in the porch area.
When I got back, he said, “I’ve told you my name—”
“I know.” No one was in sight, other than the trailer full of ducks, so I gave him a fast kiss, hopefully one that promised better things later. “You’re just too fun to tease.”
“Well, as long as someone’s having fun…” Shaking his head, Harrison followed me over to the truck after he swapped out his boots. “This is how the ducks travel?”
“You thought we’d strap them into car seats?” The truck was hitched to an ancient hay wagon that had been retrofitted to house poultry and was particularly handy for moving ducks.
“Well…no.” Harrison continued to peer intently at the high wire sides and roof of the trailer. Inside, the ducklings and a few assorted older ducks were making a happy racket.
“My dad modified this rig for exactly this sort of purpose. We’ll go nice and slow, and after we carefully unload them, they can get to work.”
“The other farm pays rent for the ducks, so to speak?” Harrison asked as he followed my lead and climbed up into the truck.
“It helps us too, having a place to send them.” I tried not to tense up as I carefully put the truck in gear. I wasn’t a businessman obsessed by bottom lines. I didn’t like to put a number on arrangements like this, reduce it down to contracts and terse negotiations, instead of the reality, which was not so quantifiable. “So it goes both ways. But we’re seldom short of rice here and they’ve got a freezer full of poultry.”
“Nice.”
“Speaking of rice, I put a lentil and rice dish in the slow cooker at my place. I thought we could do dinner there when we get back?”
“Your place? You don’t live in the big house?” Harrison glanced back at the retreating farm.
“Behind it. My grandfather lived the later part of his life in a little cottage that his father built as a newlywed hideaway for him and Grandma. After Grandpa passed, I took it over. A little privacy from the main house is a good thing.”
Harrison coughed, and when I glanced over, he was blushing again. “Indeed.”
“And there you are turning pink again because you’re thinking about sex. You’re almost as cute as the ducks.”
“Almost.” Harrison’s voice had a light edge that I loved. Him relaxed and playful was satisfying, like getting a shy or grumpy puppy to eat from my palm. “You weren’t kidding about slow. I thought I was the only one to go under the speed limit on these roads.”
“Can’t jostle the merchandise,” I teased as I continued to ease our way down the road. “You should know that.”
“I do. I used to enjoy auction days, watching the movers bring in near-priceless artifacts. Perk of the job to see pretty things.”
“I bet.” Outside was bright and sunny, perfect blue skies for our drive, and only light traffic on the country road. Vermont in June was all the pretty I personally needed, but maybe Harrison needed more glitz. “Do you miss being a lawyer?”
“Truthfully, not as much as I expected to.” Harrison’s voice was thoughtful. “I enjoyed my job, but it was rather hands-off. Bookselling can be more engrossing, even if certain things, like employee hiring, are new skills for me.”
“Still no luck on the wine bar manager?” Some of our texts back and forth had been about Harrison’s difficulty finding employees, especially someone to manage the schedule for the planned wine bar.