Page 135 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I looked up. There was no joke in his expression this time. That irritated me a lot more. “Why would I?”

He shrugged. “Because she’s not one of your usual girls.” Then he disappeared into the garage before I could ask what the hell that meant. The problem was, I already knew. Most women I dated fit into my life easily because neither of us expected much from the other.

Dinner.

Drinks.

Maybe weekends.

No complicated histories.

No family ties older than we were.

No ranches sitting on the edge of town full of memories I was starting to understand before Carson ever explained them.

No woman whose grandfather had once taught me how to reset a crooked fence post and somehow still influenced the way I approached work nearly a decade later.

Carson came attached with things. History that had deep roots, and hers ran through almost every part of Willow Creek.

I checked the time. Five twenty-six.

Plenty of time until I had to be at Marigold, but I left early anyway.

At six fifty-eight, I turned onto the long road leading toward Marigold Ranch. I had taken Carson’s warning seriously. The porch light was on despite the remaining daylight, and a row of marigolds along the front steps had recovered from the storm last week.

Her truck still wasn’t ready.

One part had been delayed until Monday, which I hated more than Carson did because she had asked me about it exactly twice and both times acted like she wasn’t disappointed with my answer.

Meme’s Camry sat beside the house, and an old ranch truck occupied the gravel near the barn, so I parked near the porch. The screen door opened before I reached the first step. Evelyn Rome stood there, she didn’t invite me inside like Carson had suspected. Instead, she simply stepped onto the porch and looked me over.

Slowly.

I stopped, tipped my chin. “Evening, Meme.”

She’d told me two days ago to stop calling her Mrs. Rome or Evelyn. Apparently Meme was acceptable now. Her gaze settled on my shirt. I forced my gaze not to look down. I had changed three times before deciding on a dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to my forearms and jeans that weren’t stained with grease.

“You clean up nice.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell nice too.”

I blinked in surprise at her compliment.

“Relax, honey.” She smiled. “I’m old, not blind.”

Before I could recover, Carson appeared behind her, and like every cliche movie on the planet, for a second, everything else disappeared.

She wore dark black jeans, and cream-colored boots, not that I expected any less from the rodeo princess. A soft rust-colored sweater hung loosely from one shoulder, showing the faint line of a black strap beneath it. Her blonde hair fell in waves instead of being pulled back beneath a cap, and there was more makeup on her face than I’d seen before, though not enough to hide the freckles across her nose.

She caught me staring, her green eyes flitting nervously to Meme before landing on mine once more. “You’re early.”

I checked my watch. “Six fifty-nine.”

“That’s early.”

“By one minute.”