Page 25 of Trick or Tease

Romance wasn’t even something I’d thought about for a long time. I’d been so focused on making something of myself, on the farm projects, on building a life here that mattered. I wasn’t ready to be having these thoughts about anyone, much less Garrett, who would pack up his expensive suits and go back to his life in a few days, never to look back again.

Just like he had before.

I was not about to let a schoolgirl crush turn into a legitimate heartbreak. And Garrett would absolutely shatter my heart. I wasn’t one to believe in fortune telling, but it didn’t take any spiritual gifts to predict that future.

“How’s the corn maze coming along?” Granny asked, starting to roll out another piece of dough. “Billy mentioned you two have been working on making it a big feature this year.”

I paused mid-slice, my knife hovering over the apple. “It’s coming along. We’ve got the maze part figured out. Billy did a great job with the layout.”

“But?”

Of course she heard the hesitation in my voice. “But I had some ideas to make it actually scary, you know? Not just wandering around lost between cornstalks. I thought we could add some real thrills.”

“What kind of thrills?”

“Well, I was thinking we could have people hiding in the maze. Maybe some jump scares. Creepy sounds. Make it feel like a real haunted experience instead of just a pretty walk through some corn.” I set down my knife and turned to face her. “But everyone shot it down. Billy thinks it’s too much. Lucy said it would scare away families with little kids. And Garrett?” I rolled my eyes. “Garrett thinks the whole thing is silly anyway, so why bother making it actually entertaining?”

Granny Mae let out a hearty chuckle that made her whole body shake. “Oh honey. You want to scare people, don’t you?”

“Is that so wrong? It’s October! It’s supposed to be spooky season!”

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You always did love a good ghost story. Remember when you were about eight and you convinced half the kids in town that the old Hogan house was haunted?”

“It could be haunted,” I protested, though I was smiling now too. “We don’t know for sure it isn’t. Other people have their own stories about that house.”

“Mmm-hmm. And you just happened to have a whole story ready about the headless farmer who roams the property looking for his lost pumpkin.”

I picked up another apple, trying not to laugh. “That was a good story.”

“It was a terrible story, but you told it with such conviction that poor little Tommy Mitchell wouldn’t go near that hill for two years.” She shook her head, still chuckling. “His mother gave me an earful about it at church.”

“I was fostering his imagination.”

“You were scaring the bejesus out of him, is what you were doing.” Granny Mae’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That place has plenty of ghosts already. You don’t need to go inventing more.”

Two hours later, I grabbed a leftover apple slice off the counter and munched it, letting the sweet tartness distract me from the way Garrett had looked at me on his balcony last night. He looked at me like I was something special. The juice ran down my chin and I wiped it away with the back of my hand, something that would have horrified the perfectly polished women I’d seen in his apartment building.

“All done,” I announced, surveying our work.

Granny Mae nodded approvingly at our creations. “These will be perfect for the party.”

“Always are,” I said.

I washed my hands. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and walked home to my parents’ house.

Back in my childhood bedroom that night, I stared up at the familiar water stain on the ceiling that had been there since I was twelve. I had stared at the stain for so long I convinced myself it looked like a rabbit, or maybe a cloud, depending on how I tilted my head. Outside my window, I could hear the distant lowing of cattle settling in for the night.

The sound should have been comforting. It always had been before. But tonight it just reminded me of everything Garrett had left behind, everything he clearly thought was beneath him now.

Me.

I was a product of Greenleaf and I wasn’t ashamed of it. I got the feeling he was.

I rolled over onto my side, pulling my grandmother’s quilt up to my chin. Even its familiar weight couldn’t quiet the restless energy thrumming through me.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?