Mom swatted his arm. “What did you do?”

He stared at the woman as she rushed away, keenly aware he didn’t catch her name. “It was the day things went down with Jenna. When you called me, I was running and trying to get to Jenna’s as quickly as I could.”

“Did you really run into her?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t noticed her then—had been too distracted and worried about Jenna—but he noticed her today. Especially her glossy dark locks tussled by the breeze. Her amber eyes that flashed with irritation when she recognized him. The long, trim legs tucked into a pair of cognac leather calf boots.

He was an idiot.

“What happened?” Mom hadn’t uncrossed her arms, a sure sign she wouldn’t drop the topic until she had all her answers.

Images of that moment surfaced in his memory. The event was hazy. Most of what he remembered revolved around his fear for Jenna’s life. “You had passed the phone to Dad, and he was trying to give me updates as I ran back to my car. I remember pulling keys from my pocket and running into someone, mumbling an apology, then continuing on.”

“You didn’t stop to make sure she was okay?” Her tone of censure cut deeper than her words.

“I guess not.” He bit down on his bottom lip, feeling like a creep. Even though he’d been distracted for a legitimate reason, it didn’t excuse his behavior.

Mom dropped her arms to her side. “There’s only one thing to do. Go find her and make it right.”

“Right now?” He looked at the line that finally moved. “I’m not missing the pumpkin patch.”

“You’re twenty-eight years old, not eight.” Mom snorted. “I think you’ll survive.”

He rolled his eyes. “For Myla’s sake.”

“I know, but it’s part of my mom duties to give you a hard time.” She swatted his arm for the second time. “And don’t you roll your eyes at your mother. I’m starting to wonder if I raised you so well after all.”

“Love you, Mom.” Giving her a sideways hug, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Why don’t I go find her after we get our pumpkins, and you can take Myla to the barn for arts and crafts.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan.” She paused and issued him a pointed stare. “Actually, in an ideal world, you wouldn’t have acted like an imbecile and had to apologize in the first place.”

“I know, I know, I know.” He patted his phone in his pocket and thought of the irony—he’d always been the first to get annoyed with people whose phones took over their lives. He’d even gone on a few dates after which there wasn’t a second because the girl had spent too much time scrolling and typing. Now, he’d inadvertently joined their ranks. “It won’t happen again.”

The line progressed, but the wagon filled when there were still five families ahead of them. They’d have to wait a bit longer, but the girl dressed in overalls assured them it wouldn’t be more than ten minutes. He kept silent on the fact he could have walked to the area five times over by now. Things happened that couldn’t be prevented, and the staff had gone above and beyond to make the wait tolerable.

Looking around, his gaze fell on the girl corralling the line, and he noticed a strong resemblance to the girl he’d run into. Change her from a blonde to a brunette and add five years or so and they could have been twins. Were they sisters? Either way, since both girls worked at the farm, she should be able to tell him the other girl’s name.

“I’ll be right back.” He glanced at his mom. “Will you keep an eye on Myla?”

Her eyes crinkled with curiosity, but she didn’t ask questions. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Taking long strides, he walked to the blonde and tapped her shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

She made eye contact with him and smiled. “How can I help you?”

“The lady that helped you pass out the snacks, what is her name?”

With furrowed brows, she hesitated a second before answering. “Paige. She’s the farm’s activity coordinator. Is everything okay?”

He nodded. “I might have been a little rude and wanted to find her to apologize.”

“She’ll appreciate that, but good luck tracking her down.” The girl swept her arm in a wide gesture. “Her position takes her all over the farm on days we’re open to the public.”

“Thanks for the heads up and information.” He started to pivot and return to his mom and Myla, but paused, figuring a compliment couldn’t hurt. “Nice place you all have. My niece is having a great time.”

“I’m glad to hear.”

Once he got back in line, only a few minutes passed before the tractor returned. Myla chose a haybale on the right side to plop down on. His mom sat on one side of her, and he took the other side. The man operating the ride gave instructions through a megaphone. The farm had three rules while on the wagon—remain seated while in motion, keep hands and arms within the frame of the wagon, and have fun.

Myla squealed with delight when the wagon jerked forward then evened out into a bumpy ride. She picked up a handful of loose hay and threw it at him.

