Page 206 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“We’ve already made more than I thought we’d make opening weekend.” There was disbelief in her voice. I didn’t know why, but I knew enough now to understand what those numbers meant.

“Seriously?”

She nodded. “Rosie sent me the numbers.”

Feed.

Repairs.

The cooling system.

The thing Carson said the ranch hadn’t had in years. I didn’t say any of it. I only smiled.

“Guess Willow Creek missed this place.”

Her eyes grew suspiciously shiny as she rested her leg across another chair.

“Are you staying here awhile?”

“Probably twenty minutes.”

“Good.”

Her eyes narrowed. I lifted both hands. “Didn’t say why.”

“You thought it loudly.”

I laughed. Then crossed the kitchen and kissed the top of her head. Carson caught my wrist before I could move away. She looked up as I leaned down, and her lips met mine.

When she released me, I returned to the festival before I did something considerably less appropriate in Meme’s kitchen.

It was nearly ten when I finally got home. Opening day had officially ended at eight, but apparently festivals had no respect for closing hours.

Vendors needed help packing.

Trash had to be collected.

Equipment secured.

The hay wagons checked for morning.

And Rosie wanted a full debrief before everyone left, which Jax described as, “corporate bullshit with pumpkins.”

By the time I showered, every muscle in my body ached. I should’ve fallen asleep immediately. Instead, I lay on my back staring at the dark ceiling.

Carson filled every quiet space. I thought about her standing at the entrance that morning. Her sitting on Dad’s tailgate eating lunch. Her prosthetic leaning against the kitchen cabinet while she argued with me about Rosie’s numbers.

The way she’d said our festival without thinking.

I thought about the moment I’d realized I loved her. Then I wondered how long I’d actually known.

I turned toward the clock. 11:47 pm.

Carson was probably asleep. I picked up my phone anyway.

Beau

You awake?