Falling Inn Love: A Pumpkins and Proposals Novel (The Harvest Ranch Romance Series Book 3) Read online

  Falling Inn Love

  The Harvest Ranch Romance Series

  Amberlee Day

  Published by Appletree Cove Publishing, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FALLING INN LOVE

  First edition. October 5, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Amberlee Day.

  Written by Amberlee Day.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Don’t leave Harvest Ranch just yet! | Click here to grab the next Pumpkins & Proposals romance!

  Also by Amberlee Day

  About the Author

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  Chapter 1

  Kate O’Halloran clutched her duffel bag to her chest. The way old Pat Newel drove his pickup truck over every pothole on the backroad to Harvest Ranch, she thought the duffel might serve as an airbag in a pinch. She highly doubted this old truck had them. She also clenched her teeth together in case one of the rougher potholes made her bite her own tongue off. She’d read that could happen.

  “Nice you could come home to help your parents run the inn, Kate,” Pat said in his slow, Southern Virginia accent. “The Cornucopia hasn’t been the same since you went off adventuring. What’s it been, ten years, on and off?”

  “Fourteen,” she corrected, her lower lip pouting. How was she already thirty-two? “But I guess just ten if you don’t count college.” Which she didn’t. Her sociology major hadn’t helped her with jobs or understanding human relationships. Both her career attempts and her love life were a string of increasingly humiliating disasters that she’d rather forget, especially the latest one. The wound was still less than a day old. And she definitely wouldn’t call where she’d been “adventuring.”

  “Well, I know they appreciate you stepping in,” Pat continued. “They’ve been looking forward to this cruise for a long time.”

  “Glad I was available to come,” she managed to say in a chipper voice, but mentally she winced. Yes, she was super-duper available, though when they’d first asked, she’d thought of it as a nice vacation back to Harvest Ranch. At least she could still sound upbeat about it.

  The truck went over another pothole, and Kate’s brain shook in her head like something had come loose. She gripped the bag tighter.

  “This road seems to get worse all the time,” Pat said, though he didn’t sound too concerned about it. “Better than taking the highway, with all those tourists and DC folk moving down this way. You take your life in your hands driving there.”

  “I bet.” Heck, why take the well-maintained highway when you could take this one? She tried not to let her teeth rattle. She glanced over at Pat long enough to notice his saggy skin bounced with the car, and despite her despair, she had to turn away not to smile. Fortunately, they were getting close to Harvest Ranch and the road should be improving. “Thanks so much for picking me up, Pat.”

  “Not a problem. When Sharon called to see if I’d swing by the airport and get her girl after picking up the hay, I was happy to have the company.”

  Kate twisted to look out the back window, where hay was piled so high in the truck bed that she couldn’t see the top. She’d bet they’d been leaving a trail of loose bits all the way from the airport, too. “Is this all for your animals, Pat?”

  “Heavens to Betsy, no, it’s not for my farm. This is for the festival grounds, my second trip this week. Those committee folks like to decorate in hay bales and pumpkins, you know.”

  A genuine smile tickled the corners of Kate’s mouth—the closest she’d come to feeling happy in the past twenty-four hours. Yes, even if she’d lost her job in Pennsylvania—and Steven, the lunkhead she’d tried to convince herself was “the one”—she couldn’t wait to be home. Hugs from her parents, spending time at the Cornucopia Inn, getting to go to the Harvest Festival. Nothing in the world compared to October in Harvest Ranch.

  “Are you excited for the festival to start?” she asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Pat said. “Who doesn’t like the festival? And this year we have a big celebrity coming to town to grand-marshal the parade.”

  “Don’t we always?” Probably that weatherman from channel five, the one who was always smiling. Back when she was growing up, he was the grand marshal at least every third year.

  An extra-big bounce jolted her so hard she had to shake her head to clear her vision. Between the bouncing, gritting her teeth, and the previous day’s rush to put everything she owned in storage, her head was aching. What was worse, she’d decided not to tell Mom and Dad what had happened until they got back from their trip. Just when she needed sympathy and hugs, she’d have to put on a smiling face. Why spoil their good time? It wasn’t fair to them, and she wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to confess her most recent disaster. As far as her parents were concerned, she was on a promising career path and engaged to be married. Not that she was ever really engaged, but she’d been pretty close-ish. Let Mom and Dad think it for another couple of weeks before she burst their bubble.

  “Nice that big-city job and your fiancé could do without you for a couple of weeks,” Pat said with a wink her way. He pronounced fiancé like it rhymed with séance.

  Kate winced again. “You know about that?”

  “Oh, sure. Sharon and Bill—well, your mom and dad, they’re proud as anything that you’re doing so well up north. Everyone in town’s just as pleased as punch for you, Kate. Nice to see a local girl go out and make a good life for herself, though if you ever want to come back to live in Harvest Ranch, we’d love that too. Get to see you raisin’ your babies right here where you growed up. Hey, you feeling alright, there?”

  The more Pat talked, the worse her headache grew and the more the shaking was affecting her stomach. She pushed the bag into her belly. “I’m fine, thanks. Just a few more minutes, right?”

