Page 88 of Love in Mission City
Wyatt chuckled. “I think he wanted more than a pumpkin from you, Clay.”
I shook my head. “No, he kept buying pumpkins. I told him he could buy them from you guys—”
Tate burst out laughing. “You’re not really that dense, are you?”
“I…” I blinked. I’d been attracted to him, but he hadn’t seemed that into me. “Really? You mean…?” I might’ve moaned that.
Tate snagged something from behind the empty crates. “We saved this for you. Wyatt’s mama’s pie. Why don’t you take it? We’ve got that one left.”
“Okay. I still have a couple of pumpkins left. Do you want them back? I’ll never use them.” I lived in an apartment, and although I could put the jack-o'-lanterns on my balcony, no one would actually be able to see them between the iron bars.
Wyatt waved me off. “Nah, you keep them. Or maybe you should go and visit Ashton. Maybe he wants one after all.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea.” I snagged the box with the last two pumpkins from my table on the way out of the hall.
A little chaos ensued at the doors as everyone was trying to all get their stuff out at the same time.
I sidestepped the mess and headed out to my old car. I loaded the last two pumpkins into my trunk, laid the precious pumpkin pie onto my front seat, then headed out toward Old Mill Road.
Not that there’d ever been a mill. Town lore was the road had been named Miller Road, but the town had a beef with how Old Man Miller kept expanding the boundaries of his property without actually buying the adjacent land. The confrontation hadn’t gone well, and the town decided, according to legend, to rename the street.
Or so I’d heard. After living in Mission City my entire life, I sometimes struggled with what was true, what was fiction, what my mind remembered, and the gaps I’d filled in.If you really cared, you could head down to the library and ask Loriana. Ah, but I didn’t care that much.
When I made the turn into the driveway, I noticed how Ashton’s property was more tamed wilderness than manicured lawn with ornaments and fresh, green grass. I liked the slightly wild look.
I got to the house, killed the engine, and glanced out the windshield.
To find six pumpkins neatly in a row on the front-porch railing. Only one was actually carved—the one I’d done. I exited the car, ambled up the stairs, and knocked on the door.
Ashton opened it. His eyes went wide. “Clay…”
“Hey, Ashton.” I gestured toward the pumpkins. “I thought you said you mucked them up, and didn’t you say one collapsed?”
Ashton’s cheeks heated.
Damn. How had I never noticed those cheekbones? Stunning. I cleared my throat—and halted my spiraling-into-sexy-times thoughts. “It wouldn’t have been just an excuse to talk to me, would it?
“Um. Uh…” He winced. “Damn.”
“I guess you’re not interested in the other seven pumpkins I have in my car? That I brought out here for you?” I only had two, but somehow evenIunderstood pumpkins weren’t the point.
“Uh…”
“I was going to offer to show you how to carve another one. If you’re interested…”
Yep, that’s an interesting shade of magenta he’s turning.
“I could, uh, pretend to be interested for at least an hour if that means you’ll come inside. And talk to me?”
I huffed in exasperation. “How about I leave the pumpkins in the car and bring in the pumpkin pie Wyatt gave me that his mom baked? We can sit at the table, eat a slice of pie—”
“With vanilla ice cream?”
“—with vanilla ice cream. If you can get up the courage to ask me out by the time we’ve finished the pie, I’ll sayyesimmediately.”
“What…” He cleared his throat. “What if I can’t get up the courage by the time we finish?”
“Then I’ll just have to come around tomorrow and find some other excuse to spend time with you.” I’d come after work and,hell, I didn’t even know what he did. Somehow, none of that mattered.
