Page 173 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Carson

I run a ranch. Some of us have jobs.

Three dots.

Beau

I own a business.

Carson

Allegedly.

Beau

You’re cute.

My stomach fluttered.

Beau

Don’t worry. I’m not chasing you.

Before I could decide whether that offended me, another appeared.

Beau

You’re slow. I’ll catch you eventually.

A loud laugh burst out of me, and Blueberry startled. “Sorry, girl.” I looked back at the screen. No question about Saturday. No, why are you avoiding me? No demand that I explain what the kiss meant.

He knew I had pulled away, and he was letting me. Which somehow made me want to run toward him.

By seven that night, I was sitting at the Spicy Pumpkin Tavern wondering how Rosie Malone had convinced me to leave my house on a Wednesday.

“Stop looking at your phone.”

I turned it face down. “I wasn’t.”

“You were smiling at it.” Rosie dropped a bowl of pretzels in front of me and disappeared before I could respond. The tavern looked different from this side of the bar. I’d been here for meetings. A date. Town events years ago… But sitting alone at the corner of the bar while Rosie worked felt strangely normal.

The place was packed for a Wednesday.

Two couples occupied tables near the windows. Walter sat with three older men arguing over something involving Georgia football. A group of women I recognized from the elementary school had taken over the booth near the fireplace.

And Rosie moved between all of them like she’d been born behind the bar.

She knew who drank what.

Who wanted another without asking.

Who needed their bill because their husband was already putting on his jacket.