‘These are surprisingly easy to move,’ I pant as I stagger towards Noel, sweat dripping off my forehead again. All right, the larger ones are a bit on the heavy side, but I didn’t mean that in a fully sarcastic way. It’s easier than I imagined when I thought about what lugging trees around would be like. I look at the rows and rows of neatly sheared trees standing around me. Maybe I’ll reconsider that after I’ve cut, carried, netted, and transported a few hundred more.

‘That’s because you’ve gained some muscles since you started here. Believe me, I can tell.’

I think my entire body flushes from my toes to the tips of my hair at the implication he’s been looking.

‘That wasn’t supposed to sound anywhere near as pervy as it did.’ His face colours too, and he rushes off to collect the last of the trees. ‘Genuinely, Lee,’ he says without looking up when he comes back and starts loading them into the trailer. ‘You’re better at this than I thought you’d be.’

My hands and arms are still shaky from the exertion of carrying. ‘You’re a good teacher.’

‘Nah.’ He blushes and looks away, intently concentrating on laying trees one on top of the other.

‘You really don’t like compliments, do you?’

‘Shall we have a break for lunch?’ He doesn’t acknowledge the question, and I didn’t expect him to. He never accepts a compliment but he gives them freely. ‘There’s something I want to show you, but it’s right on the other side of the farm, we’ll be hungry by the time we get there.’

I don’t tell him that I’m famished now. All this tree cutting is hard work, and it’s nearly midday. Even Noel’s muffin and pumpkin spice latte haven’t sustained me this long, but I still feel like I haven’t seen every corner of Peppermint Branches, and he’s by far the best tour guide I could’ve wished for.

He covers the trailer to prevent the trees drying out while I collect both the bow saws and put the protective covers back on the blades. We pull our gloves off, and he shrugs his rucksack onto his shoulders and holds his hand out to me. ‘The ground might be uneven, and we’ve got to cross the stream.’

I’m quite capable of walking on uneven ground, and could easily cross the stream without assistance, but there’s something about his tone that’s so warm and his open hand looks inviting. Against my better judgement, I slip my hand into his and his fingers close around mine, making another little shiver go through me which has nothing to do with the unending drizzle that’s been gradually soaking through my clothes all morning.