He blinked when it hit his face and tickled his nose. Though he should have seen it coming, he’d been preoccupied with thoughts about Paige. Remembering the fun of a good hay fight, he grinned, scooped up what he could, and tossed it at Myla.

His mom clucked her tongue. “I can’t take you two anywhere.”

This time he was prepared and focused, saw the sparkle in her eye and the hand hiding behind her back. He tipped his chin. “What do you have there, Mom?”

“This.” She swung her arm outward and tossed hay at him.

The entire group on the wagon joined in the fun. Peals of laughter rang in the air.

Wes sat back, watching his mom and Myla interacting with their seat neighbors. Their wide smiles and belly laughs filled his heart with happiness. The last few weeks had been rough. Months, actually. If he were honest, he could even say years. Jenna’s addiction and life issues had put a heavy strain on all of them.

He hadn’t seen his mom enjoy herself like this in a long time, and it was long overdue. Even Myla hadn’t shown a hint of attitude since they’d arrived which was a miracle in and of itself.

They arrived at the pumpkin patch and waited their turn to unload. He climbed off first, then lifted Myla onto the ground. Mom was the last of them to get off, and she accepted his hand to support her steps down.

“I wanna go to the back. That’s where all the good ones still are ‘cause no one wants to walk all the way there,” Myla declared with conviction.

He couldn’t fault her logic—it made sense to him—but didn’t want his mom to overexert herself. “Is that all right with you?”

A smile accompanied her nod. “It’s a good day.”

“Then let’s go find the biggest, bestest pumpkin out there.” He grabbed Myla’s hand, and they traveled the path between fields.

Mid-way there, Myla broke free. “I found it.”

He and mom exchanged amused glances. Choosing a pumpkin was like picking a Christmas tree. Half the fun came from the search, and the first one spotted rarely was the final choice. Regardless, they followed Myla to the edge of the field on their left.

Several inches beyond the line, hiding partially behind a large green leaf sat a pumpkin he estimated to be twenty pounds or more. It was symmetrical, and he didn’t see any flat spots from where it had rested on the ground.

Myla ran her hand over the orange flesh. “See, it’s the best one here.”

“It’s very nice, but wouldn’t you like to search around? There might be one even better.” Mom’s gentle prodding fell on deaf ears.

The defiant jut of Myla’s chin told them she’d chosen this pumpkin and no other would suffice. “This one’s perfect.”

He stooped down and waved for Myla to join him. “Do you want to break it off the vine?”

“Yes.” She curled her fingers around the green stem and snapped it. “Can I pick it up?”

“Go for it.” A grin spread across his face while he watched Myla attempt to lift the pumpkin.

He had to hand it to her—she didn’t give up easily. Even when she couldn’t get it to budge one way, she’d step back, observe, and create a new plan. For a six-year-old, she possessed an extraordinary level of tenacity, and his mom captured it all on her camera.

After several minutes, Myla looked up at him. “Can you help me, Uncle Wes?”

“Sure thing.” He bent his arms and slid his hands underneath the pumpkin. Lifted it up into Myla’s outstretched arms while his maintained the brunt of the weight. “Hey, Mom, get a picture of us.”

“Look at Nana, sweetheart.” Mom held up her camera and snapped several pictures. “Got them.”

He winked at Myla. “Want to hold it all by yourself?”

“I… I think you should.” Her face turned serious. “I might drop it, and it could smash, and then I’d cry.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He lugged the beast out of the patch and toward the front where they’d be picked up.

Several hundred feet later, he decided the pumpkin weighed more than his initial assumption of twenty pounds. He didn’t consider himself a weakling, but his arms felt the burn by the time the tractor came back around. Once he climbed into the wagon, he gladly deposited the pumpkin on the plywood floor.

Mom elbowed him. “How much do they cost per pound?”

“More than I’d ever spend on one for myself.” He guffawed and shifted his eyes to Myla who sat on the floor, hugging the pumpkin. “But low enough I’ll gladly pay it to keep that smile on her face.”

“Coming here was a great idea.” Leaning against the red-painted metal frame, she sighed. “We all needed the diversion.”

“There’s still more to come.” He pulled the welcome sheet from his pocket. “I didn’t realize they had so many activities. If I’d have known, we could have come earlier.”

