It’s still too soon to tell if the whole season will be like this. I hope it will. I hope it’ll be enough.
I need it to be enough.
I’m nearly back to the barn when a flash of blonde fur zips by.
“Pumpkin!” I call out, but it’s no use. The golden retriever I adopted last spring is long gone.
Though she’s grown into a giant, she’s still very much a puppy. Everything is a game. There’s always something new to explore.
I can only hope she doesn’t decide to explore the trash bin behind the Snack Shack. Again.
Parking my truck in front of the barn, I hope out and freeze in step.
There, only a few yards away, is Pumpkin. Wagging her tail happily, tongue dangling out the side of her mouth, and mud caking her paws.
“Oh, man.”
It isn’t until I step closer that I get the full picture. There, in a pile of mud, and covered with paw prints is Tricia.
“Fuck.”
I race to cover the distance between us. “Are you okay?”
Tricia glances up at me, somewhat dazed. “I think so.”
I pull Pumpkin back as she leans forward to give Tricia’s face a bath and offer the gorgeous, curvy brunette a hand. She stares at the hand with those clear blue eyes of hers that stir my soul.
“Go on,” I say. “Neither of us bites.”
“I’ll get mud all over you.”
“I’m not afraid of a little mud.” I extend my hand even more. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She places her hand in mine. I ignore how well it fits and the sudden jolt that shoots through me.
Once she’s on her fee, I keep her hand. Just so she’s steady, and lead her toward the trailer parked behind the barn.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“It’s where I stay during the season.” I open the door and help her inside.
“To babysit the pumpkins at night?”
“Something like that.” I chuckle. “The truth is, I have a hell of a commute otherwise.”
“How big of one?”
“A short flight over the mountain.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re right. That’s a hell of a commute.”
I have a sudden, deep urge to pull her into my arms. I shake off the notion.
“You can shower, warm up. I’ll run your clothes through a quick wash.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, I couldn’t?—”
“Pumpkin tackled you on my watch. Let me make it right.” I jerk my chin toward the gravel pad where the trailer sits under the cottonwoods. “Five minutes.”
