Page 22 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Help rarely came without conditions. My mother had taught me that before I was old enough to understand the lesson. Every promise had an expiration date. Every kindness came with the possibility of being taken away.

Pops and Meme had been the exceptions.

I wasn’t ready to trust that anyone else could be.

The brothers returned a few minutes later, rainwater glistening on their hair and shoulders.

“Everything’s in the refrigerator,” Beau said. “I called Clover. She’ll take June’s order and whatever is going to the bakery.”

“You called her already?”

He held up his phone with a cocky grin. “Technology works great sometimes.”

I ignored that. “The diner and grocery store are still waiting.”

“We can handle the diner on the way to Marigold Ranch,” he said.

My brows drew together. “We?”

“You need a ride home.”

“I haven’t agreed to go anywhere with you.”

“Your truck isn’t moving tonight.”

“I’m well aware of the situation.”

“And unless you plan to walk another thirty minutes through the storm, your choices are limited.”

“I could call Meme.”

“And ask her to drive here in this weather?”

The answer died before reaching my lips. Meme hated driving in heavy rain, especially since the accident. Asking her to come would frighten her, and she would do it anyway.

Beau must have seen the hesitation on my face because his tone softened.

“I’ll take you home. We’ll deliver what we can along the way, and Jax can call the remaining customers to let them know the rest will arrive tomorrow.”

“You’re making an awful lot of decisions for someone who learned my name ten minutes ago.”

“You can make a better plan if you have one.”

I wanted to dislike him for that. Unfortunately, I didn’t have one.

“I don’t ride with strangers.”

“Then we should probably stop being strangers.” His eyes held mine, blue and steady, without the smugness I expected after a line like that.

“I’m Beau Jones,” he said. “That’s Jax. Our father is Walter, who apparently spent half his life fishing with your grandfather. We own Jones Automotive, neither of us has a criminal record that I know of, and my mother expects me at dinner every Sunday.”

Jax leaned against the desk. “He got a speeding ticket when he was nineteen.”

“Thank you, Jax.”

“Full disclosure matters.”

Despite myself, my mouth curved. Beau noticed, but he didn’t act as though he had accomplished something remarkable. He only waited.