Page 72 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
It was time for another long hike, somewhere far enough from civilization for him to run wild and free without spooking other dogs or cows. And by that, I mean a whole twenty minutes outside of Wayward Hollow, a spot with vast grassland and beautiful hills as far as we can see. I love this spot, especially in spring when the entire scenery is a giant flower ocean.
Though it’s not any less photogenic in fall, with trees turning orange in the distance and leaves in all kinds of autumn colors flying around us.
Jensen yawns, clearly exhausted from running around as he trots beside me, ready for a warm, soft spot to take a nap in. Good thing it’s only a few more minutes to where I parked the car, where he can do exactly that.
As I walk, I can’t stop thinking about Lauren’s text. What’s going on? With the state things are in and how little information Lauren messaged me, this could be about anything. Did Jay and Marissa pick another fight with Nic? Did Mr. Peterson actually bring out the pitchforks? Maybe Chaos brought another cat to Nic. What if I get into Wayward Hollow and the whole town is on fire?
I pick up my pace as we make our way back to the car: I drive to Caleb’s at what must be record speed for me. Curiosity and a sense of impending doom weigh on my shoulders, as worry about Nic gnaws at my conscience.
My car comes to a screeching halt in front of Caleb’s, and my eyes flick around, confused. There’s nobody around, which is not surprising for Wayward Hollow on a late Sunday afternoon. The windows are dark, and I can’t see movement inside. Is it closed?
Right. It’s Sunday. He’s usually closed today, but why would Lauren order me here then? Did she get it wrong?
I’m about to call her when I see her head pop out the door, quickly waving at Jensen and motioning for us to hurry inside.
“What’s going on?” I ask her once the door closes behind us, somehow compelled to whisper.
“It’s a town meeting,” she answers just as softly with a mischievous grin, though her eyes dart around nervously.
“What the—?” It’s packed at Caleb’s. Jensen immediately wants to race off to meet his favorite people. I hand the leash to the first person who falls victim to his charm, knowing full well I’ll get him back by the end of whatever the hell is happening here.
I can’t remember the last time anyone called a town meeting. And when they did, we met up in the town square.
“Is the whole town here?” I ask, surprised when I internally tally up who I see.
“Henry.” Lauren gives me a hard stare. “I’m new here. How would I know?”
“You’ve got a good point,” I admit. Bewildered, I make my way through the crowd over to Caleb and find Nic leaning against the counter, her face breaking into a smile as I get closer. Lauren stays where she is, eyes darting around the room uneasily.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I greet Nic with a quick kiss and put my arm around her shoulder.
“Hey, hot stuff,” she whispers with a grin and snakes her arm around my middle. I glance over her head at Caleb, who isn’t impressed at all.
I am, though. I never would have guessed that the café could host the whole damned town if it had to. “What in the ever-loving fuck is going on here?”
“Trust me, I’d love to know too.” His arms are crossed over his chest, and he shakes his head at someone trying to place an order. “Apparently, I’m hosting, but all I got was a message from Harry telling me to show up, and then boom, he ambushed me into opening the place for a town meeting.” He mutters a curse under his breath.
“I didn’t even get a heads-up. And don’t give me those puppy eyes. I’m not firing up the coffee machines. They take forever to heat, then forever to clean, and at this point, it’s about the principle. They can’t warn me, nobody gets coffee.” He curses more about how that would fuck with his inventory when suddenly a loud voice booms over the confused murmur.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
Harry has climbed onto one of the tables, swaying dangerously, and I can see Caleb’s face turning red with anger as he quickly scans the countertop for something to throw. I bet that right about now, he wishes he had opened up and had a mug handy.
“Get down from there, Harry! I got no insurance if you fall on your damned face because you decided to play Tarzan in my coffee shop!”
Caleb has never been Harry’s biggest fan as is. In fact, he loathes the man who always reminds me of the horse from Tangled. Not because he has a long face, but because he can get that same unhinged, wide-eyed look in his eyes. He’s the head of our town’s council and when Caleb first opened up the café, they had some run-ins that left a sour taste in his mouth.
There was the time Harry demanded he painted the sign for his café green—not for any particular reason, but because he thought it would match the town’s aesthetic better.
But despite his HOA comparable pettiness, overall, Harry is all right. Now that he finally has grandchildren, he complains much less about small details.
“All right, all right,” Harry mutters and climbs down, the town collectively gasping when he sways as if he loses his balance. Instead, he motions for everyone else to sit down and only continues once they do.
“I am sorry for this impromptu meeting, but there is something urgent we need to talk about collectively, as a town, regarding the autumn fair this weekend.”
Everyone quiets down, not even a whisper in the room, anxiety turning the air into thick syrup.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Peterson asks, swinging his cane.
