Ahh, it feels good to be on-schedule. According to my outline, this chapter was supposed to be a filler - but that totally didn't happen. Here's the aftermath of the Spring Thanksgiving incident and the beginning of my favorite arc of the story. Read on!

CHAPTER STATS

Word Count (excluding A/N): 1794

Date Updated: 12-11-11

Current Review Count: 539

Chelsea walked out of her house and onto her farm, wiping at her eyes as the crisp morning air woke her up. She stretched out her back and trudged her way through weeds and fallen branches over to her little plot of crops.

Taking out her watering can, she started to hum to herself, remembering the cookies carefully kept in her rucksack. She couldn't help but smile when she remembered what had happened the previous day. Vaughn had such a red face! It was adorable how embarrassed he was. But was he being serious?

Chelsea frowned, putting her watering can away and heading towards the barn. Julia had a point—Vaughn had to know what giving cookies implied. But it was just so hard to believe he'd willingly participate in a holiday that even Chelsea had thought was a little superficial. If Chelsea knew anything about Vaughn—and she like to think she knew him rather well, considering the circumstances—it was that he was not one to wear his feelings on his shoulder.

Sighing, Chelsea walked up to Daisy. "Hey, girl."

Daisy looked up at the farmer, letting out a low moo.

Smiling slightly, Chelsea began to brush the cow in front of her. Daisy was a good friend. She listened whenever Chelsea needed an unbiased ear. "What do you think, girl? Was Vaughn serious?"

Daisy was silent under the brush, unsurprisingly opting not to answer. Chelsea pursed her lips. Could Vaughn actually see her as more than a friend? They had been talking a lot, and she knew that Vaughn trusted her—which was a major thing for him, she thought—but were they anything more than just good friends? What about yesterday, when Vaughn had so blatantly showed the difference in his regard for Sabrina and Chelsea? Sabrina had asked him the exact same thing that she had, worrying over the cowboy—but instead of rudely shunning Chelsea like he had to Sabrina, he'd answered her with no hesitation. It shouldn't have struck Chelsea so strongly—after all, Vaughn was clearly not very adept in talking, especially to strangers—but it had.

But just because Vaughn talked to her so easily didn't mean that he thought of her romantically. That was why the cookies threw a confusing wrench in the situation.

Chelsea was sure about one thing, though—she had to make sure she talked to Vaughn today, like Julia had suggested. If Vaughn was serious, the worst thing she could do was not talk to him.

Ooo

Vaughn paced nervously inside the chicken coop at Mirabelle's. He had finished all of his work and it was barely after noon. He'd been working especially slowly, too, just so he would waste more time. Sighing, he leaned against the wall, trying to compose himself and regain his usual stoic demeanor. This whole giving-Chelsea-cookies thing wasn't working out very well.

He didn't want to avoid her, but he also didn't really want to talk to her. It seemed like the only thing that Chelsea was likely to do was reject him. Why had he listened to Riley and given her those damned cookies? He knew it was a bad idea. He'd always hated Spring Thanksgiving anyways. It was a superficial holiday. He didn't need to give chocolate to someone to prove his affections.

He pushed off the wall and left the coop, heading back to the shop. Hopefully Mirabelle would have something else for him to do. He didn't want to have to decide whether or not he should go talk to that damn farmer—if he was working, he would have an excuse not to talk to her. If he wasn't working, he had to either avoid her or not avoid her, and he wasn't sure which seemed like the better option.

Goddess, he thought, grimacing. This is really making my life hell.

"Oh, Vaughn," Julia said, perking up from behind the counter as Vaughn walked in. "Chelsea was here a little bit ago."

"What'd she want?" Vaughn grunted, doing a very good job of seeming uninterested.

"I don't know," Julia said, shrugging. "She bought some fodder."

"So?" Vaughn frowned. "Was she lookin' for me or somethin'?"

"She didn't say she was, but—"

"Then I don't see why it's important for me t'know," Vaughn mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Is there anythin' else for me to do?"

"I don't think so," Julia said, slumping resignedly. "You're off for the rest of the day."

Vaughn nodded and left, hesitating as the door closed behind him. Where should he go? Chelsea could be anywhere. He sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he felt a headache come on. If Chelsea had been at Mirabelle's earlier and hadn't asked about him, it seemed like a safe bet that she wasn't particularly excited about talking to him. Which probably meant she was awkwardly trying to figure out how to reject him.

He frowned, setting off towards the forest. It was unlikely she'd be there with all the chores she had to do on her farm. If he was lucky, he could avoid her for the rest of the day and be on a boat by nightfall, postponing the inevitable rejection for another week.

He slumped against a tree, studying his boots. This sucked.

Ooo

"Julia," Chelsea said, walking into the animal shop. "Have you seen Vaughn? It's almost dark out and I haven't been able to find him all day."

"You haven't?" Julia said, surprised. She closed her magazine and leaned across the counter. "He was here a while ago. I tried to tell him that you were here earlier, but he didn't get it."

"Didn't get what?" Chelsea asked, confused.

