Page 27 of Baking Spirits Bright!

It’s a kiss I never want to end. And it may never have ended, if Erica didn’t break it.

I lean back just enough to see her smiling. “What?”

She giggles. “I will need more info on your business, but that’s plenty of research to persuade me to look into Nashville apartments.”

“Is that so?” I wrap my arms tighter around her. “I’d be happy to be your guide for all things Nashville, all thingsSpoon of the South.” I pause and smile down at her. “And all things Ryan Lewis.”

“Best offer ever.”

I raise one hand and brush a piece of hair behind her ear, then rest my hand behind her head. “The only thing I’m interested in researching is you.”

Then I kiss her again, with anticipation of doing it many more times for the rest of our lives.

EPILOGUE

THE NEXT FALL

Erica

Ibreathe in the crisp air, happy it’s not as hot in Nashville as Apple Cart. Ryan pulls up on a tractor and lowers a round bale of hay.

We’re preparing his family pumpkin patch for opening day. I made a website and updated their Facebook page, then helped his mom come up with fun ways to showcase all the attractions spread out across the property.

Ryan’s job is to help set up round hay bales and paint them like pumpkins. Each pumpkin bale will mark a different activity at the farm. I also designed stamp cards for the guests. Anyone who visits all activities and turns in a fully stamped card gets a free ice cream on the way out.

The ice cream was Ryan’s idea. He invited a soft-serve food truck we found one night downtown. One of the many unique and fun places I’ve discovered since moving to Nashville.

I haven’t even lived here a full year, but this is a place I could see myself calling home.

My apartment is an easy walking distance from many restaurants, shops, and events. It’s also close to Ryan’s apartment and his office. I pass music stores and coffee shops on my morning jogs, rather than Paul peeing off the porch.

Sometimes I miss not living a few miles from my family, but I don’t miss the humdrum of a small town. It wasn’t for me. This is.

I glance at Ryan, and my heart skips a beat.

We have so much fun in the city, but also here at his family’s farm. It’s the perfect mix of city and country.

He climbs down from the tractor and smiles. I stop sorting pumpkins by sizes and return his smile.

“I painted all the hay bales on the back part of the property for the animal locations and ropes course area,” he says.

“Great, that was fast.”

“You want to ride out with me and see if they look okay?”

“Yeah.” I step around the pile of pumpkins and take his hand. He helps me up the tractor steps and pulls the passenger seat down.

We ride past several activities and attractions before I see any painted bales. I almost miss the first, since it isn’t painted like a pumpkin.

Bright orange paint is spread across the center and spells the word “Will.” Before I can question it, we pass another bale with the word “You.” It isn’t until the third bale that I realize what’s happening.

“Marry.”

The word is big and bold, followed by one more bale with the word “Me.”

Now I’m too in shock to question why the hay doesn’t look like a pumpkin. My stomach and head spin, but in different directions. I can hardly believe this is real.

We’ve talked about the future plenty and how I would like to stay in Nashville. Still, no conversation could’ve prepared me for this moment.

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