Chapter Four: The Storm & Festival Preparation

Evelyn spent the next few days throwing herself into her work, hoping to shake off Rosie’s words. The rhythm of farm life usually helped clear her mind, but no matter how many trees she pruned or baskets she filled, Luke Donovan lingered in her thoughts.

She had just finished securing a section of fencing when she felt the first drop of rain. She glanced up. The sky, which had been a pale, cloudless blue all morning, had turned an ominous shade of gray. The wind picked up, rustling the lemon trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and distant thunder. A low growl of thunder rumbled in the distance, making her stomach tighten.

A storm was rolling in.

Evelyn cursed under her breath and hurried toward the barn to grab a tarp, her pulse quickening as the wind howled through the orchard. She had seen storms like this before. They could be quick and harmless or tear through the grove, leaving broken branches and ruined fruit in their wake.

As she reached for the tarp, a sudden gust of wind sent loose leaves swirling around her boots. The sky darkened further, and fat raindrops began to pelt against the barn roof. She needed to move fast.

She had just finished covering the most vulnerable trees when the familiar sound of an engine cut through the wind. Turning toward the driveway, she spotted Luke’s truck pulling up, its headlights glowing in the growing gloom.

“What are you doing here?” she called over the rising wind as he climbed out.

He jogged toward her, shielding his face from the rain that had begun to fall harder. “Saw the storm coming in from town. Figured you might need an extra set of hands.”

Evelyn wanted to argue, but truth be told, she did need help. The branches were already swaying violently, and if she didn’t reinforce the stakes, she’d lose part of the orchard.

“Come on,” she said, leading him toward the grove.

Together, they worked quickly, bracing trees, securing loose tarps, and salvaging fruit that had already fallen. The rain drenched them within minutes, cold against their skin, and the wind tugged at their clothes as if trying to pull them off balance. Evelyn’s hands ached as she tied off the last support, her fingers numb from the rain, but she pushed through. The scent of wet earth and citrus filled the air, grounding her.

A loud crack split the sky, and Evelyn flinched as a small branch snapped off one of the older trees, crashing onto the ground just feet away. Instinctively, Luke grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Evelyn exhaled, shaking off the momentary shock. “Yeah. Just startled.”

Luke’s hand lingered on her wrist for a second longer than necessary before he let go. Even through the rain, the warmth of his touch sent an unexpected jolt through her.

Evelyn and Luke were drenched and exhausted by the time the storm began to ease, but the orchard had been spared the worst of it.

Evelyn wiped rain from her face and exhaled. “I think we did it.”

Luke grinned, his soaked hair clinging to his forehead. “Not bad for a last-minute rescue mission.”

They simply stood there for a moment, breathing hard, the smell of rain and lemons thick in the air. Evelyn’s heartbeat hadn’t quite settled, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the storm or the way Luke looked at her—like he saw something in her she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

“Well,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess I should head back into town.”

Evelyn hesitated. For the first time, she found she didn’t want him to leave.

“The Harvest Festival is in a couple of days,” she said, surprising herself. “You should come.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You asking me on a date, Harper?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’m asking if you want to help run a stand. The town always expects fresh lemonade, and after today, I figure you’ve earned your place behind the table.”

Luke chuckled, stepping closer. “Sounds like a deal.”

His voice was easy, but there was something unreadable in his expression, something softer beneath his usual confidence. A flicker of hesitation, maybe. Or maybe something more.

As he turned toward his truck, Evelyn watched him go, Rosie’s words echoing in her mind. Sometimes, things that aren’t planned turn out to be the best things of all.

And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe it.