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“Yes, we are.” Gabe winked at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, those apples are not going to pick themselves.” Wes led them toward a row farther from the barn, explaining that they could take what they needed from several trees already marked for the next picking. “Take the sound ones. Don’t worry if they aren’t pretty. Once Karina cooks them down, nobody’s going to care what they looked like on the tree.”

Mara reached for the nearest apple, but Wes stopped her. “First one doesn’t go in the crate.”

Mara left her hand on the apple and looked at him instead of picking it. “Why not?”

“Russet Hill Orchard rule. First apple you pick in fall, you eat under the tree.” Wes said it with such a straight face that Mara almost believed him.

“Is that actually a rule?” Mara asked.

“It’s my orchard,” Wes said. “So I make the rules.”

Gabe laughed. “Which means Wes made it up when he was twelve, and since his apples are so good, everyone’s gone along with it ever since.”

“I was nine, and it’s tradition now.” Wes looked entirely unapologetic.

Mara twisted the apple free and polished it against the sleeve of her jacket. “I respect anybody who manages to turn something they invented as a child into local law.”

“That’s the spirit.”

She bit into it. The apple cracked loudly enough that both men looked at her, and Mara chewed before giving an approving nod. “Okay. I can see why your rule became a tradition. These are good apples.”

“No, they’re the best apples.” Wes looked pleased.

“Best I’ve ever tasted,” Mara agreed as she took another bite.

“Now you’ve tasted the apples. It’s time to get picking.” Wes nodded. “The picking bags are by the crates. I’d stay and help, but we’ve got another load to pick, and we need to get it done before we lose the light.”

“You carry on. We’ve got it.” Gabe glanced toward the row ahead.

Wes looked between them. “Dana texted me, by the way. She said she might bring the kids over after school if you’re still here.”

“More hands won’t hurt.” Gabe smiled at the thought of his sister and the children.

“Even small ones.” Wes lifted a hand as he headed back toward the barn. “Try not to strip the trees bare.”

Mara waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Gabe. “Does everybody in Bear Creek know what everybody else is doing?”

“Pretty much.” Gabe picked up two of the canvas picking bags and handed one to her. “I did warn you.”

“So you did. And now I get to see it for real.” Mara hooked the strap over her shoulder and watched Wes disappear toward the packing barn.

“Yes, you do.” Gabe slung his own bag across his body.

“Try it.” Mara held out the apple, and Gabe leaned in to take a bite from the side she had already eaten. The ridiculous intimacy of it caught her off guard. “Good?”

“Very.” Gabe’s eyes stayed on hers as he finished the bite.

“I meant the apple.” Mara took it back from him.

“So did I.” Gabe tugged the strap straight. “Come on. We have a bakery waiting for us.”

They worked their way down the row together, the quiet punctuated by the soft thud of apples landing in the bags and the occasional scrape of branches against their jackets. Mara was careful at first, checking each apple before she picked it, but it didn’t take long before she found a rhythm.

After a while, Mara shifted the growing weight of the bag on her shoulder. “I liked working in the bakery today.”

“Even the part where Karina nearly fell asleep standing up?” Gabe reached into the branches for another apple.