Page 57 of Worst in Show

“That’s what Leo said, too. It’s not that many.” His exact words at the pumpkin patch were “The dogs are going to have to ride on the roof if you keep this up.”

He was grossly exaggerating, of course. I have twelve full-sized pumpkins and ten smaller ones interspersed around the store and in the entryway, and I didn’t even get all of them at the patch. I picked up a few more at the grocery store yesterday.

I’m balancing on top of a ladder by the window, stringing up leaf garlands I found in storage. It wobbles precariously beneath me. “All of those supplies need to be set up outside. Start with that.” I point to bins of foam pumpkins, popsicle sticks, felt scraps, glitter glue, crayons, stickers, and googly eyes. I’ve posted to social media and put fliers up all over town. The idea is that families will stop by to make their own pumpkin to display in my window, and then people vote for their favorite. I’ll announce the winner on Halloween, and they get a twenty-dollar gift card to the store.

Micki pulls out her phone and takes a picture of me. “For your Instagram. It’s cute. Very Martha Stewart.”

“Because that’s the image I’m going for.” I finish tying the garland and climb down.

“It’s personable, and that’s on-brand for Happy Paws.” She shows me the photo. “See, you look pretty, too.”

The morning light from the window hits my face like a diffused spotlight, and she’s right, it does do me favors. Unlike some other candids she snapped of me this past week, I don’t hate this one. “Okay, send it to me.”

“So, do we not get to actually carve pumpkins?” Micki asks, tucking her phone back in her pocket.

“Maybe later. We can’t have knives lying about with kids around.”

“Because I’m freaking fabulous at pumpkin carving. Where do you want these?” She holds up an armful of cornstalks I got from Diane and Dawn.

I look around the store, and it’s pretty darn festive already if I may say so myself. No way is Leo going to beat me at this. “How are things outside? Maybe put a few next to the door in the corner there. Can we tie some of them to the tables somehow?”

“If we trim them shorter maybe?”

We’re trying to figure it out when Leo comes up behind us. “What’s going on over here?” His gaze skims all my decorations, lingering on the stacked pumpkins framing the entry to Happy Paws.

“A small event I’m doing today.”

“The pumpkin craft thing.” He nods. “I saw your post.”

“Yeah, our girl is rocking the interwebs these days,” Micki says a little too loudly.

Our girl? I throw her a glare, but if Leo thinks she’s being overly familiar, he doesn’t show it.

“I’d like to make one,” he says. “Or are you not open for business yet?”

“See, I told you,” Micki says to me. “He doesn’t hate Halloween.” She hands him a foam pumpkin. “Knock yourself out.”

Leo takes it but doesn’t move. He looks from her to me, a smile lighting up his already bright blues. “You’ve been talking about me?”

Crap. I take my time finishing tying a stalk to the table leg and stand up. “Only to tell her I’ll be winning our bet since you don’t care for the holiday.” Nice save.

“Ah.” He reaches for a popsicle stick, glue, and felt. “Dream on.”

I take a step closer to him. “I don’t have to. My position is firmly anchored in reality, thank you very much.”

He mimics my stance, and now there are only feet separating us. I’ve been close to him in the car before, but face-to-face like this, a weird tension forms between us—like a tether. It makes me want to hook my fingers through his belt loops and tell him all about my favorite memories from childhood. The mild, chalky-sweet scent of the open glue stick he’s holding ties the past and present together.

He looks down at me. “And mine’s not?”

I pull my gaze off his and direct it toward Canine King where Jaz is waving through the window. “You have one sorry pumpkin outside your store. Winning!”

He scoffs. “Maybe I have plans you don’t know about.”

An alarm goes off in my head. Maybe he does. I should prepare. I cannot let him win.

“I could seriously watch you guys do this all day,” Micki says with a giggle from the other side of the table. “You’re too much, both of you.”

I take a step back, the bubble we were just in now burst. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

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