Page 227 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“I’m serious. It’s unsettling.”

My attention returned to the festival grounds. October had finally gotten around to looking like October. The first weekend had still carried too much summer with it. Green fields. Green trees. Afternoons were warm enough that everyone regretted whatever flannel they’d worn for pictures.

A week later, Willow Creek was changing.

Gold had begun creeping through the oaks surrounding Marigold. The maples along the drive were farther ahead, their leaves burning red and orange against a sky so blue it almost looked fake. Wind pushed the fallen ones into piles against fence posts, and sent others skittering across the gravel.

Someone had hung another hundred feet of orange lights through the trees since last weekend.

I suspected Rosie.

The ranch looked different every time I came out here, and so did Carson.

I found her near the pumpkin patch.

She wore jeans today, boots dusty to the ankles, and a Marigold sweatshirt tied around her waist because the morning chill had already surrendered to a warm afternoon. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she had one hand planted on her hip while she listened to a vendor explain something.

A little girl ran past them carrying a pumpkin nearly as big as she was. Carson moved out of her way without looking. The shift was small enough that nobody else would’ve noticed, but I did. I noticed everything about her now.

I knew when she’d been wearing her prosthetic too long because the rhythm of her steps changed slightly. I knew she hated eggs, stole food off my plate after insisting she wasn’t hungry, and slept better if the room was cold enough to make a normal person consider hypothermia.

I knew she liked exactly one kind of coffee creamer, and had mocked me for buying it until she’d used nearly half the bottle.

I knew she’d left a hair tie on my bathroom counter three days ago.

“You’re doing it again,” Jax said.

“What?”

“Staring.”

“I’m watching the entrance.”

“The entrance is the other direction.”

I looked at him, rolling my eyes at his smug grin. Before I could tell him where to go, Carson spotted us.

“Don’t you have something to fix?” I asked my annoying older brother.

“Nope.”

“Find Rosie to bother.”

“Good talk.” He clapped my shoulder as he walked away.

Carson met me halfway across the grass. “You’re late.”

“It’s nine fourteen.”

“You said nine.” She reached for my coffee. I moved it away and her green eyes narrowed.

“Get your own.”

“I’ve been here since six.”

“Sounds like poor planning.”

She stared at me with a small pout, and I handed it over. “Thank you.” She drank from it and made a face. “You didn’t put enough creamer in this.”