Page 88 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
Because the way he calls me sweetheart? It gives me warm fuzzies.
I kind of live for it, and for his possessive streak. Especially now that a few nosy paparazzi pop up in town from time to time, clearly bored and hoping for another scandal.
Too bad for them, the most exciting thing they’ve caught is me walking Jensen, visiting Henry at work, and the two of us strolling around happier than a Hallmark couple, arm in arm, unbothered and utterly uneventful.
Come to think of it, it’s been a few days since the last one showed up. Maybe they finally had enough.
“Oh, you know”—he grins—“the usual. There was a sheep that got stuck in a fence that had some superficial wounds. A horse with a pebble in its hoof, a cat that needed its claws clipped. And a cow about to explode. The usual.”
“Hold on, hold on,” I say, turning in my seat to glance at him, gently petting his hand as I repeat slowly, “Acowabout toexplode? I’m going to need details on that.”
“Some cows have digestion issues that lead to a buildup of gas,” he explains patiently.
I listen closely. God, I never thought I’d care about cow farts this much, but I’m hanging on to his every word as if there’s nothing else I’d rather know.
“And then what? They justpoplike a balloon?”
“Before that can happen, we put in a small vent to let the air out,” he explains, and my face stretches into a grimace, nose scrunching as I try to imagine that. “Back in college, a few guys tried to light the escaping gas on fire, which would work in theory, I guess, but our instructors quickly jumped in.”
“That sounds painful,” I point out and he nods.
“Not as painful as being so bloated you’re about to explode.” He smiles and steals the little biscuit from my saucer.
“In the afternoon, a woman came in with the cutest bunnies,” he whispers, his eyes drifting to Lauren and Kieran, who are now deep in a debate about the best mashed potato recipe. “All long ears and fluff. One of them was brown, with light sprinkles all over its front. Totally reminded me of cinnamon.”
“Aww. Maybe they were brothers in another life,” I say dramatically, and he grins.
“Maybe.”
My eyes drift toward the front door when the bell chimes, and I freeze for a second, surprised to see Erik walk in wearing his uniform.
“What is he doing here?” I whisper, eyebrows knitting in confusion. Henry follows my gaze, and frowns.
“Huh. I thought he stopped drinking coffee after two.”
“Seriously? How do you know that?” I ask, surprised, shaking my head when he only gives me a pointed look, the corners of his mouth twitching. “God, in this town, everyone’s up in everyone’s business. I love it.”
“Hell yes we are.” Henry leans closer, whispering in my ear in a low voice, “I know that Mr. Peterson had a New Year’s resolution to stop drinking coffee entirely. He lasted about two days.” His grin turns evil. “The whole town also knows that our cute, kind flower shop owners are really into BDSM.”
My eyes widen. “How in thehelldo you—?” I can’t even finish the sentence, staring at him, mouth agape.Thatkind of gossip also makes the rounds here?
Then again, Lauren and Ididwonder if the town’s dark secret was an underground kink commune.
“That’s not important,” he says, but I quickly shake my head in disagreement, narrowing my eyes at him.
“If anyone in this towneverfinds out aboutoursexual preferences …” I hiss and point my index finger at him. “I’m going to feed you to the fishes. I’ll tell everyone you demand to be called ‘Mommy’ or suckle your thumb when you come.”
“All right, all right,” he laughs, hands raised in surrender. “I’m not telling a soul. Calm down.”
“Hey, Nic, do you have a minute?” Erik suddenly appears at our table and I glance up at him, surprised.
“Sure, Erik, what’s up? Grab a chair, take a seat.” His eyes scan the rest of the table before he shrugs and does exactly that.
“I’m guessing y’all don’t have any secrets from each other?”
“Well, actually …” Lauren says and looks at me with a mysterious glint in her eye, and I just know she caught the tail end of our conversation.
So I throw a piece of my napkin at her. “No, we don’t,” I say louder than she did, turning my focus back to Erik. “Is everything okay?”