  “Yep, there’s the Welcome to Harvest Ranch sign. And that there looks like a tourist, probably here early for the festival.”

  Sure enough, a rental car stopped at the side of the road next to the freshly painted sign. She’d bet it was a rental, anyway. Her year spent working at Alamo had taught her what to watch for. But that guy standing leaning against his car and talking into his phone? Definitely a tourist.

  A dog leaned out the rental car window, and Kate could have sworn it stuck its tongue out at her. Nice. Just what she needed to highlight arriving home as a failure. Even if she was the only one in town who knew she’d left yet another disaster behind her, she felt it deep down in her bones. And heck, maybe that tourist’s dog sensed it, too.

  ***

  “What do you mean, you’re in Las Vegas, Brenda Lee? You’re supposed to be here.” Freddie Prescott looked around from his spot next to the Welcome to Harvest Ranch sign. It was like he was in some farming documentary, and everywhere he looked were fields, rolling hills, a
nd the quaint little town up ahead. It was enough to make a New Yorker want to throw up. “When you said ‘the next plane out,’ I trusted that you meant it.”

  “Keep your shirt on, Freddie.” Brenda Lee Mitford’s Southern drawl had more than a touch of irritation. “It’s just a detour.”

  “Since when is taking Lester on a detour to Vegas a good idea?” Taking her husband where he could gamble was like taking an alcoholic on a wine-tasting tour ... not ideal. After four years of representing her on this celebrity author journey, Freddie knew pretty much all of their messy secrets.

  “Actually, Lester decided to take that detour without me, as far as I have deduced. He’s gone, and the last charges on the credit card were a one-way ticket to Nevada and a line of credit at the Bellagio.”

  “Ah, shoot. I’m sorry, Brenda.” Leaning on the car, Freddie was unfortunately in the perfect position for Brenda Lee’s labradoodle, Pumpkin, to lean her head out the open back window and lick his ear. For some reason, the dog couldn’t get enough of Freddie, though he’d already had more than enough of her. “Knock it off, Pumpkin.”

  “What are you saying to my baby?” Brenda Lee demanded.

  Whoops. If Lester was the weak link in her chain, Pumpkin was the charm. And as Brenda Lee’s literary agent, Freddie knew that the number one rule was keep the client happy. “Nothing, she was just eating something she shouldn’t.” Freddie pushed the dog away again, scooting to get out of her reach. “Don’t want the poor thing to get sick.”

  “Pumpkin has a very delicate constitution, Freddie. You need to watch her closely.” Brenda wasn’t normally difficult to work with. Maybe a little dramatic, over the top, and she occasionally led with her ego, but this dog was proving to be a problem. He’d never had full charge of Pumpkin like this, and he was learning that Pumpkin was much more of a diva than Brenda.

  “I’m taking great care of her,” he promised, pushing the dog’s head back into the car, just to have her pop it back out. “I’m assuming that your lead on Lester means you’re almost on your way. Please say you’re on your way.”

  “I’m afraid not. Honestly, I’m trying, but these people just don’t make it easy. It’s like Las Vegas wants to keep the gambling addicts here, though I would think there would be a law against it. As soon as I find him, I will be on my way.”

  His phone beeped, and he moved it from his ear to check the text: Dad.

  Don’t forget, Freddie. Prescott Agency has a lot riding on this promotion trip. Don’t let me down.

  Freddie groaned. Like he didn’t already know that. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and put the phone back to his ear. “Today’s Thursday, Brenda. You have a dinner to attend tomorrow night; then your first real event is the parade Saturday morning. You can’t miss that. You’re the grand marshal, for pity’s sake.”

  “Do you think I want to miss it? I have literally been dying to visit there; you know that. Four best-selling books in the series, all set in Harvest Ranch, and I’ve still never set foot in the place. It’s embarrassing!”

  She sighed, and for a minute he did feel sorrier for her than for himself. Another lick from Pumpkin, however, and suddenly his agent hat was back on. “One thing, Brenda. You know you can’t let anyone know you’re in Vegas, and especially why you’re there. A gambling scandal would put a tarnish on the wholesome, small-town brand we’ve built up. It would be a publicity nightmare that the Love at Home series might never recover from.”

  “I’m plenty aware, but don’t worry. No one will recognize me here. I’m just dressed as me, no glitter and glam. You have all my wigs, my country skirts and jewelry. Everything that normally makes me stand out in a crowd. Heck, you even have my makeup suitcase.”

  He chuckled, because her makeup kit was indeed a suitcase. “And don’t forget, I also have your dog.”

  “Exactly! All part of the Brenda Lee Mitford brand,” she said in her most Southern belle voice, lowering an octave when she added, “But you’d better take good care of my baby.”

  “I will take excellent care of her until you get here, tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do my best, but you know this is where I need to be, Freddie. Lester may be difficult, but he’s my husband. I can’t go playing the perfect country woman if my husband’s in danger. And our savings.”

  “I know.” And really, he did. He just didn’t like it.

