Page 34 of The Friendly Fall

He furrows his brow at me. “In case you want to sit down while we watch the parade? I don’t know, I thought your feet might get tired or something.”

I burst into laughter. “That’s super thoughtful, but I’m not eighty years old like Granny. I can stand, I promise.”

He freezes with the chairs suspended in the air, his muscles tense. “So, you want me to leave them?”

“Yeah, you can leave them.” I giggle as he shrugs and sets them back down in the bed of the truck. “It’ll save you the hassle too.”

He shrugs. “It’s not a hassle, but whatever makes you happy. That’s what matters.”

I follow him a block or two until we reach Main Street. It’s like Halloween Town meets the Fall Fair—a mixture of cute, spooky, and harvest-themed decorations colliding. There are boothseverywhere, along with alotof people.

“The parade starts in ten minutes,” Nick comments as he guides me to an open spot just in front of a booth filled with baked goods. The smell reminds me of everything there is to love about the fall season—pumpkin spice, apple cinnamon, and buttery pecan. It’s mouthwatering and amazing.

“So, you come every year?” I ask, looking up at his defined jaw, still shadowed with stubble.

“I never miss a year. But this is actually the first time I’m not running a booth or game. It’s kind of nice to just be able to attend without working, even though I do feel a little guilty about it.”

I nod.Of course, he feels guilty about it. Mr. Perfect Nick. “Well, it’s okay to take breaks and have a little fun every once in a while. It allows for a reset and all that.”

“Right.” He laughs. “You sound like my mom.”

“Ouch.” I snort. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

He shrugs. “She’s one of the best women I know. But to your point, it can be hard for me to take breaks. I prefer keeping my hands busy. Idle hands make for an idle mind.”

“Touché,” I agree, thinking of all the time I spend on social media, mindlessly creeping on people I barely know. “MaybeIshould be a little busier.”

“Nah, everyone has their own way of doing things.” He chuckles and points to the police car kicking on its lights. “It’s time for one heck of a parade!” He turns to me with a boyish sense of excitement that I can’t help but admire. “I’ll point out the floats I helped with.”

Ten minutes into the parade, I realize that Nick helped with almostallthe floats. I can’t decide if I’m shocked or unsurprised, given that he clearlyneverhas idle hands. But after laughing and dodging high schoolers chucking candy at us, I’m borderline relieved that it’s over.

But the sight of Nick waving at all the little kidswaspretty cute.

“So, what now?” I ask as the parade comes to a close, and the crowd begins to disperse. I know there’s way more to be seen.

“Well, what do you feel up to? There’s pumpkin painting, apple bobbing, food trucks, you know, the works. There’s even live music later.”

“Jeez, they haveeverything,” I say, letting out a giggle. “I like the idea of painting a pumpkin though. Do we get to keep them?”

“Of course,” Nick says, before gesturing to a large booth in a grassy area between buildings. I can already see the table set up from where we’re standing. I let Nick lead the way, and just a few moments later, we’re seated beside each other with aprons on and paintbrushes ready.

“Paint a portrait of me,” I joke, nudging him.

“I don’t think you want me to try that.” He laughs, shaking his head.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll paint a portrait of you, too.” I smirk.

“Okay, deal.”

I grin, dipping my brush into the paint as I take in the moment. There’s something about the way Nick is relaxed beside me that putsmeat ease. I don’t pay attention to the eyes on me, or the fact that I haven’t done any kind of socializing with anyone other than Nick.

And honestly, I don’t really mind.

“You have to promise not to judge my ramp-building skills based on my painting skills,” Nick says as he begins to paint my face on his pumpkin. We both chose small ones, and it’s probably a good thing because Nick’s pumpkin painting skills are …awful.

“You know, I thought I might get embarrassed once you saw how terrible I was,” I tease, gesturing to his lopsided triangle. “But I actually think Imightbe better than you at this.”

“Yeah?” He raises a playful brow before leaning over to look at the face I’ve drawn. I catch a whiff of his cologne, and suddenly, he feelsveryclose. His broad shoulders brush mine, and his forearm comes so close to my thigh that I find myself catching my breath. Clearing my throat, I shift away from him, and he leans back to where he was.

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