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Summary
Shane isn’t sure what’s worse: the hangovers, the town gossip, or the new farmer who keeps showing up with bright eyes and bags of hot peppers like she doesn’t know any better.
"You'll hate it here." He said suddenly, voice quiet.
The farmer hummed as she watched Emily slide the pizza from the oven, the scent of melted cheese filling the air.
"Maybe. Maybe not."
She paused, then gave a small smile—not bright or beaming, just soft at the corners, like it came without thinking.
"I haven't found anything to hate yet."
She says she hasn’t found anything to hate here yet. Shane’s pretty sure she hasn’t been looking hard enough.