Christmas In A Small Town. Kristina Knight
Bonita held up a hand. “Play with the dogs, I know.”
“Train Six,” Camden corrected. Bonita and Calvin exchanged a look.
“We’re going to reopen Harris Farms,” he said after a long moment.
Bonita’s smile grew wider. “He’s been pretending to be retired and complaining about having nothing to do for nearly a year now. Yet on only your second day back in town, you got him to agree to reopen? That is reason enough for a little celebratory shopping. You can help me pick out a few things for Tulsa, because while he’s only going for the stock, I’m thinking I can get him to agree on at least one fancy restaurant.”
Granddad frowned at his grilled cheese. “This is a business trip, Bonnie.”
“Everyone has to eat, Cal. Who says we only have to eat at fast food restaurants?”
Camden watched the two of them bicker and thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. She had been too young to realize whether or not her parents bickered, but her mother and stepfather didn’t. Her stepfather made the decisions about schools and household budgets, and her mother made the decisions about vacations. There was something odd about parents who presented logical, spreadsheeted presentations about everything from the type of shoes needed for tennis to a summer spent sailing in the Caribbean.
“I’d like to work with Six a little this afternoon,” Camden said when they’d agreed on one fancy dinner and the purchase of at least two new collies.
“You aren’t reopening today, and you can’t train a puppy for a competition set for only a few days away,” her grandmother said. “Come on, woman does not live by dog obstacle courses alone.”
Bonita made a good point. And there had been that really cute tunic at the store yesterday. “I guess training could start tomorrow.”
* * *
NINETY-NINE PERCENT of the time, football held zero allure for Levi Walters. What fans saw as a couple of hours of playing on television he knew was actually six hours in the weight room, another three watching film and a minimum of two more hours of on-the-field practice. He’d been out of the game for nearly three years and could honestly say he didn’t miss the grind of the football life.
He did, sometimes, miss the glitz. Red carpets could be fun. The roar of the crowd after a particularly good tackle made him feel alive in a way nothing else did. The women were beautiful.
Although none had made him forget to breathe like Camden had the other night at the Slope.
And he wasn’t going to spend another day thinking about Camden Harris. She was a childhood friend, that was all. He had no business wondering about her appearance in Slippery Rock. Or thinking about what she’d look like out of that designer gown.
Wedding dress, dude, wedding dress. He was not going to get hung up on a woman who ran out on her own wedding. Back to pondering football. The things about it he’d liked. The exhaustion after a particularly grueling workout.
An image of Camden, face pinkish with exertion, body naked, popped into his mind. Levi gritted his teeth and refocused on football.
Signing autographs for kids had been fun. Visiting them in the hospital.
An image of Camden in a nurse’s costume popped into his mind, and Levi angrily sank the shovel he was holding into a pile of manure and hay. He barely knew Camden Harris. He’d talked to her for all of five minutes. What the hell was she doing in his head?
Football never failed to distract him, so Levi ran back through the things he’d liked about the game. The exhaustion that made his mind blank—he wouldn’t mind a bit of that right now. The one-on-one interactions with kids, the roar of the crowd on game day. The bullshitting in the locker room.
Fifty-three sweaty men, some with questionable hygiene to begin with, were definitely better than the two hundred cows he cleaned up after twice a day.
Levi sank the shovel into another pile of manure and hay in the milking parlor. Mucking out the stalls after the herd of dairy cows had done their morning session was one of the times he missed the relative cleanliness of football.
A clump of manure landed on his boot.
In some very specific instances, football was better than being a dairy farmer. Definitely better.
He flicked the clump into the pile in the back of the ranch truck. Brilliant November sunlight peeked over the trees, turning the sky a brilliant blue. Under the smell of manure, there was the scent of dew on the grass, and the leaves were finally beginning to turn. All along the lakeshore, the trees would be laden with deep red and orange leaves with a bit of gold thrown in for good measure. He’d missed the turning of the leaves for four long professional seasons, and for the four before that, when he’d played at the college level.
The few things he missed about football life didn’t compare to the beauty of a country sunrise or getting to watch the slow change of the leaves or knowing that the products that came from his dairy were wholesome and healthy for the people who consumed them.
Football was fun, but the best part was that the money he’d made playing the game ensured the stability of Walters Ranch.
Levi put the last shovel full of hay and manure into the truck bed. He’d drive the load to the composting area. It would be ready for the local home and garden store by spring. He should check with Collin to see if they needed more compost at the orchard, too.
Then he needed to check on the cattle over on the Harris property. He’d been renting several acres from the older couple since making the dairy an organic operation; the cows couldn’t mix with the organic cattle, but that didn’t mean they had no value. Of course, they didn’t have much monetary value, but that was beside the point.
And while he was at the Harrises’, he’d probably run into Camden, could maybe learn why she was back in town after being gone for so long. Maybe seeing her again—hopefully wearing something other than that dress—would get her out of his head.
Another image of Camden, naked, popped into his head. Levi rapped his fist against his head, hoping to dislodge thoughts of Camden—in the wedding gown and out of it—from his mind.
He turned on the hoses to begin the rest of the cleanup.
“I still say you should install a sprinkler system in here so you can do away with the shoveling altogether.”
Levi turned to see his sister, Savannah, in the doorway.
“Yeah, because what everyone wants to breathe are minute manure particles.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe a vacuum and sprinkler system then.”
“If you aren’t going to be helpful, you can just leave.” He took the sting out of the words with a smile. Not that he’d intended any sting to begin with. Savannah could be sensitive about things, though. He hadn’t known how sensitive until she returned to Slippery Rock last summer. She was settling in now. Practically living at the orchard with Collin, and in another few weeks would be married to him.
Levi couldn’t have picked a more perfect man for his sister. It was good to see her so happy lately.
She was dressed for the orchard today, in old jeans and a fleece hoodie, with gloves poking out of the big front pocket. The ripped big front pocket. He tilted his head to the side. The sweatshirt had to be about three sizes too big for her. She looked like a kid with the hoodie hanging past her hips and her skinny legs clad in ripped jeans.
“Is that my sweatshirt?”
“I don’t know. I found it in the mudroom. Collin said to dress warmly. We’re pruning today.”
Another change in his life. Savannah pruning apple trees. Savannah working, in general. She’d waited tables in town for a while then run off to sing in a talent competition. But before returning to Slippery Rock, Levi had never seen her do agricultural work. It was interesting