Page 6 of Frosty the Farmhand (12 Days of Christmas)

5

HARLAN

“ A ll right everyone,” Winston Sterling says with a huge smile. The man is built like an ox with a Stetson on his head and a jovial demeanor that’s hard to ignore. “We are expecting a bigger than normal turnout today, so it’s all hands on deck.” There’s easily three times the number of people I see on any given day here, and I barely recognize anyone except the Sterlings.

Nods and whispers of excitement go up around me, and I do everything in my power to keep my expression neutral instead of my normal grimace.

Something Reid has teased me about on more than one occasion.

“And,” Elora Sterling says, moving to stand next to her husband, “we have a big dinner in the works for everyone after the day is done to say thank you for putting in all the extra time this season.” She’s a slight woman with dark hair that hangs in waves around her shoulders. It’s streaked with gray, the contrast doing nothing to detract from her beauty. They make a stunning pair, that notion made all the more obvious when Winston wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her against him.

“We’ll work in teams throughout the farm, and make sure your radio has a full battery before you get out there,” he says. “We want every single friend and neighbor who steps foot on the grounds to leave better than they came. It’s the holidays, and we want them to experience the magic here.”

I look around because this is not me, but I seem to be the only one fazed by talks of holiday magic.

Nods and murmurs of agreement go up around me and then he’s assigning groups of two and three to different parts of the farm, while others will be pulling visitors around on the tractors. I haven’t heard my name, and my heart stutters in my chest as I realize what’s about to happen.

“Harlan, you and Reid will be in the north lot to start. We need to precut more six-foot trees and we’ll reassess in a couple of hours. Once we feel we have enough cut, you can relocate to the front and help greet folks coming in.” Looking back over the crowd, he adds, “Let’s go spread some holiday cheer!”

There’s clapping and cheering, and I can’t stop my brow from furrowing because these people are always happy.

“I’m impressed,” Reid says, coming to stand at my side. “You managed to get through the entire briefing without scowling.” I sigh and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s see how long you tolerate me today. I got a whole twenty-three minutes in yesterday.”

I snort, the comment catching me off guard as we walk toward the ATV and trailer, throwing our saws in the back. Reid doesn’t fight me for the driver’s seat and is unusually quiet as I drive to the designated field. It’s only when we’re stopped that he turns to look at me, his lips curling up the slightest bit.

I hate that he toned his smile down for my sake, the need to see it stretched brilliantly across his handsome face settling low in my groin. It’s completely unhelpful especially when Reid stops and stares at the trees before pulling a tablet from inside his jacket and climbing out of the ATV.

He’s quiet for a minute, walking the rows and placing little red tags on the ones that we’re apparently cutting before circling back.

“You keep track of that?” I ask and he blushes as he worries his bottom lip.

“It’s something I created to monitor growth and sustainability so we can make sure we’re rotating the right fields and can focus on deficiencies if the trees aren’t maturing like they should.”

“That’s…impressive,” I say slowly as what he says sinks in. It takes a ton of work and foresight to be able to look at all that data and put it into something tangible. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to go about it, let alone update it.

Because I’ve been a jackass, Reid takes my comment and ensuing silence to mean I’m making fun of him when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Let’s just start, yeah?” he says, clearing his throat and putting the tablet back in his jacket. “I’ve marked the best ones to start with.”

“Reid.”

He waves a hand. “It’s fine. I forget no one but me cares about spreadsheets and algorithms—they just want the bottom line.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Red—cut.”

“I think it’s impressive what you’ve done.”

Turning his arm over, he pretends to look at his covered watch. “Look at that. I didn’t beat my record.” His chuckle and attempt at levity is dismal at best.

I don’t like it, but I let it go.

For now.

Instead, I watch as he moves a couple of rows over and starts sawing with an ease that says he’s done this enough to have the movement ingrained. He’s almost elegant as he works, his lean frame belying the strength hidden behind his nerdy appearance.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he says, startling me out of my trance.

“I might just do that.”

The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, but it’s worth it because Reid’s jaw is on the ground in pure and utter shock.

I’m pretty shocked too but I don’t regret it. I’ve deprived myself of such basic human interaction—companionship—for too long. I’m exhausted, and anyway, dwelling on it won’t help anything.

Instead of commenting, I whistle as I walk farther into the trees, making sure Reid has his own view as I squat down and pull the saw across a tree trunk.

“Well, can’t say I hate this turn of events,” Reid muses, and I’m only half sure he meant to say that out loud.

Stranger still is that I don’t hate it either.

Not one bit.