I’m leaving the general store when I notice a sign outside the Francis’ farmhouse. “Strawberry Picking Palooza, NEXT WEEK”. I read the words over and over again, feeling like an idea is on the verge of exploding in my head. It all comes to me at once. The Francis’ have been doing this event for years now, and it brings in tourists from all over the state. Thousands upon thousands of tourists who want to come get a taste of the small town, rural life and who want some of the biggest and juiciest strawberry’s you can find.

I have an idea, and I have absolutely no idea if it’s going to be enough, but it’s an idea, and I don’t have any time to waste.

I meet Jennifer and Lauren at the bakery ten minutes later, and they are both still rubbing the sleep from their eyes when they arrive.

“You’re going to give us extra time off for this, right?” asks Lauren as she stumbles in, eyes squinted against the light.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” Jennifer says quietly.

I motion for them to sit at one of the round tables for customers and sit across from them. I clasp my hands in front of me and bite my lip, looking for the right way to approach this.

“Oh no,” says Lauren. “That is a lot like the look you got when you thought it’d be ‘super fun’ to spend a hundred hours decorating the bakery for Christmas.”

“This is totally different,” I say.

“It’s not just me, right?” Lauren asks Jennifer. “You’re scared too, aren’t you?”

“A little,” admits Jennifer.

“Guyyys, come on. Just hear me out.”

Lauren reaches to grab Jennifer in a tight hug, pressing Jennifer’s startled face into her boobs.

“Let me go,” says Jennifer, voice muffled by Lauren’s busty embrace.

“Did you just bite my boob?” asks Lauren, letting Jennifer go suddenly.

Jennifer’s face reddens. “I wasn’t--I just--”

“Annnyway,” I say. “I know how we’re going to save the bakery. We’re going to set up a tent by the Francis’ farm to sell everything people need for strawberry shortcake next week. Think about it. Fresh strawberries. Fresh shortcake. Freshly made whipped cream.”

“I just thought about it and gained two pounds,” says Lauren. “Oh, and an ulcer. Am I too young to get ulcers?” she asks no one in particular.

“Probably,” Jennifer answers helpfully.

“So you want to set up a tent,” says Lauren slowly. “But you keep saying the word ‘fresh’. Last time I checked, the Francis’ farm is about ten minutes from here. Are we going to be driving like crazy people to bring freshly baked shortbread from the bakery to the farm?”

“No,” I say, my smile widening. “We’re going to bring our ovens to the farm!”

They both groan.

A man in a fancy suit is leaving Reid’s house when I come home. My first thought when I see the expensive clothes is that my parents are over, but the man is far too young, and when I pull into my driveway, I see he’s a large man with fiery red hair and a thick beard. Definitely not my father. But what the hell is Reid doing talking to a guy like that?

I’m considering going over to his house and asking when a Bentley pulls into my driveway. The black bodywork of the car is polished to a mirror sheen, and the chrome is dazzling in the midday sun. Alfred and Collette step out of the car, looking toward me. I realize if Reid sees and decides to come out right now, he’s going to step out of his house looking like a mechanic. He’ll be wearing jeans and either no shirt, or a dirty one. He’ll probably even have grease smeared on his body. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

I try to walk back to my house with as much calm and dignity as I can manage, all the while hating that my parents still have the power to make me go through so much trouble to impress them. I can’t believe I’m bending over backwards to maintain this ridiculous little lie I should never have begun. Not for the first time, I consider just calling the whole thing off and telling them the truth. But now the possibility of saving my bakery has me wanting to wait just a little longer. That, and the distant hope that I could be pregnant.

I shove all the doubts into the back of my head and force a smile. “Where have you guys been?”

“Well, your fiancé was kind enough to come by and warn us about the issue you were having,” says my father. Even now, he’s craning his neck to look past me toward the house, probably hoping to spot Reid or Roman. “It has been a while and we just thought we’d come make sure you were okay.”

“Reid’s not here,” I say pointedly.

As if he is literally the god of bad timing, Reid freaking Riggins chooses that moment to stroll out of his garage, shirtless and gorgeous. I might have been able to get my parents’ attention diverted in time if he hadn’t dropped a wrench and proceeded to yell back to Roman at the top of his lungs to come look at the ducks.

The ducks. Really? Is his life so boring that three ducks mulling around his front lawn is enough reason to summon the whole Riggins clan ?

“Is that…” starts my father.

“Reid?” asks my mother quietly.

The shock and disappointment is obvious in their voices. Reid has a dirty red rag tucked in the waistband of his jeans and his smooth, muscular frame is dotted with smears of oil. He looks exactly like what he is. A mechanic. My parents don’t need any help figuring it out.

My father shakes his head at me, narrowing his eyes. “I should have known.”

“Why?” asks my mother. “Why would you lie to us?”

