Haley never thought she’d fall for someone like him.

When she first heard a farmer was moving into the old, rundown house outside town, she pictured someone scruffy, boring, maybe even a little smelly. Definitely not her type.

But then she saw him.

Not just with her eyes—but with time.

It was the way he greeted every season like an old friend. The way he worked with his hands, gentle and precise, coaxing life from the soil. The way he waved at her from his field, smile easy, as if she weren’t the most difficult girl in Pelican Town.

She didn’t notice the shift all at once. It was slow, like sunlight creeping across the floor.

One morning, she brought him a daffodil—her favorite. She said it was just because she had extras, but when he tucked it behind his ear and gave her that look, she knew she’d be lying if she said it meant nothing.

Now, she lived in the farmhouse with him.

At first, the quiet scared her. No traffic. No flashing lights. Just birdsong, the clucking of hens, and the wind brushing against the windows. But she grew to love it. Crave it. She still liked dressing up, still liked taking pictures—but now her favorite photos weren’t of herself.

They were of him.

Leaning against the barn with hay in his hair. Smiling as their dog chased butterflies. Carrying a basket of wild berries back from the woods.

She kept them in a little leather-bound album labeled Home.

In spring, she danced barefoot in the rain while he worked in the garden. He just smiled and handed her a towel after.

In summer, she sat on the porch, sipping cold lemonade and snapping photos while he wrangled goats with surprising grace.

In fall, she followed him into the woods, the leaves crunching beneath their boots, and found herself holding his hand without thinking.

And in winter?

She curled up next to him by the fire, resting her head on his shoulder while he read—sometimes books, sometimes seed catalogs. It didn’t matter. She just liked the sound of pages turning and the rhythm of his breathing beside her.

Haley had never been patient. Never been humble. She used to think love was about grand gestures—roses, diamonds, whirlwind trips.

But with him?

It was waking up to warm coffee waiting on the table. It was the way he brushed dirt off her boots without being asked. It was a kiss pressed to her hair when he passed by.

It was simple. Quiet. Honest.

It was better than anything she used to dream about.

And sometimes, when he was out in the field and she stood at the window watching him work—shirt rolled up, sun catching the edges of his hair—she felt something bloom inside her chest.

Pride. Peace. Love.

All tangled together in the kind of happiness she never thought she'd have.

Not with a farmer.

But then again, Haley had always liked surprises.