Page 1 of His Little Pumpkin
1
ELDON
Something’s different.
It tickles the edge of my consciousness as I go through the grocery store. The layout of the aisles hasn’t changed. The food I’m tossing into my cart is on the same shelves.
Then it hits me, and I drop my head in shame. To think it took me twenty minutes to realize that the autumn decorations have been put out. I used to be in the military, for Heaven’s sake. I was trained to be hyper aware of my surroundings.
I check my list one more time, then head for the cashier, realizing glumly that she is going to be the only woman I’ve spoken to in the past few weeks?
I’ll admit it: I’m lonely. But eating most of my meals with a group of rough ex-military men out on a horse rescue ranch isn’t exactly the way to find a woman.
The cashier, Pearl, has been much friendlier since I started remembering to ask about her kids. Just as she’s almost finished ringing me through, I add, “And I’ll take one of those pumpkins you have on display out front, thanks.”
Pearl’s eyes light up. “Getting in the spirit of autumn! Good for you.”
I grunt noncommittally, pick up my bags, and head out. The sky is darkening rapidly and a slight drizzle is starting. I set the bags in the back seat of the truck so they don’t get wet, then walk to where they have the pumpkins stacked in a huge bin. They’ve added fake leaves around the edge to make it look like a pumpkin patch. Cute.
I pick a dented one way at the back. I’m only baking with it, not decorating.
That’s when I hear the startled gasp. I lean in and see a small figure draped in a worn hoodie, huddled against the wall to avoid the rain.
Huge blue eyes peer out at me, and I suddenly feel a few forgotten parts of myself rearranging themselves in both my mind and my gut. Like clock gears shifting into place with an audible click.
The young woman can barely meet my eyes, shrinking back against the wall to avoid the heavy drizzle.
“Hey,” I say as gently as possible. “This rain is going to hit really hard in a couple of minutes. When the wind picks up, you’re going to freeze. I’m happy to drive you somewhere.”
She stands up straighter, the hood falling away slightly to give me a better view of her face.
Her precious, beautiful, sculpted-by-Michaelangelo face.
Suddenly, I don’t want to give her a lift because it’s the right thing to do. I want to because I need to keep her with me for as long as possible.
“Thank you,” she whispers. Or is it that her voice is hoarse? “But I don’t really have anywhere to go for a while.”
I stiffen at the idea she has nowhere safe to get out of the cold. “Where will you go, then?” I ask.
“Well, if one of my clients pays me within the next few hours…he’s supposed to…I should have enough money to spend the night at that motel on the other side of town.”
“You’ll be chilled to the bone by then.” Another click in the back of my mind. I can help herandkeep her with me. “Come to my work. I’ll keep you safe and warm for the afternoon, then drive you wherever you need to go.”
Her lips press together, drawing my full attention to the luscious curve of her perfect mouth. Her face is softly rounded, like that of an angel. It’s a perfect, pale setting for those wondrous blue eyes.
“I realize it’s weird to meet someone beside a makeshift pumpkin patch,” I grin, gesturing to the pile of damp orange shapes to my right and hoping my smile will set her mind at ease. “I work at a ranch. There will be people around. And horses.”
She smiles. “I love watching horses walk. It’s such a dainty gait for such a huge animal. I’d love to ride them, but I’m too allergic.”
“Well, I’m the cook there, and the kitchen window faces one of the corrals. A couple of the horses love the rain, they’ll be out walking.” Heavy drops are starting to smack the back of my head, but I just keep smiling reassuringly. “I’m Eldon.”
She takes a deep breath, then nods decisively. “Laura. Thank you.”
As soon as she’s safely in the truck, I turn the heat up full blast and hand her a plastic container. “Here. You look hungry. I was going to eat that on the drive, but I forgot.”
She pops it open and smells it. “Amazing. Thank you.”
Watching her devour the apple cinnamon scone, it’s hard to keep my attention on the road: I’d rather be staring at her perfect lips, or the way her delicate fingers are popping small bites of the pastry into her mouth.
