She looked up at him, her glasses askew. “Do you knowJosh? He’s amazing. He found me a horse named Daisy and—hold on. Mom, can I have your phone? I wanna show this guy the pictures I took.”
Gabe smiled at her, his eyes dancing. “Sure, I know Josh. He’s my cousin.”
“Do you have a horse?” she asked.
“Sadly, no.” He pressed his lips together. “But I like horses.”
Maggie looked him up and down, as if making up her mind about him. “Okay, that’s cool. I’ll vote for you.”
He chuckled. “You may be a little young for voting.”
Unbothered, she flipped through photo after photo of her new equine friend. Before long, she clutched Josh’s hand and tugged. “We’re going to get cherries. Come on.”
He smiled at me and offered Julian a fist bump, then walked with us toward the Hogans’ farm stand where the kids started picking out more produce than they would actually eat.
Several people said hello to Josh, but he only sipped his coffee quietly, giving them small nods.
“You’re popular,” I said, elbowing him gently. It wasn’t nearly the kind of contact my body craved, but it was the best I could get out in public like this.
“I’ve been working on my brand.”
I gave him a once-over, wearing a teasing smile. “Farm-dad chic?”
He stared down at me, intensity radiating off him. “I make it look good.”
Face heating again, I lowered my attention to my feet. Thankfully I was wearing matching Crocs today. The Fuzzy kind for cold weather. My left pink glitter was still missing,but it would surface soon. Sometimes looking for my stuff felt like an archaeological dig.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
My instinct was to brush off the compliment. Make a comment about how I’d just rolled out of bed. If I had, I’d have been lying. This morning I was wearing new leggings and had put on mascara just in case I ran into him.
Rather than fight it, I looked him dead in the eye and said, “Thank you.”
We’d just stepped into the cider donut line when a familiar voice set my nerves on edge.
“Well, well, well.” Bitsy Bramble stepped into view, wearing a long purple coat and a knit hat.
“Certainly took them long enough,” Olive Foster added.
Mavis held up her phone with a boney, shaky hand. “Need a photo of the happy couple for the town Instagram page.”
“No.” I threw a hand up. “We’re not a couple.”
The three of them looked between Josh and me, all wearing knowing expressions. The two of us probably looked like kids who’d been sent to the principal’s office—at least that’s how I felt—rather than actual adults who’d recently had (excellent) sex.
“Why not?”
A wave of panic hit me. Screaming “none of your business” probably wouldn’t be well received, but no other explanation came to mind.
“Ladies,” Josh said, his tone cool. “Can you give me some time?” He raised an eyebrow, and they exchanged a knowing look.
“Sorry,” Olive said. “Forgot what a slow poke you are.Would you mind making a move before I croak? I want to win the betting pool.”
Josh gave them a stern look, crossing his arms.
That was enough to send them scampering off to terrorize other innocent folks.
We stayed for another hour, sampling cheeses and several types of maple candy, then listening to a folk band cover nineties hip-hop hits. Maggie must have told at least a dozen people about her horse, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she told a dozen more before we left.