Page 2 of Hayrides with Hank (Mountain Men Fall Harder #7)
HANK
I made a deal with an angel. And that angel had me carrying a gigantic metal bear.
That was one of the things I found most fascinating about the brunette I’d first spotted at last year’s Maple Ridge Fall Festival. She was young, so at the time I told myself not to even introduce myself. But I hadn’t stopped thinking about her in the entire year that had passed.
Every lonely night, every woman I saw on TV, in person, or on social media paled in comparison to her. And spotting her again this morning in that adorable black cape, looking like something out of a fairy tale, had confirmed that she was the woman of my dreams.
“I just hang that bear there,” she said, staring at the back wall of her tent.
Unlike many of the other vendors, she had a full tent with a roof and three walls. The front was open, and she’d hung a sign that read Maddie’s Metal Treasures . And that was how I’d known her name last year. Maddie.
“You’re going to hang this on that wall?” I asked, setting the giant metal bear at my feet and pointing to the canvas back wall.
She turned and looked at me, those beautiful green eyes landing on my chest. Did she realize she was checking me out? I hoped that meant she found me attractive.
“Want to see?” she asked.
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. The truth was, I wanted to watch her do just about anything. Luckily, she wasn’t waiting for my answer as I stood there like a speechless moron.
She grabbed a folding chair and positioned it in front of the back wall, then hefted the metal bear. The piece had to weigh at least twenty pounds, and watching her struggle to balance it while climbing onto the chair made my chest tight with worry.
“Maddie, let me?—”
“I’ve got it,” she said through gritted teeth, wobbling slightly as she tried to line up the hanging hardware.
That was it. I stepped forward and steadied the chair with one hand, reaching up with the other.
“Hand it down,” I said. “I’m a foot taller than you.”
She looked down at me, and for a second I thought she might argue. Then she sighed and carefully passed the bear down to me.
“Fine,” she said. “But I could have managed.”
“I know you could have.” I hung the piece easily, making sure it was level. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”
She climbed down, studying the bear’s placement with a critical eye. “A little to the left.”
I adjusted it. “Better?”
“Perfect.” She turned to me with a smile that made my heart skip. “Thank you.”
For the next hour, we worked side by side, setting up her booth. She had an impressive collection—garden sculptures, wind chimes, and decorative panels. All were crafted from metal with an artistic eye that surprised me. Each piece was unique and beautiful in its own way.
“These are incredible,” I said, hanging a delicate butterfly wind chime. “You make all of these?”
“Every single one.” There was pride in her voice. “I’ve got a portable forge in my RV. Not much, but it gets the job done.”
“RV?”
“Home sweet home.” She gestured vaguely toward the road. “Parked behind the festival, with all the other RVs. I travel the circuit, selling my stuff—spring through fall, anyway.”
“What do you do in winter?”
“After the Christmas craft fairs, I find somewhere warm and make inventory for the next season. Arizona, usually. Sometimes Florida.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but I couldn’t imagine that kind of rootless existence. “What about you? Born and raised here?”
“Born, yes. Raised, mostly.” I handed her a small owl sculpture to position on her display table.
“Did four years in the Navy after high school, but I came back.
This place gets in your blood. My brother Beckett feels the same way.
He's the county fire marshal now. He keeps us all in line with his safety regulations and smart mouth. "
They said when the leaves fall in Maple Ridge, the mountain men fall too. I'd heard that saying my whole life, never thinking much of it. But standing here with Maddie, watching the way the autumn light caught in her hair, I was starting to understand what it meant.
“And you work for Jackson’s Orchard?”
“Part-time. I’ve got my own business too—tree removal, land clearing, that kind of thing.
But during festival season, I help out with the hayrides and setup.
” I paused, watching her arrange a set of metal flowers.
“The festival’s been huge for the community.
Brings in tourism, helps the local businesses. Everyone benefits.”
“Including you?”
“Including me.” I caught her eye. “Especially this year.”
She blushed, and I felt like I’d won something important.
We worked in comfortable rhythm after that, talking easily about her travels, my work, the beauty of the mountains in fall. She was easy to talk to, funny and smart, with stories from the road that made me laugh. By the time her booth was fully set up, I didn’t want the morning to end.
“Looks good,” she said, stepping back to survey our work.
“It does.” I took a breath, knowing this was my shot. “Hey, if you don’t have plans, I’d love to treat you to dinner tonight. After the market closes.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I held my breath. Finally, she asked, “Are you asking me on a date, Hank?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Pick me up at seven?”
“I’ll be there.” I grinned, feeling like I could lift one of her metal bears over my head in triumph. “It’s a date.”