"That I was implying that you were looking for him," she rolled her eyes. "He asked if you asked for him, and since you technically didn't, he figured you weren't looking for him."

"Great, Chelsea sighed. "He probably thinks I'm avoiding him, then."

"Well, he has to be at the dock at some point, doesn't he?" Julia said, raising her eyebrows. "If you ust go down there and wait for a bit, I'm sure you'll find him before he leaves."

"You're right," Chelsea said, nodding. She opened the door, but hesitated. "Hey, Julia?"

"What?" The blonde asked, tilting her head in concern.

Chelsea pursed her lips. "Do you really think he meant it when he gave me the cookies?"

Julia rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. Don't worry about it—go tell him you liked them before it's too late!"

"Okay," Chelsea nodded, stepping into the cool evening.

"And give him a smooch while you're at it!" Julia called as the door closed.

Chelsea grimaced as her face heated up but headed towards the beach anyway. Julia had to be right. Even if the whole thing was a little fishy to Chelsea, Vaughn wasn't the kind to take feelings lightly. He had to be serious about it. But why so suddenly? And why choose Spring Thanksgiving to tell her something like this? It just didn't seem very… Vaughn. It was too predictable. There was something wrong here.

She made it to the dark beach, noticing the boat close on the horizon. It was still coming in. Her heart sank in relief—she hadn't missed him. Not yet, at least.

She sat down on the sand, watching the cloudy sky as she tried to think of what she was going to say to that cowboy when he got there. Should she just outright say that she liked the cookies—that she liked him? Or was that too blatant? If she did that and he didn't actually mean it the way it seemed, she was setting herself up for some serious humiliation. She could try assuming it was a joke and laughing about it. That seemed like it could work. But if he was being completely serious, he'd probably be insulted that she took it so lightly—and also think she was rejecting him, which would be really bad.

She heaved a deep sigh, slumping forward. This was so confusing and stressful. It didn't help the situation that her stomach was all tied up in knots. What if he was being serious? Would she tell him about her crush on him? Or would she end up screwing it up and unintentionally playing hard-to-get? She almost wished that he wasn't being serious so that she wouldn't have to awkwardly tell him how she felt.

She froze, hearing hesitant footsteps in the sand behind her. They stopped nearby.

She stood up awkwardly, dusting sand off of her legs. She turned to the cowboy beside her, unable to see his face through his hat. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied, glancing at the ocean and the boat that was now preparing to dock.

"So," Chelsea started, rocking back and forth. She cringed at how thick the air was. "Uh. How are you?"

She could tell Vaughn was rolling his eyes, but he didn't answer.

"Uh, yeah," Chelsea said, rubbing her shoulder awkwardly. Now or never. "About those cookies…"

Vaughn visibly tensed. "Yeah?"

"Were you serious?" Chelsea asked, her tone coming out in a way that almost sounded amused—which was not at all her intention.

"Serious?" Vaughn repeated, confused. She cringed—he seemed hurt. "Why?"

"Well, just because, uh," she stuttered, trying to show that she wanted him to be serious without actually showing that she wanted him to be serious, just in case he wasn't actually serious. It was difficult to achieve and she was pretty sure she failed. "You know, there are a lot of, uh, implications with giving someone chocolate cookies on Spring Thanksgiving, and I—well, I don't—I'm not sure—"

"You think I was kiddin'," Vaughn said, his tone unreadable and his face hidden beneath his hat.

"Well, no—or, uh, I don't know," Chelsea said, sighing. "It just doesn't seem like something you'd do, that's all."

Vaughn was silent for several moments before speaking. "So you think I was kiddin'."

Chelsea swallowed. She'd offended him—that was obvious in his forced tone. This was not her intention at all. Before she could come up with something to say, the horn on the boat sounded, signaling its eminent departure. Vaughn shifted the bag in his hands, starting to walk away. Chelsea panicked as he started down the dock.

"Wait," she called after him. To her surprise, he didn't stop walking. She felt her heart drop. "Vaughn!"

The horn sounded off again, the boat's motor starting up. She couldn't see him on the deck as the vessel headed out on the sea.

"I liked them," Chelsea said, but there was no way he could hear her.

She blinked back a tear. She'd really messed this one up.

Well, shucks. That didn't work out the way we all hoped it would.

So, this begins my favorite arc of the story. I call it my favorite arc because it is the plot bunny that I had two years ago, around this time of the year, that made me want to write a VaughnxChelsea longfic. Honestly. I started this story just so I could write the events that take place in the next few (several?) chapters. I can't believe it took this long to get to it. I can't believe I'm actually going to get to write it, after all these years! xD

Anywho, I start finals on Friday and start Christmas break on Tuesday the 20th, so I'll get a chapter out next weekend and then the updating will likely be a bit more frequent over break. In the mean time, I hope you liked this chapter! Review and tell me how awkward Vaughn and Chelsea are and how poorly they both handled this. Who else wants to blame Riley for making Vaughn give her the cookies in the first place? xP