Page 64 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“About time we’re finally getting some entertainment here,” Mr. Peterson jokes, his eyes firmly on the unwelcome guests of Wayward Hollow. “Shame we don’t hunt people out of town with torches and pitchforks anymore.”
“Bobby!” Caleb gives him a mock stern glare, and I laugh quietly. He doesn’t seem the type to keep his pitchfork ready—not at all.
Mr. Peterson is your idea of a small-town dad personified—the one everyone loves, who gives advice when he knows you need it and stops to help you change a tire. He’s all grey hair, kind smile and deep laughing lines. Jensen also loves him, always making a beeline for him and falling asleep at his feet and today is no exception.
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone he talked badly about until Jay and Marissa came to town. Hell, he’s so nice he even got Caleb to warm up to him. I’m used to calling him by his last name—I addressed him as “Mr. Peterson” since I wasa child, and similarly to all my teachers, switching to his first name felt wrong.
“Give it three more weeks,” I tell him amusedly and lean my elbows on the counter. “They might still make enough …friendsfor that to happen. I already know five people who would love to volunteer.”
“Make that six,” Caleb adds gruffly, and I lean over the counter, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Why? What do you know?”
“That’s what I’m saying, boys—finally some proper gossip in this town.” Mr. Peterson leans in curiously too. “Come on now, tell us. Don’t be shy.”
Caleb’s eyes dart between me and Mr. Peterson, his resolve to stay out of gossip clearly struggling to prevail against his dislike for Jay and Marissa. Finally, his shoulders sag and he curses softly under his breath before he tells us.
“I heard Andrea kicked them out of her hotel yesterday,” Caleb whispers, eyes darting around the room to make sure nobody is listening in, wiping the already spotless counter with a cloth.
“She said they were screaming at each other the whole night, and when they started throwing vases at each other, she had to call in Erik. They wouldn’t leave, so he had the pleasure of escorting them and their stuff outside.”
“Please tell me he brought them straight to a jail cell?” Mr. Peterson asks, eyes twinkling with glee. “Bet that would beat some sense into them.” But Caleb shakes his head, and I swear a flash of disappointment crosses his face.
“Erik’s too nice for his own good.” I sigh and take a sip of my coffee. “I wish he’d send them off.” My eyes dart to the door when I hear the little chime announcing new guests, waiting until they’re seated at a table out of earshot. “Hey, has anyone else noticed that Erik’s acting kind of weird?”
“Not really,” Mr. Peterson says gruffly and takes a sip of his coffee. “He’s probably not used to anything of worth happening here. That boy has probably had to comb through his handbook to know what he needs to be doing.” His hearty chuckle tells me that he’s not saying it maliciously.
“How is Nic dealing with all this?” Caleb asks, and I do my best not to show my surprise. It’s not every day that he expresses curiosity about what’s going on in the city, much less about anyone’s emotions. “I saw her fighting with her sister a few days ago. For a moment, I got worried it would turn into a brawl.”
“She’s, you know, dealing with it her way, which means she’s quietly brooding about it.” I shrug and stir my coffee with the little spoon that came with it for a lack of something to do with my hands. “She’s angry at them, frustrated they won’t leave her alone, and annoyed that the whole town knows what happened. But what unnerves her the most is that there’s nothing Erik can do about them yet.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the pitchforks emerged sooner or later. Tell her to hang tight.” Mr. Peterson sighs and gets up, apologizing to Jensen when he wakes up. “If you’ll excuse me, lads, I’ll have to go sharpen mine. You know, just in case.” He winks at us and walks off, his cane clicking on the ground. He holds the door open for Nic, who was about to enter. Her eyes are focused forward as the town’s unwelcome guests try to accost her like some skeezy salespeople.
Jay and Marissa try to follow her inside, already babbling over each other about their “right” to her money and how she should “let the past be the past.” But one hard stare from Caleb, and they suddenly remember that they’re not welcome in his café.
“Hey,” she greets me with a tired grin and takes Mr. Peterson’s place. “I’d greet you with a kiss, but I fear that might make you a target.” She nods to the unwelcome guests, still outside, glaring at Caleb, who couldn’t give less of a fuck about their anger. “And trust me, you don’t want that.”
“I really want that kiss, though,” I say and purse my lips in a pout.
“I know,” she says sadly and releases a deep sigh. “But trust me. They’re not above lacing dog treats with rat poison. They would do a lot to get to me.” She waves at Caleb, who acknowledges her with a nod and turns to his coffee machine to make her latte macchiato.
“When I was little, I used to beg my parents to get me a hamster. It took me years until they finally gave in and let me have one. I was elated. Honestly, my eleven-year-old heart was on cloud nine. I called him Mr. Snuggles because he was the softest and cutest hamster ever.” A sad smile stretches her lips.
“Every evening, I’d spend an hour talking to him. I did everything—cleaned his cage, fed him, changed his water, and then one day …” She gulps, emotions tugging on her face. “She gave him chocolate. Put a whole damn bar in his cage. By the time I saw, he had suffered a slow and painful death.” Her eyes dart down to Jensen Ackles, who glances up as if to sayWhat’s that got to do with me?
“Jensen might have the best caretaker in the world, but I’m not putting him in danger by letting them know we’re together. It would mean the target on my back extends to you both, and I kind of like you two too much for that.”
“Wow, your sister is a psychopath,” Caleb grumbles, and I nod in agreement. How horrible.
The more I learn about her relationship with her sister, the more I loathe her family. How could her parents let Marissa get away with that? Therapy should have been the minimum course of action.
“Don’t I know it?” She sighs again and plays with the rim of her to-go cup. “She can have the sweetest demeanor when others are around though. In this case, she shed some crocodile tearsand told our parents it was an accident—she had no idea chocolate was poisonous to hamsters, even though I put a laminated list of no-no foods right over the cage soIwouldn’t mess up.” She shrugs and shakes her head, and I need to fight the urge to snake my arm around her and hold her tight.
“She’s a witch,” she continues in a rough whisper that tugs at my heart. “And she sure put a spell on my parents to make sure they’d always see her as that innocent little girl who deserves the world.”
“Let karma do its thing, honey.” Shawna suddenly appears with her tray and puts an order together behind the counter. “I’m sure they’ll get taught their lesson sooner or later.”
“I’ve been hoping for that for about half my life, Shawna,” she says with a deep sigh and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Your word in the universe’s ear.”
