Page 99 of The Mountain Echoes

Last night he called me to say goodnight.

This morning, I got a text message from him:Good morning, beautiful.

And now, I’m smiling like a fool as the afternoon sun stretches thin over the alfalfa fields like butter on hot toast.

It’s cool enough to be comfortable, warm enough to shed my jacket.

Nadine and I walk the furrows side by side, boots crunching on the drying earth, scanning the young stand for signs of stress or creeping weeds.

April is critical when growing alfalfa. Everything we do now determines whether we get a good first cutting come June.

Nadine’s wearing her usual: long-sleeve plaid shirtrolled to the elbows, wide-brimmed straw hat, and gloves that have seen more seasons than some of our apple trees.

“How’s it lookin’?” I ask.

“Not bad,” she replies. “Some yellowin’ near the low spots. We’ll need to fix that. But the stand’s coming in even. If we keep on schedule, this’ll be the best crop since 2017.”

I smile.

It’s good to hear that something’s going right.

Tomas is further up the row, on his knees, inspecting root development and calling out notes to Wes, who’s recording them on a clipboard.

I’ve started relying on that man more than I care to admit.

He’s sharp, fast, and respectful. Even Earl’s taken to him in a way that surprises all of us. For a man who grunts responses, he actually smiles around Wes.

Yesterday, I saw them working the fence line. Wes was swapping out a section of old barbed wire, and every now and then, I’d hear Earl curse and Wes laugh like he’s been at Longhorn forever.

Nadine leans on her hoe and wipes her brow with a bandana. “You’re smiling.”

“The farm looks good. No reason not to smile.”

“You’re smiling like a woman who’s thinking about a man, not alfalfa.”

I pretend to focus on the work at hand, but since I can’t keep my lips from twitching up, I give in. “Guilty.”

Nadine grumbles. “Hmph. Saw that comin’ frommiles away. He’s been sniffin’ around here like a wolf with manners.”

“He’s been…kind.”

“And…he’s hot as sin,” she deadpans.

“Nadine!”

She chuckles. “I may be old, but I’m not blind. Man’s a damn movie poster.”

I duck my head, cheeks warm. “He’s showin’ up. No one has done that for me in a long time.”

Nadine’s face softens, her eyes creasing maternally. “Since Hudson?”

I nod.

“First time your heart’s all in again?”

I shake my head. It’s a defensive gesture. “Maverick and I barely know each other.”

But it’s already too late ‘cause I am indeed all in.