  “Meanwhile, you go get situated in that Cornucopia Inn. I’ve been reading all about it, and it’s going to be the perfect focus of my next book. Wait till you see it. It’s the most charming place in Harvest Ranch.”

  Freddie rolled his eyes at the thought, just as a hay truck went by. Bits of its load flew in the air like country confetti. He moved the phone away just before he let out an enormous sneeze. Sniffling, he returned to the phone. “I can’t wait to see this Cornucopia Inn, Brenda. Absolutely dying with anticipation.”

  Chapter 2

  Kate pulled her bag through the Cornucopia Inn’s heavy revolving doors—swoosh—to an unexpectedly empty lobby. “Hello?” Her greeting echoed off the worn hardwood floors and coffered wood ceiling. She dropped her heavy suitcase on the faded oriental rug that featured a design of cabbages and peaches, and she dinged the counter bell before rounding the desk to the back offices. She pushed open the door marked “Staff Only.” “Anybody home?”

  Her mother, Sharon, burst into the office from the residence door at the same time Kate entered. “Kate! You made it.”

  Kate hugged her, ruffling her fingers on the neat grey head. A mom hug was exactly what she needed right now. “Hi, Mom. Ooh, you feel good. And your hair is shorter. I like it.”

  Mom pulled back, running her fingers through it. “Do you like it? I wanted something cool and easy to care for on the cruise.”

  “Is it supposed to be hot?” Kate asked. She would have liked a longer hug, but Mom scooted over to the table and opened the laptop. Her parents’ office wasn’t tidy, that was for sure: papers were stacked haphazardly on the large oak desk, the pencil holder was knocked over, and there was even an old coffee cup sitting by the keyboard. Strange, it wasn’t normally such a mess here.

  “Oh, good. Looks like the plane’s still on time. And of course it’s going to be hot,” Mom said, sounding mildly exasperated but smiling. “It’s the Bahamas, after all.”

  “True,” Kate said, distracted. “Uh, Mom, what’s with all ... this?”

  Mom paused, barely looking at the messy room before picking up her purse from the chair and rummaging through it. “Oh, you know. We’ve been busy getting ready for our trip. Not so much time for tidying.”

  “Yeah, but ...” Kate was going to say but what am I supposed to do with this mess? when a thumping and bustling from the residence was followed by her dad, Bill, appearing, carrying two large suitcases and two smaller ones.

  He didn’t put them down, but he grinned when he saw his daughter. “Katie! You made it.”

  “Hi, Dad.” Kate crossed the room and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek ... or as best she could manage reaching around the suitcases. She wrinkled her nose. “You’re not leaving right now, are you?”

  “We have to if we’re going to catch our flight.” Regret touched his features for about half a second before his grin reappeared. “Don’t want to miss our cruise.”

  “Well, that’s cutting it close,” Kate murmured, but he scooted past her to the lobby.

  “That’s what I told your mom,” Dad grunted under the weight of the luggage. “Did you check that we have the passports, hun?”

  “Just checked,” Mom said. She slipped her purse on her shoulder and took Kate by the arm, leading her back to the lobby. “Kate, thank you so much for taking care of the inn while we’re gone. You don’t know what it means to us.”

  “It’s true, Katie,” Dad said. He put down one armful of suitcases to fit through the revolving door, and Kate rushed forward to grab the top one before it fell. Mom grabbed the bottom case, and they took turns pushing through the
doors—swoosh—until they and all the luggage were in front of her parents’ car. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come.”

  “Probably shut the place down.” Her mother laughed heartily, like it was the funniest joke ever. Her father, busy shoving their cases into their car trunk, joined in with loud guffaws.

  Kate was horrified. They’d never closed the Cornucopia, ever, in all her years growing up. Not even when they were sick. Were these really her parents talking? Ever devoted to hard work, the family business, and all things Harvest Ranch? “You’re joking, right?”

  “Katie, sweets,” Dad said after slamming the trunk closed on the sedan and putting a quick arm around her, “this trip has been a long time coming.”

  “A long time,” Mom emphasized, getting in the passenger side of the car.

  “But you love the inn,” Katie reminded them. “And ... what if I ruin it while you’re gone? I thought you were going to show me what you wanted done.”

  Dad waved, getting into his side of the car. “You know what to do. I know you’ve been gone a while, but it’s pretty much the same as when you were growing up. Plus, you probably know more than we do about running a hotel, now that you’ve been managing the Scranton Hilton.”

  Kate sucked in her lips. “Assistant to the assistant manager, actually.” Which would have been a stretch description in itself, if she even still had that job.

  “If you have any questions, ask Dora,” Mom threw out.

  Kate wrinkled her nose. Her cousin Dora was head of housekeeping—which usually consisted of a staff of four. The last conversation Katie had had with her was trying to convince Dora that New Mexico was part of the United States. “Dora is the only help I get? You really don’t care if the inn’s here when you get back, do you?”

  Her parents laughed like it was another fantastic joke. Dad started the car, and Mom rolled down the window. At thirty-two, Kate suddenly felt like an abandoned child.