Page 73 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“Somebody is trying to sabotage Wayward Hollow’s beloved autumn festival.” The whole crowd gasps, shocked. Nic suddenly tenses in my hold, and I press my lips to her temple.
“There have been complaints filed for”—Harry checks a list in his hands—“improper food handling. The setup being against code. Fire hazards. Noise.” He shakes his head, listing off a few more items that sound more and more ridiculous.
“It’s them,” Nic whispers and lets her head fall against my shoulder. “It has to be.”
“If they wanted to anger the whole town, they certainly achieved that,” I murmur and take a deep breath.
“Now, I assure you that everything has the proper permits, and the setup has been double checked by the county’s fire department. The health department will be here tomorrow for another inspection, but I see no issues arising. Everyone, please know that it’s our highest priority to provide you a safe and fun autumn fair, as we have done every year.”
Harry scans the room. “And I do not appreciate someone trying to interfere with this festival that has been a staple in Wayward Hollow ever since the town was founded. If anyone has anything to say, please do so now.”
“I bet it’s that weird homeless couple!” Courtney exclaims, her husband nodding along vehemently as she earns a murmur of agreement from the rest of the town.
Nic’s eyes widen before her whole body starts shaking with laughter.
“Homeless couple,” she whispers, hiding her face behind her hand. “God, that’s golden.”
“Can’t we kick them out of town?” Andrea asks loudly, shaking her head. “Those two almost destroyed one of my hotel rooms. They’re bad news.”
“They always drive too fast too!” someone else speaks up. “They almost swiped my car. Three times!”
“I’m afraid ‘almost’ isn’t quite enough of a reason to run them out of town,” Harry says, not too happy with that assessment himself. “For now, we are fully cooperating with any departments that receive complaints because we are up to code. We have nothing to hide. But if any of you run into more issues with those two”—he takes a good look around the room—“tell me. I’ll see what’s possible. And no, ‘almost’ doing something doesn’t count.”
“Aw, man,” Lauren pouts, and I startle. When did she get over here? The rest of the room breaks into mumbles about their dissatisfaction as well until Harry claps his hands so loudly it makes Nic flinch.
“That’s all!” Harry states, and everyone streams out of Caleb’s, until its name giver, Lauren, Kieran, Nic, Jensen Ackles, and I are the only people left inside, silent anger brewing in all of us.
“Oh, thank God, I was getting claustrophobic,” Lauren whispers, still a little pale. Caleb slides a glass of water over the counter wordlessly, and she offers him a small smile before taking a tiny sip.
“We need a plan,” Lauren announces, determined, and takes a seat on one of the bar stools, the rest of us following suit. Apart from Caleb, who stays in his usual spot behind it, arms crossed in front of his chest and his signature unreadable expression on his face. “They can’t stay here.”
“You don’t say.” Nic rolls her eyes at her best friend. “But what can we do? Harry was right, ‘almost’ doesn’t quite cut it.”
“I’ve heard people mention pitchforks,” Lauren points out, and I laugh when I see the glee in Kieran’s eyes. “I vote that!”
“It’s sounds tempting,” Nic concedes with a shrug. “I can’t say I’d be opposed.”
Suddenly, Lauren’s phone buzzes, and she excuses herself, walking to the other end of the room to take the call.
“They did what?”
All of our heads whip around. Lauren stands as still as a statue, all of our eyes on her back as she listens to whatever the person on the other end tells her.
“Okay, thanks for letting me know. I’ll tell her.”
She turns around slowly, her face set in stone and jaw grinding ever so slightly. With an annoyed sigh, she lifts her hand to rub her forehead, probably wondering if she’s surrounded by idiots and is about to burst into a song about world domination.
“I have good news, and I have bad news,” Lauren says and looks at Nic, who is squeezing my hand as if it’s her personal stress toy.
“Bad news first,” she whispers, and Lauren nods.
“That was Massimo, wondering if I also got a weird message from someone claiming to be ‘looking out’for them”—she uses air quotations and rolls her eyes as she says it—“or sent screenshots of conversations you allegedly had about me.”
“Those fuckers,” I mutter, but Nic squeezes my hand again.
“And the good news?”
“He knows it’s bullshit.” Lauren shrugs, and the corner of her lip twitches. “And everyone else he’s talked to also knows this is a setup. He says ‘hi’ and hopes you’re well, and if you need a witness statement from him or anything, let him know.”
