Page 222 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Has four minutes.” He held out his hand and I took it. Beau drew me toward him, one hand settling at my waist while the other held mine.

“What are you doing?” I asked, looking up into his eyes and fighting the urge to get lost in them.

“Dancing.”

I laughed. “We’re not dancing.”

“We are now.”

“I don’t dance anymore.” The answer came automatically.

Beau’s expression didn’t change. He simply moved slowly enough that I could decide what my body wanted to do. My hand tightened against his shoulder.

It had been years.

Dancing required trusting balance in a way I no longer did instinctively. It required movement without planning each step.

His hand remained steady against my waist as a song played quietly around us.

Outside the kitchen window, the wind moved fallen leaves across his backyard.

I rested my cheek against his chest. “Your chicken’s going to burn.”

“Probably.”

“Very romantic.”

“I was doing better before you started criticizing me.”

I smiled.

When the timer went off a moment later, neither of us moved immediately. Eventually, I stepped back.

“Save dinner, I’m actually pretty hungry.”

Beau kissed my forehead. “Bossy.”

Dinner was ridiculously good. So good that I accused Margaret of making it. Beau threatened to throw me out. Dessert was an apple crisp pie, which he eventually admitted his mother had made.

We talked for almost two hours. Not about the accident. Not about ranch debt. Not about whether I was okay. We talked about stupid things.

Beau told me about the time Jax convinced him there was an alligator living in the creek behind their childhood home.

I told him about Pops accidentally terrifying half of Willow Creek with a haunted hayride.

He confessed he hated candy corn, and I considered leaving because it was my favorite Halloween candy.

By the time we moved to the couch, the bottle of wine we’d opened with dinner was mostly untouched, the plates were still on the table, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone an entire evening without thinking about something I needed to fix.

Beau sat beside me. His thigh pressed against mine. I looked toward the windows. The glass reflected the room back at us, but beyond it, I could make out leaves tumbling across the porch beneath the light.

“I like your house.”

“Yeah?”

“It feels like you.”

“Not sure if that’s a compliment.”