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)
“Is that a peacock?” Harrison blinked as we made our way across one of the pastures that housed hardier adult chickens. I smiled because surprising him and his mother was fun. The peacocks had more freedom to roam and were still some distance away, over by the woods.
“Yup. They’re vicious. Excellent at keeping predators away from the younger chickens. I lucked into a pair of them a few years back. They earn their feed.”
“Tell me you don’t eat them.” Audrey’s eyes were almost as wide as Harrison’s.
His mouth was clamped shut, almost like he was trying hard not to say the wrong thing.
“Nah.” I laughed because Audrey wasn’t the first to ask that question. And honestly, my family liked to tease me about my attack peacocks, but I’d been into the idea ever since talking to another farmer at a summit at the university. Education in action. “We’ve got cleaned peacock feathers in the farm store, though. My sister Katherine’s husband made some into pens. And Rachel went through a phase where she did some pretty things with their eggs.”
Rachel’s decorative blown-egg phase had been fun, but these days she was more into spinning, and she had been agitating for more wool-giving animals. And whatever hobby she or my other siblings had, she always managed to monetize them, like with the feathers.
“Pens!” Audrey brightened much more than she had at the idea of peacock meat. “Harrison, we should carry some in the store.”
“Perhaps. We are trying to carry as much local stuff as possible.”
“You want to see?” Sensing a sale for Rachel at the store, I turned back toward the buildings. “We can also see what today’s baked goods are.”
“That sounds good.” Harrison nodded, easily keeping up with my strides. He was thin, but strong, the sort of guy likely to be into spin classes or pounding out treadmill miles. The wind caught his hair, ruffling the stylish strands and revealing a few rogue hints of silver. Damn. Staying indifferent toward him would be so much easier if he wasn’t so freaking attractive. “We’ve probably taken enough of your time. I really appreciate it. It’s so nice here. Peaceful.”
“No problem.” My voice was gruffer than it needed to be, mainly because Harrison was smiling up at the sun, as content as I’d seen him, and that attraction I kept trying not to notice flared even brighter.
That he was seeing the appeal to the farm wasn’t the same as seeing the appeal to me or this life, but the way he’d relaxed over the course of the tour went a fair way toward making me less frustrated by him. Made me wonder what else could make him all content.
“Finn!” Rachel called out a greeting as we entered the farm stand. “Tour done?”
“I brought our guests to see the store.” The renovated barn was the oldest structure on the property, a landmark in its own right, and reason enough for some tourists to make the trek. The timber beams alone were worth a lot, and they were complemented by modern touches like colorful pennant lighting and a long service counter where there had been stalls for oxen and horses a century earlier. “Do we still have any of those pens Rodney made with the peacock feathers? These folks are considering carrying them at their bookstore in Burlington.”
“Absolutely.” Rachel made a beeline for a stoneware urn filled with feathers on a shelf with other small items. “If you want a quantity, I can cut you a deal.”
“My little sister.” I gave her long braid a friendly tug as she passed by. “She’s our business brain.”
“And my right hand,” my mom added from her spot in a rocking chair older than either of us. Hastings was snoozing at her feet. Her beading supplies were carefully organized in front of her on a small folding table. Instead of her usual choice of knitting, she was making bracelets and necklaces for Rachel’s stock, in anticipation of the summer tourist rush.
“This is my mother, Beatrix.” I moved closer to put a hand on her shoulder. “Ma, this is Harrison and Audrey.”
“Can you come a little closer?” Setting down her beading, she motioned Harrison and Audrey nearer so she could shake their hands. “You have a bookstore?”
“Yes.” Audrey gave her a warm greeting before settling into the empty rocker next to her. “Finn said you like mysteries?”
“Oh, yes.” The two of them quickly became immersed in a discussion about the latest Agatha Christie movie reboot and various audio narrators for beloved classic mysteries.
Harrison and I drifted away, and watching him explore the store—the intent way he examined each craft item—was an unexpected pleasure.
“This really is a lovely store. Such a nice atmosphere.” His smile was more tentative than it had been outside, and somehow, that made it more charming.