Page 61 of The Bodyguard's Fall

His eyes swept over the paper before he handed it to me.

“Which one are we going to first?” he asked, re-adjusting another straw bale in an effort to tighten the outside of the maze.

“Oh, we don’t need to go,” I waved my hand nonchalantly.

“Why not?” He was eyeing me carefully.

“I thought I’d need to go for inspiration, but my writing is going really well. I’ll be fine.”

“What about our cover?”

I motioned outside the windows to where his brothers and dad were working. “You guys have so much to do this week getting ready for the festival. We can do something next week.” I squinted down at my laptop, typing nonsense and hoping he’d move on.

“Liv,” he said, his voice serious. “We can’t end this hiding in a tractor.”

My fingers stopped typing. I stared at my monitor for a long moment.

“I don’t want to be a burden any more than I already am. You don’t really want to go to any of those things. I’m completely fine. I’ll be⁠—”

“You’re not a burden.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “I am a burden. None of you asked for this.”

“Neither did you.”

There was a quiet compassion in his eyes that threatened to melt me. I looked away.

He leaned forward, waiting for me to meet his gaze once more. When he was satisfied that I was paying attention, he said, “You’re not a burden, Rawlins. A pain in the butt? Absolutely. But never a burden.”

I looked away, wondering why I all of a sudden had the urge to bawl like a baby.

The loader sat idling while I gathered my thoughts. When I finally had the courage to look up, Tate was examining the flyer.

He held it up. “It just so happens that I’ve been dying to try out the trail ride from Archer’s place to the maple farm.”

“You have not!” I protested.

“I have.” He read the paper. “It says right here that it’s a gentle trail ride on a sweet mare that will ride over the hills and through the woods…” He paused, making sure I got the reference. Once I shook my head, he went on cheerfully. “To Carver Maple Farm. A tour is included. It would be a good time to ask questions.”

“I could just call them. I need to be writing.”

“We’re going,” he said, a glint in his eyes. “Just as soon as you get a hit on me.”

“Then you’d better buckle up,” I said, resigned to my fate. “I was going easy on you all those other times.”

“Yes, I’ve been terrified of you ever since you whipped out your thimble of Mace.”

Before I could say anything, he threw me a grin that made me forget what I was trying to say.

“We’ve got a date,” he said proudly. “I can’t wait to tell your brother.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I picked the flyer up off the floor. “Well, alright. If you want to sample the maple syrup and take a walk through the”—I looked at the paper to read how it was written—“fall-kissed trees, then who am I to stop you?”

His eyes shot to mine, a gleam crowding in their depths. “Did you say kiss?”