Page 138 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

She said nothing as Rosie grabbed two menus and led us toward the back. As we passed the bar, Jax sat there. I stopped in my tracks glaring at my older brother, who knew I would be here tonight with Carson.

Carson stopped beside me, her eyes finding Jax and her jaw going slack in surprise. Rosie stopped to see what was keeping us as Jax looked up from his beer.

Then Carson looked at me. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

“No.”

Jax raised the glass. “Coincidence.”

I glared, because it was no coincidence at all.

Rosie folded her arms. “He’s been here forty minutes already.”

Jax looked offended. “I eat here all the time.”

Rosie shook her head and turned, ignoring my idiot brother. I chose to follow her lead, my hand finding Carson’s and tugging her along to the table. I took the chair across from Carson. For several seconds, both of us looked toward the bar. Jax was speaking to Rosie now. He leaned one forearm against the counter while she wiped glasses.

Whatever he said made her shake her head. He said something else, and she tried not to laugh.

Carson looked back toward me. “That’s interesting.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Does he come here a lot?”

“Apparently.”

We both looked back, and this time Jax noticed, flipping us off immediately. A laugh burst from Carson as she looked away.

The date got easier after that. Maybe because once we survived the first five minutes of being observed by half the tavern, there was nothing left to be nervous about.

We ordered burgers. Carson stole fries from my plate, despite having her own. She said mine tasted better because they weren’t hers. We talked about Halloween movies. She loved the old ones nobody spoke about anymore. Actual Halloween movies we used to watch as kids. The kind with small towns, ridiculous decorations, witches, ghosts, and enough nostalgia to make people forgive bad special effects.

We talked about our childhoods. Jax and me stealing Dad’s truck when we were fifteen and driving it around the garage lot. Clover filling my bedroom with fake snow one Christmas because I told her winter decorations were stupid. Carson hiding in the hayloft during church because James refused to let her skip Sunday service after a rodeo ran late. He found her because Blueberry kept looking up toward the loft.

The waitress cleared our plates. Neither of us mentioned leaving even though we’d finished our food. Then Rosie eventually brought two slices of pumpkin cheesecake we hadn’t ordered.

Outside, Main Street had gone fully dark. Orange lights reflected across the tavern windows. People moved along the sidewalks. A group of teenagers passed wearing cheap witch hats. Somewhere farther down, music played from outdoor speakers near the bakery.

When the bill came, I grabbed it as Carson reached at the same time.

“No.”

She looked at me. “What why?”

“It’s a date.” I felt stupid even saying it, because this wasn’t the 80s where men always paid, but I wanted Carson to feel special tonight.

“You keep using that as an excuse.”

“It’s the truth.”

“So I get tip then.”

I considered it for a second, and even though it went against everything I had been taught, I let her have it. “Fine.”

She looked happy yet surprised. “Really?”

I nodded and watched her pull cash out of her purse and leave it on the table with a hint of pride in her eyes as she tucked it in a corner so no one would steal it.