Page 201 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Maybe I’d been wrong about that too.

Maybe moving forward wasn’t about getting her back.

Maybe it was finally allowing the woman I’d become to want things again.

I looked at Beau. He caught me staring and lifted one dark eyebrow before deliberately taking another bite of my pie instead of his.

I should’ve stabbed him with my fork. Instead, I smiled and settled closer against him.

Chapter 26

BEAU

The first Saturday in October started before sunrise.

By five forty-five, I was already turning off the country road toward Marigold Ranch with two coffees in the cup holders, a paper bag from Sugar and Pine on the passenger seat, and enough extension cords, zip ties, spare bulbs, electrical tape, and tools in the back of my truck to deal with whatever emergency Rosie had managed to invent overnight.

The Harvest Festival didn’t officially open until eight.

Yet cars were already lining the road.

Not festival guests yet, mostly vendors and volunteers, but the sight of headlights stretching beneath the trees still made me ease off the accelerator.

For weeks, we had talked about opening weekend like it was a deadline. Everything had been aimed at this morning.

Now it was here.

And for once, I understood exactly why Carson had been terrified.

For the next four weekends, and again on Halloween, people were going to fill these fields. They would walk through the dairy barn, buy pumpkins, take hayrides, eat June’s pastries, drink cider, listen to Iris tell ghost stories, and probably let Darlene Pike convince them some piece of local gossip counted as historical fact.

I passed the restored sign at the entrance.

MARIGOLD RANCH

Underneath it, the smaller board we had added the week before caught my headlights.

HOME OF THE WILLOW CREEK HARVEST FESTIVAL

Carson still hadn’t admitted she liked it.

The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled toward the barn. The property was already glowing. Strings of amber lights had been left on overnight along the main walkways, giving the ranch a warm orange haze against the dark sky. Lanterns hung from posts near the vendor field. Pumpkins lined the barn doors. The repaired hay wagons sat beneath the oak trees waiting for their first run.

It looked nothing like the half-sleeping ranch I had driven into a month ago.

Carson stood near the dairy barn with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm and a flashlight in her hand. She wore a cream sweater beneath an old barn jacket, jeans, and boots. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and from the way she held herself, I knew she’d probably been awake for hours.

The difference now was that I also knew why she was standing with more weight on her right side. And because she had trusted me enough to tell me what she feared, I knew better than to walk across the yard and immediately tell her to sit down.

She looked toward my truck and her expression changed to instant relief. It happened every time I got to the ranch. A small softening around her eyes that made the entire drive worthwhile.

I grabbed the coffee and bakery bag. By the time I reached her, she was looking at the bag.

“You brought breakfast,” she said with an excited glint in her green eyes.

“I knew you’d be too busy.” I handed her one of the coffees.

Carson took a sip and her eyes closed briefly. “Vanilla.”