Page 24 of Falling for Mr. October

Luanne, who’s been taking everything in with interest from her wheelchair, says, “Yes, I think I speak for all of us when I say we’d like details, son. Do you have some kind of a secret pornography career? It’s not often a man is recognized by his abs.”

“Luanne,” Emily says with a sigh. “You can’t ask him that.”

But Bianca peers at me with a fierce, unyielding gaze. “Answer the woman’s question. Do you?”

I run a hand through my hair and glance hopelessly at the entrance to the tent. I’m not sure what I’m more worried about, being stampeded by a bunch of strangers or undergoing this inquisition by Bianca Murphy. Especially in front of her closest friend and a woman at least as old as my grandmother.

“What about the customers?” I ask.

Bianca waves a hand around at the now-empty tent. “Yes. However will they occupy themselves?”

“This is…private.”

Not true. Obviously not true. My business stopped being private weeks ago, when millions of people saw my face and heard my name.

But Luanne nods to herself in satisfaction before whispering to Bianca’s redheaded friend, “Pornography.”

“Fine,” Bianca says.

She grabs a pen from behind the register, then rips a sheet of paper out of a notebook. She scrawls CLOSED FOR LUNCH on it before stomping out of the tent.

I don’t know how she expects to get that flimsy sheet of paper attached to the tent flaps, but I know better than to ask. Or to bet against her.

She’s running hot. Has been ever since that woman started taking photos of me.

The thought actually makes me smile for half a second, before Bianca comes stomping back in.

“Well?” she says, eyebrows winging up.

Emily takes a sip of her warm cider.

Luanne lifts my Henley, which is still in her lap, up to her face, possibly to wipe her nose, possibly for a sniff. Either way, I no longer want it back.

I shift my weight between my feet, feeling like a little kid about to get called out for cutting class.

“Look. My grandmother doesn’t like me talking about this,” I say, “but I have a…I guess you’d call it a following. I had this anonymous YouTube channel, and I got a lot of followers. But a few weeks ago…” I hesitate, reliving the memory. “Everyone found out who I was. Where I lived. All of it. It was a big deal. People were showing up at the shop, following me, and⁠—”

“So you decided to bring them here?” Bianca asks.

I hang my head. “I…Miles suggested it was a place where I could keep a low profile. People here don’t keep up with what’s going on outside Apple Ridge. It’s a bit like where I’m from, but everyone there knows me.”

Her jaw hardens. “Miles is not exactly known for his decision-making prowess, Giovanni. What have you brought to our doorstep?”

“Porn,” Luanne repeats confidently. “He’s been doing that porno stuff. It’s very popular with young people these days. Emily and I watched a documentary about it the other week.”

“It’s not porn,” I say through my teeth, a bit sensitive about the accusation, given my own grandmother has accused me of it dozens of times.

“So what is it?” Bianca asks, exasperated. “Why are you being so weird about this?”

Emily, who’s been silent this whole time, waves her phone in the air. “He’s the Shirtless Chef.”

Bianca’s eyes are glued to me, several strands of hair escaping from her bun and her growing-out bangs partially draped over her face. She looks like she might attack me or⁠—

She’s not going to kiss you, dumbass. She made that very clear.

I shove the thought away, because giving a girl a bad kiss when I was fourteen is definitely the least of my problems right now.

Sighing, I admit, “Yeah. I made instructional cooking videos. My brother Nico helped me with the recipes at first, but I got…kind of into it. I liked helping people.”