I turn on them. “Why would I lie to you?” My eyes are threatening to fill with tears, but I focus on the anger I’ve held for so long instead. They don’t deserve to see the sadness they’ve caused me. They can have my anger. Every last drop of it. “Let’s see,” I say dramatically, holding up my hand to count off a list on my fingers. “You two have always rooted for me to fail, you’ve never approved of anything I chose for myself, you probably wish Vanessa had come first so you could’ve just fucking stopped while you were ahead!”

“Sandra, lower your voice,” whispers my mother.

Of course. I lay my feelings out on the line for the first time in my life and all my mother can do is think of how embarrassing it is to be shouted at by her daughter in the middle of nowhere.

“That’s not true,” says my father. “We don’t want you to fail. We just wish you would see reason. There’s no reason for you to live in a filthy place like this. You’re better than these people, Sandra.”

I shake my head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s where you’ve always been wrong. The people here are good people. They work hard and they care about each other.”

“Exactly, dear,” says my father. “They work hard. You really think we want that for our daughter?”

“No. I know you don’t. That’s the problem. You want me to just waste away and spend your money. I never wanted that for myself and you guys never cared what I did want.”

“Honey,” says my mother. “Listen to yourself. You’re saying we didn’t care because we didn’t want you struggling away the best years of your life just to make enough money to buy a place like this?” she gestures toward my house without even looking.

“I’m saying you didn’t care because you never bothered to see that I’m not like either of you. This place is mine. I was proud as hell when I was able to buy it, okay? Maybe you can’t see that. Maybe it looks like a pile of sticks to you, but it’s mine, and I earned it. That means the world to me.”

My parents both focus their gaze somewhere behind me. I hear his footsteps and turn to see Reid approaching. The look on his face is not kind.

“You okay?” he asks, squeezing my shoulders and kissing my cheek.

His rough whiskers tickle my skin and the wonderful manliness of his smell fills my nose. In his arms and in his presence I feel safe. Protected. Whole.

“I’m okay,” I say softly, hoping I can make the words true if I try hard enough.

“We trusted you,” says my father.

“Yeah, well, I guess you can’t trust every asshole with greased hair and buttons on his shirt.”

My mother makes a shocked face and my father scowls. “I told your father we shouldn’t have come.”

My father shakes his head, looking at me sadly. “I wanted so much better for you, Sandra. So much better.”

They move like they’re about to get back in the car when Reid steps between my father and the door, planting a firm hand on the car and keeping my father from opening it.

“No,” says Reid. “You’re not leaving yet.”

My father actually tries to push past Reid, but he might as well be shoving against a tree for all the good it does. Reid waits patiently for my father to give up, straightening his suit and crossing his arms petulantly. My mother is halfway in the car, apparently frozen between her decision to get in or get out and try to help. She settles for something in between, peeking over the top of the car at the standoff between Reid and my father.

“You’re not leaving,” continues Reid, “until you have a chance to know what an amazing fucking daughter you have. Your daughter owns a bakery. I’m guessing you didn’t know that by the look on your face. Yeah, she owns her own business and she does a damn fine job of it too.

And you know what? She did it without your help. Do you even realize how incredible that is? Do you get how many people would take the easy handout you’re offering? You should be proud as fucking hell of your daughter for the woman she is. If you can’t see that, neither of you deserve to be here. So you can get in your fancy fucking car and go back to your bullshit excuse of a life.”

Reid practically shoves my father in the car and slams the door. My father starts the engine and hastily backs out, turning as quickly as he can and spinning the tires in his rush to get away from Reid and his anger.

I stand speechless, mouth open as I look at Reid, who is sucking in heavy breaths and frowning. He just defended me. No one has ever defended me, not like that, and especially not to my parents. I’ve always tried to stand up to them and get my point across to them, but it never worked. They never saw who I was or even listened to me. Even if a word of that didn’t sink in for them, I can’t stop hearing it all over and over again in my head.

“You really think all that?” I ask, smiling shyly.

“Every word of it.”

I kiss him then, with the fading afternoon sun warm against my neck and his body pressed to mine. His strong, possessive hands splay across my back, taking me in and making me feel small and vulnerable in all the best ways, in the ways that make me know I can let my guard down around him. I can be the girl I never got a chance to be. I can be vulnerable. I can be all the things I couldn’t because he’s here to protect me. To keep me safe and to care for me.

I kiss him knowing all of that is true down to the last syllable because I can feel it in his touch and see it in his eyes. And for the first time, I know with blinding certainty and without even the faintest glimmer of doubt that I want to have his baby. I hope beyond all hope that it’s already growing inside me, and if it’s not, I want to keep trying.

“Reid Riggins,” I say softly, pulling away and looking up into his eyes. “You might just be the man of my dreams.”

He smirks down at me. “Sweetheart, if I came out of your dreams, I’d hate to see your nightmares.”