I could see the light on in the kitchen and a dark shape moving in the window. I hoped it was my dad making coffee and not my mother being nosy.
“I’m going in to have some coffee. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” I told him, still unsure why I’d agreed to run with him.
“Coffee?” he asked, completely out of breath now. “I happen to love coffee.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He brightened.
I almost felt sorry for him.Almost. “Well, Cubhouse Coffee on Main Street makes a mean latte. They probably even have matcha or oat milk—whatever you city folks are into. You should try it.”
Then I accelerated to my normal speed and took off toward the back porch.
“I’ll do that!” he called happily, just as the screen door snapped closed behind me.
I made sure to wipe the smile off my face before I entered the kitchen.
Ian was waiting for me the following morning just off the highway, next to the chain strung across the tourist entrance to the orchard.
I’d half expected him not to show, and felt slightly annoyed that I’d been proven wrong.
He was still sporting his sunglasses, even in the near darkness at 6:00 a.m. With the toboggan missing, his dark hair was on display, the glossy strands swooping back dramatically in an obviously expensive cut. Despite the threat to grow a beard, his jaw appeared freshly shaved.
I caught a whiff of something clean smelling as I approached, like expensive bodywash that reminded me of warm spice and spruce boughs at Christmastime.
“Good morning.” He smiled in greeting.
“Mornin’,” I offered warily.
All day yesterday, I’d wondered why I’d agreed to this and regretted my decision. In fact, I’d had half a mind to just not show up this morning. But that wasn’t who I was. I couldn’t purposely break my word and leave someone waiting. I didn’t particularly care what this outsider thought of me, but I didn’t wantanyonethinking Joan Judd was unreliable. Apparently, being a pampered Californian didn’t exclude him from that.
“We’ll do a two-mile loop today. Nice and easy. Practice keeping your pace even with your breaths. You ready?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
True to his word, Ian kept his yapping to a minimum. It was only after we’d warmed up for about a quarter of a mile that I told him to stop swinging his arms so much and conserve his energy. He listened, and on we went.
I kept our pace slow. He could work on getting faster later, if he wanted. Our current goals were distance and improving his stamina.
Twenty-six minutes later, we returned to where we’d started. I planned on getting in another four miles after I got rid of my giant pine-scented burden.
“Now that you’re warmed up,” I told him, “sprint the length of the Clarks’ driveway up to the General Store. Then take tomorrow off. I’ll see you back here on Thursday. Same time.”
“Sure. I can do that,” he replied, but I’d already turned back down the path toward the orchard.
“Do I get to know your name yet?” he hollered. “What do I even call you?”
“‘Hey, you’ works just fine.” Then I threw my hand up in farewell and used the next forty minutes to review my upcoming tasks for the day. More movie equipment had arrived in the south field, and I had pruning to do on the rows of Honeycrisps nearby. We’d be wrapping up the last of the pressing this season and freezing the remaining apples we’d managed to pick before the first frost.
Thursday morning’s run with Ian went much the same. He didn’t talk a lot, and for that I was grateful. He even managed to shave two minutes off his time. It wasn’t uncomfortable to run with him, exactly, but I was aware of his big body next to mine. That evergreen scent lingered, and his steady footfalls didn’t ever let me forget he was there.
But I still had that nagging feeling that I couldn’t figure out his angle. The reason why he’d wanted to run with me hadn’t revealed itself yet, so I was distrustful. I continued withholding my name, which at this point, was more of a game than a battle of wills.
Candace, Mercer, Brady, and I got the Christmas tree lot set up on Friday in time to welcome orchard visitors for the weekend. I briefly helped out in the refreshment stand selling hot chocolate and homemade marshmallows with my mother, but mostly, Mercer and I handled wrapping and hauling trees for locals and leafers to take home.
On Sunday, I ate dinner with my family, as usual. Brady’s girlfriend and my friend, MacKenzie Clark, joined us, and Candace gave her the update on the movie. Filming was set to begin on Wednesday. I had the scheduleand reminder in my email, and I knew which areas of the farm to avoid. There was plenty to keep me busy without running into the camera crew.
Everyone in town seemed pretty excited about the prospect of seeing a movie star. I’d heard reports in the Kirby Falls Facebook group about a few sightings. I’d helped some clueless assistant with his flat tire the other day on my way into town. He’d been nice enough, I supposed.
