Harvest of Love: Insta-Spark Collection

I reached for the file again, only to feel the prickle of unease begin at the back of my neck. The walls around me felt as if they were closing in. My breathing picked up. Without even thinking, I stood, grabbing my purse, one thought on a constant loop in my head.

I needed to get out of there.

Rushing by Lynn’s desk, I called over my shoulder. “Cancel my meetings. I’ll be out the rest of the day.”

Her shocked face as the elevator doors shut normally would have amused me, but right now, it only added to the swell of panic I felt building again.

Reaching my car, I yanked open the door and slipped in, shutting my eyes and leaning my head back against the headrest.

The underground garage was dim and deserted—all the owners of the empty vehicles busy in the building above me.

I inhaled deep, calming lungfuls of air, feeling myself relax. Once I was composed and steady, I started the car and pulled out of the spot. When I exited the dark garage and felt the warm sun fill the interior of the car, I sighed in relief.

I turned up the music, the thumping sounds of Shinedown echoing in the small space. I glanced left and right, and with no destination in mind, turned to the left, and started to drive.

Steel and concrete gave way to green. Cement roads and red lights turned into long, winding lanes of open spaces. Brake lights disappeared, and soon it was as if it was only me on the deserted roads. Late-summer sun bounced off the windshield, and I turned off the air conditioning and opened the windows to let the air—the cooler, fresh air of the country—inside. I inhaled deeply, feeling as if I could breathe for the first time in hours without restriction. I drove aimlessly for a while, finally pulling over to the side of the road and looking around. Miles of farmland stretched around me. The horizon was dotted with barns and houses. Fields and pastures were all I could see.

I had no idea where I was, and for the first time, I wished I had bought a newer car with a nav system. I dug into my purse, cursing when I discovered I must have left my phone on my desk in my panicked flight to get out of the office, so I couldn’t use Google Maps the way I normally did.

I huffed out a sigh and pulled back onto the road. I would have to find a store or gas station and ask for directions. I drove a little longer, feeling relieved when I saw a long, low log building come up on the right side. I pulled in, happy to see what looked like a small store with a restaurant attached. The sign, gently swaying in the late afternoon breeze, simply read “The Harvest Table.”

A deep-rust–colored pickup truck was parked to one side, and there was one other car closer to the doors. Otherwise, the place looked deserted. The door opened and a woman came out, followed by a tall man who was carrying a box of produce. He was smiling and talking as he loaded the box into her trunk. He was dressed in jeans and a faded T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, emphasizing his biceps. He wore a rust-colored apron that matched the color of the parked truck. It tied around his torso, and the same name as the sign was emblazoned across his chest. As he stood talking, he ran his hand through his hair, the golden-brown color bright in the sun. It was short on the sides but longer on the top, spiked upward, adding even more inches to his height. He was lean, with long legs, towering over the woman he was talking to. His biceps flexed and moved as he used his hands to demonstrate something, making them both laugh.

He opened the driver’s side door, waiting until the woman slid in, then bent down and brushed a kiss across the woman’s cheek. He shut the door and stepped back, standing there until she pulled away, sending her off with a wave. He walked back to the store, pausing before he went in, looking in my direction.

“Come on in,” he called. “We don’t bite.” Then he grinned—a wide, toothy smile that was devastatingly wicked. “Unless you want.”

He disappeared inside. I sat staring for a minute, then grabbed my purse. I was hungry and hoping the restaurant was open, or at the very least, maybe I could pick up some fruit to snack on.

I entered the building, the wooden door closing slowly behind me. The store was cooler, the light subdued to protect the contents. Rows of beautiful produce met my gaze, the colors of the vegetables intense in the diffused light. All around me were the scents of fresh vegetables and fruit. Bright red peppers stacked beside green zucchini and yellow beans were a feast for the eyes as well as the nose. I picked up a basket and wandered around, picking up vegetables and fruit and admiring the entire store. I paused at a set of double doors at the end of the store, glancing through the glass at the restaurant on the other side. Small, intimate, and homey—it held about twenty tables, all covered in gingham-checked cloths. Wide windows and vivid prints on the exposed logs made it a lovely space. I didn’t see anyone inside, so I assumed they weren’t open. I turned back, stifling a gasp when I realized the man I had seen outside was now standing a couple of feet away from me.