Page 56 of Falling for Mr. October

“I emailed her the news after she offered to leave her husband for me,” I say. “So hopefully she won’t try to climb into my bed again.”

“I wouldn’t mind having the chance to tell her off,” Bianca says, her eyes lit up.

God, she’s gorgeous. I really wish she weren’t. My life is already such a shitshow. It would be nice if something were simple, the way it was yesterday, with just the two of us sitting in the dark, enjoying the beauty of the night.

“I’d like to see you do that,” I admit. “I have a feeling that would be a ten out of ten experience too. You are good at putting people in their place.”

I was serious. If there were a reality TV program that showed Bianca Murphy ripping people a new one night after night, I’d watch every single episode on repeat.

She smiles at me, but it drifts off her face too soon.

“Have you actually looked at the posts online?” she asks. “I’m sure people are going to show up at the apple barn today. They’re going to want to see you.”

I rub the knot at the base of my neck. “I haven’t looked, but I have a pretty good idea what they say. We’re madly in love, I’m hiding out in your farm, and wouldn’t it be a great thing for hundreds of people to barge in and introduce themselves to us?”

“More or less. A few people said I wasn’t hot enough for the great Shirtless Chef.”

“Ridiculous. It must have been Janine using different usernames. No one who wasn’t jealous would say something so stupid.”

She smiles. “Sure, we’ll go with that. But what are we going to do?”

“Are you saying my problem is now ours?”

“It is, yeah,” she says with a decisive nod. “You made my problem yours, and I’m making yours mine. How do you want to handle this? Should we close the farm to visitors today? We opened early yesterday for the hard launch, but we usually open the apple barn and pumpkin patch at twelve.”

That’s only a couple of hours away…

Maybe no one will show up, and we’re worrying about nothing, but odds are, people will come.

“Why don’t we tell them I really did get amnesia? It’ll make for a great story, and Eva will feel vindicated.”

Bianca’s smile is more half-hearted this time. She’s undoubtedly sick of my bullshit, so I add, “We’ll go with the story we came up with outside. They’ll like that. It’s less teleromanzi and more Smut Slut romancey, but it’ll do.”

Her mouth twists to the side. “They’ll want to know when to expect a new video from you.”

“When I know, I’ll tell them,” I say with a lightness I don’t feel.

“You need to learn to make an apple pie as good as the one at The Clean Plate Club before the pie contest. That would make a good video.”

A good video that would publicize Apple Ridge in general, and her family farm in particular, no doubt.

“We’ll see.” My voice is chilly, and the flirtatious atmosphere that’s been building between us breaks, as if a storm just blitzed through and altered the landscape.

Guilt filters back into her expression, seeming to confirm my suspicion. Instead of calling it out, I reach around her and open the doors, our nonnas nearly spilling inside. They’d been standing directly behind them, perhaps pressing their ears to the wood.

“There was no room for us to crouch beside each other by the vent,” my nonna says, completely unapologetic. “This is better.”

The front door hinges are so bereft of WD-40, I can hear them opening from across the house.

“Is Mr. Mayor back for more?” I ask, glancing at Bianca.

Her brow furrows. “I doubt it. He looked like he’d seen the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

“Maybe Giovanni’s admirers are already arriving,” Nonna Rose says excitedly. “I’ll go make more coffee.”

“I help you,” Nonna Francesca tells her before turning back toward me. She pats my cheek, then Bianca’s. “You send those women away, Bianca. You’re a good girl.”

She pads after Nonna Rose, and I whisper to Bianca, “You think she would have said that if she’d heard you ask if I want⁠—”