Page 132 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Beau

Carson, I’m asking you out.

There it was clear as day. No work excuse. A real date because he wanted to spend more time with me.

My first instinct was fear. Not excitement. Because a date meant Beau wasn’t simply being kind. He was interested in me, not just in the woman who ran the ranch, but the one beneath the clothes. And interest created a path toward everything I had spent five years avoiding.

Kissing.

Touching.

Clothes coming off.

The moment he found out.

I could say no, which was the safest option for my heart, the ranch gave me an endless supply of believable excuses.

Another message appeared before I could answer him.

Beau

You can say no.

That should have made it easier, but something about the absence of pressure made me want to do the opposite.

I looked through the bakery window again. Hunter had shifted in his chair. Clover was talking, both hands moving dramatically while he listened.

I looked back at Beau’s message. Maybe I wasn’t ready to tell him everything. Maybe I didn’t need to be.

A date was just dinner.

It wasn’t a promise of anything more to come. Just one evening, one meal, a night to get away from the responsibility.

Carson

Week nights are a little hard for me.

The typing bubble appeared.

Beau

Fair.

Carson

Friday?

His response took approximately three seconds.

Beau

Friday works.

7?

Carson

Okay.