Page 60 of Trick or Tease

“I’m Garrett Hogan, one of the owners.”

I started to step away, grateful for the rescue, but his arm slipped around my waist, holding me firmly in place beside him. The touch sent electricity shooting through my entire body, and I had to concentrate on not leaning into him.

What the hell was he doing?

I tried to step away again, but that only had him tightening his grip.

“Sabrina here is the creative genius behind most of what you see. She’s been instrumental in developing the attractions and ensuring every family has an amazing experience.”

I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed both gratitude and panic, but he just smiled that easy, charming smile that probably made panties within a hundred yards drop.

They continue to ask Garrett questions while I stood there silent as a ghost. He answered every question with ease and ended the interview by telling everyone to come check out the festival.

“Thanks,” I said when he finally released me and allowed me room to breathe.

“No problem,” he said. “Better get back over there. Looks like they’re getting backed up.”

“Yep. On it.”

“I know this is crazy but it’s everything you all were hoping for,” he said. “Let’s make sure it’s a great day.”

22

GARRETT

Istood behind the hot chocolate stand, filling steaming cups for the families waiting for the next haunted hayride. We had filled two large coffee urns with hot chocolate and another one with coffee. There was an even bigger container filled with warm cider. Lucy had just brought out a fresh batch and was doing her best to keep it coming. With the surprise crowd, we were dangerously close to running out of all refreshments. I had already made an order with the local market to pick up tomorrow.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of work I’d expected to be doing today, but somehow I’d gotten roped into manning the refreshment station. Doling out coffee, cream, and marshmallows. If my law associates could see me now.

I supposed it was better than rescuing people from the maze. I knew I would get just as lost as they were. And it had been way too long since I drove a tractor. I didn’t dare take on that chore. And I was a bit more useful than a parking attendant.

“Two hot chocolates and a cider,” I said, handing cups to a couple with a young daughter who couldn’t have been more than five. She was wearing a tiny witch costume that made her look adorable rather than scary.

“Thank you!” the little girl chirped, clutching her cup with both hands. “Is the hayride really haunted?”

“Only the fun kind of haunted,” I assured her, glancing toward where the current group was boarding the flatbed trailer. “Nothing too scary for brave witches like you.”

She giggled and looked up at her parents with wide eyes. “See,” she said. “It won’t be scary.”

“Let’s get in line,” the father said.

I found myself smiling as I watched them walk away. When was the last time I’d interacted with kids? In my Manhattan world, children were rare creatures glimpsed occasionally in expensive restaurants or high-end stores, usually accompanied by nannies. I didn’t hang out with anyone that had kids. We were all about our careers.

The rumble of the tractor engine drew my attention back to the hayride loading area. Lucy was climbing into the driver’s seat of the old John Deere, checking her mirrors and adjusting the seat. But it was Sabrina who captured my focus completely.

She was perched on the edge of the flatbed trailer, her legs dangling over the side as she chatted with the assembled families. That ridiculous pointed witch’s hat sat askew on her blonde head, and she was gesturing wildly with her hands as she explained what they were about to experience.

She had become one of the tour guides for the ride up Hogan Hill. I heard a couple of the teens that were on the last hayride talking about how much fun they had. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to be the star of the whole show.

“Now, I have to warn you, the old Hogan house up on the hill has been abandoned for decades,” Sabrina said in a low voice. “Some say it’s haunted by the ghost of Samuel Hogan himself.”

A few of the kids gasped dramatically, pressing closer to their parents. One little boy raised his hand like he was in school.

“Is it really haunted?” he asked, his eyes wide.

Sabrina leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice so everyone had to strain to hear. “Well, let me put it this way. Last week, when we were setting up decorations, I could have sworn I saw a light flickering in one of the upstairs windows. But when we went to check...” She paused for effect. “Nobody was there.”

I had to suppress a laugh. The woman was a natural storyteller, completely in her element as she spun tales for her captive audience. She had every person on that trailer hanging on her every word, from the wide-eyed children to their equally entertained parents.