Page 165 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Nothing.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and waited. “You do that a lot.”

“Do what?”

“Look at me and then say nothing.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”

“You don’t. It’s creepy though.” She blushed.

“Good to know.” I pushed away from the wagon and picked up the extension cord we’d abandoned earlier. “Thought you were going inside.”

“I am.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I got distracted.”

“By?”

She swept one hand toward the ranch. “All of this.”

We still had work to do. Most of the permanent festival lighting had been hung today, but we hadn’t tested the full setup yet. Carson wanted everything on separate circuits so one blown strand didn’t take out half the property.

Apparently, that happened one year when she was fourteen, and James had spent most of opening night running extension cords while swearing loudly enough for children on the hayride to learn several new words.

I connected the last cord near the equipment barn and turned to look at her. “Ready?”

Carson looked around. “For what?”

“Lights.”

Her expression changed, excitement creeping into her eyes. “We’re testing all of them?”

“That’s generally how testing works.”

“Smart-ass.”

“You like that about me.” The words came out before I thought about them.

Carson stilled. A few weeks ago, she would’ve immediately denied it. Tonight she looked at me across the yard and said one word.

“Unfortunately.”

Then she walked toward the breaker panel.

That single word did stupid things to my chest.

I followed her, and together we stared at the switches. Carson ran one finger down them.

“Moment of truth.”

“Do it.”

She flipped the first switch. The barn lit up. Warm orange bulbs ran along the roofline, soft enough that the old wood still looked old instead of like we’d turned the place into a carnival.

Another switch.