“Are you okay, buddy?” he asks, checking their hands for any scrapes.
“I’m fine,” the little boy says, blinking back tears.
“There you go. Shake it off, but let a grown-up know if it hurts later. Sound good?”
The little boy laughs and races off to join his friends.
Lanie appears in the office at last. “Are you surviving or, dare I say, thriving?”
“I think so.” I hold up the ticket clicker. “I kept track so we could match it up to the reservation.”
“Smart thinking.” She flashes a grin and looks outside. “Now that everything is under control, how’d you like to go help Quinn wrangle the kids?”
I start. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’ll be a good way for you to see more of the property.”
“Well… if you’re sure…” I look back out the window where Quinn is holding court with his captive audience of third graders.
As if he can sense me watching, he glances up. Catching my gaze, he flashes a smile that has my heart pounding like crazy all over again.
“What the heck?” I say, grinning back. “It sounds like fun.”
The cold air bites my nose as I step outside. Tugging up the zipper on my puffer vest, I follow the sound of squealing children to where they’re racing across a row of hay bales.
“This is the Hay Run,” Quinn says as I fall into step beside him. “Not to be confused with the Hay Bale Maze.”
“Where’s that?” I ask.
“See that?” He leans toward me, casually resting one hand on my back and pointing with the other. “The entrance is on the other side of the go carts.”
My spine shivers at his light touch—made even lighter by the layers of quilted fabric and fluff sitting between his hand and my skin—and I follow the line of gaze, past a little trail peddle carts roaming around it.
“Oh.” My eyes widen. “It’s huge.”
“All the better to get lost in.” He chuckles. “Hopefully this year we don’t have to fly a drone over the top to find any missing kids.”
“Has that happened?”
“I can neither confirm or deny.” He pulls a face. “Just promise me you’ll never take your car keys in there. We’ve had a couple people learn that the hard way.”
“Noted.”
A sudden series of loudthump thump thumps echoes through the air, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
I instinctively grab Quinn’s arm. “What was that?”
“Apple cannons.” He briefly covers my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Someday, I’d like to have something cooler than bullseyes to hit.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know? Maybe some villains or scary characters.”
I nod, making a note to offer to paint said villains or scary characters if needed later. I have a double major in marketing and art. It would be nice to useoneof those skills now that I’m out of the city.
Before I can ask which characters he’d want, the rumble of a diesel engine comes over the crest of a hill. Dylan, another Carver brother, waves from his perch atop an ancient-looking tractor, as he pulls a trailer stacked in hay and a handful of children behind him.
“Have you been to the Snack Shack?” Quinn asks.
