Page 84 of Love in Mission City
Tristan whacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Apologies.”
“No worries.” Ashton smiled. “I was pretty quiet. I spent a lot of time in the library.”
“Right, weren’t you a fan of—”
“Yeah, but that was then.” Ashton’s cheeks colored a bright pink.
Tristan chuckled. “That’s fair. I’m sorry I didn’t remember you right away.”
“I’ve…grown.”
“No kidding.” He eyed the man. “You’re taller than me now.”
“About the same height,” Olivia corrected.
“I was…” Ashton eyed me. “Shorter.”
Was he trying to send me some kind of message? If he was, clearly I was too dense to figure it out. I handed over the jars.
Olivia and Tristan thanked me and moved on.
Two people waited to take their place.
“Let me just buy this pumpkin and two others. Then I’ll be on my way.” Ashton retrieved his wallet.
Not wanting to be difficult in front of potential customers, I took the bills he thrust into my hands.
He put two smaller pumpkins into cloth bags, scooped up the carved pumpkin, offered me one last smile, then took off.
Either I’m clueless or he’s the worst pumpkin carver ever.
I put on a charming smile and helped the next customer.
Chapter Five
Clay
Ifinished arranging my display with a grin on my face. A goofy grin. I’d made a huge deposit to the bank last night and crunched my numbers. Far beyond my expectations, and we had today left.
Sundays could be hit-and-miss with these markets. Plenty of folk attended church—and then at least some of those folk made their way to us. Plus other people who’d been busy yesterday.
I had enough stock to make it through today.
Or so I believed.
Running out wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not with the beautiful cards I could hand out with a QR code and the offer of a discount for orders with multiple purchases. People loved deals. These days especially.
The shrill whistle barely penetrated my brain before Ashton presented himself before me.
He huffed a little, as if he’d run.
“Hey. Please tell me it worked this time.” I anticipated, hopefully, being busier today. I wouldn’t have time to carve another pumpkin.
“Yeah, I did fine. Look—”
“I told you we had to hurry.” A slightly harried-looking woman with wild, long, curly black hair and stunning dark-brown eyes approached. “Oh, good, we’re second in line.”
A much-taller blond man stood behind her, pushing a baby stroller. “Alessandra, I’m certain he’s not going to sell out.”