“We’ll have time. If not, that’s an excuse to come back when your dad’s home.” A soft smile settled on her mouth. “He loved this time of year and doing all the activities with you and Jenna. When Myla was born, he was so excited to have a kid around again.”

“I remember all the fun we had.” The memories set him down a path he tried not to wander.

His parents had done everything right, had given them a balanced childhood full of love and adventure without spoiling them. Jenna had everything going for her, so why had she fallen into a lifestyle of substance abuse? In his heart, he knew she was responsible for her own actions, but as her big brother, he couldn’t stop questioning if there was anything he could have done to protect her.

The tractor brought them to where they had first lined up, bringing their hayride to an end.

Myla still had an arm wrapped around her pumpkin and peered at Wes with a toothy grin. “Thank you, Nana and Uncle Wes, for bringing me.”

Wes grinned. His niece could be a spitfire some—most—times, but she was also full of sweetness. “You’re very welcome.”

He bent down and lifted the pumpkin, carefully stepped down from the wagon. Since his hands were full, Mom climbed down on her own and helped Myla out. He hadn’t forgotten what he said he’d do afterward, though it possessed no allure. Did anyone ever enjoy apologizing?

Shifting the pumpkin to a more balanced position, he made eye contact with his mom. “Are you taking My to the craft barn now? I’m going to have this behemoth weighed and pay for it, then find Paige and apologize.”

Mom winked. “Good luck.”

“Funny.” He groaned, then looked at Myla. “Behave for Nana.”

“I will. Promise.” She shifted her attention to her grandmother. “Can we get some popcorn? I saw it when we walked here.”

Watching his mom and niece walk toward the popcorn tent, he laughed and envisioned Myla with a bag of popcorn, sticky fingers from a caramel apple and cotton candy, and a souvenir mug of cider by the time he met up with them again.

He carried the pumpkin to the scale, suppressed his shock at the total price—a fair price per pound, but the pumpkin was even heavier than he’d guessed—and carried it to his car. He popped the trunk, then changed his mind and placed it in the backseat, knowing Myla would want it next to her.

Drawing a long breath, he mentally prepared himself for the conversation to come. He’d barely registered knocking into Paige the day it happened, but now that he’d been made aware, he felt horrible. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have treated her that way and would have ensured he hadn’t done any harm before moving on. Knowing himself, he probably would have exchanged contact information with her and offered for her boots to be professionally cleaned.

Likely, he wouldn’t convince her he wasn’t the jerk he’d come across as and that he wasn’t glued to his phone, but at least he would have done the right thing. Two weeks after the fact, but better late than never, right?

He strolled toward the entrance and flashed his wristband for readmittance. Once the employee waved him through, Wes made a right and began his search for Paige. Ten minutes later he spotted her leaving the restaurant. He sprinted to catch up with her before she got lost in the crowd.

Her face tensed when he stepped in front of her. “You again.”

“It’s me.” He grimaced. Not off to a good start. “Wes Caldwell, but I’m sure you caught that when my mother chided me for my behavior.”

She smirked and accepted his outstretched hand with hesitation. “Paige Hopkins.”

“Hopkins, as in Hopkins’ Farms?”

“Yes. It’s been in my family for generations.”

He didn’t miss the break of ice in her expression. He’d found her soft spot. “This is a fantastic place. My family is having a great time.”

“Good.” She shifted her gaze from side to side, as though seeking an escape. “Was there anything I can help you with? I don’t want to be rude, but I have a lot of work to get done.”

So much for the soft spot. He had to hurry or lose his chance. “I wanted to apologize for what happened on the walking path. That’s not indicative of my usual behavior.”

“It’s fine.” Her bored expression indicated she had her opinion of him set in stone. “As I said, water under the bridge.”

“It’s not fine. It doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I’d like to explain.”

“You don’t have to. Your apology is already accepted.”

Frustration surged through him, spawned by pride. He should accept her forgiveness and let it go, but he wanted her to know there had been extenuating circumstances that day, that he was a decent guy at heart. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she’d already turned to leave.

He expelled a long sigh and stared after her for a second. What else could he do? Unfortunately for him in this case, it seemed his first impression would, indeed, be a lasting impression.