Page 28 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Is she in there?”

“Yes.”

“Carson Rome?”

“Yes.”

“Since when do you know Carson Rome?”

“Since approximately two hours ago.”

Rosie’s eyes narrowed with interest.

I pointed toward the milk. “Sign the invoice.”

“That doesn’t answer any of my important questions.”

“They weren’t important.”

“They were to me.”

“Sign, Rosie.”

She signed but continued watching my truck.

By the time I returned, Carson had turned sideways in the passenger seat and was reading something on her phone. She locked the screen the moment I opened the door.

“Rosie asked six questions about you,” I said after climbing inside.

“That’s fewer than I expected.”

“She wanted to know why you were in my truck.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That yours broke down.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Carson looked almost suspicious. “She accepted that?”

“No. But I left before she could continue.”

“That’ll only encourage her.”

“I gathered that.”

We drove another four blocks to Willow Creek Grocery, where Carson insisted on coming inside. She argued that the store manager needed to sign revised paperwork because the order was incomplete, and after watching her expression harden, I decided that particular battle wasn’t worth fighting.

She moved carefully when she stepped down from the truck. The hesitation was small enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed, but I did. Her hand tightened on the door frame, and she waited a beat before shifting her full weight forward.

“You all right?” I asked.

Her back straightened. “I’m fine.” She bit out.

The answer arrived way too quickly. Like she certainly wasn’t fine, but I said nothing, only remained beside her until she started walking.