Page 85 of I Can't Help It

“Pumpkins are totally fine though,” Wyatt drawls as I lead the way toward one of the side doors. “I’ll touch a hundred pumpkins.”

“Why would you touch a hundred pumpkins?” Luke grumbles.

Wyatt doesn’t skip a beat. “Because I’m basic AF. Oh! Did any of the booths have pumpkin spice lattes? I’m so serious right now. I didn’t have time for coffee this morning, because Trista was rushing me, and then she wouldn’t stop on the way here so I could get some.”

“Um, I’m not sure. We had cider and then I had a milkshake.” I glance at Luke. “Did you remember seeing a booth with pumpkin spice lattes?”

“I didn’t notice.” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I know you don’t like coffee, so I didn’t bother looking.”

Hold on. Is he upset with me? If anything, I should be upset with him for not coming clean to Wyatt! And for asking me to pretend there’s nothing going on between us!

“I’m sure one of the booths will have it.” Wyatt shrugs a shoulder, seemingly unaware of Luke’s attitude. “Pumpkin lattes are a fall necessity.”

Once we reach the side door, Luke immediately steps forward to open it before I can even grab the handle. He motions ahead of us, and I thank him as I walk outside, but he doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t even smile…

“Thanks, bro,” Wyatt says, joining me outside. “Now let’s find me some coffee.”

He strides ahead of us into the crowded atmosphere of the festival, but I grab Luke’s arm and tug him behind a stack of hay bales. I need answers first. We can catch up with Wyatt afterward.

“What’s going on?” I ask, widening my eyes at him. “I’m trying to keep it low-key like you said, but I can tell you’re upset.”

Luke sighs as he rubs the back of his neck. “I know I need to tell him. I just can’t think of the best way to do it. And honestly…” He tucks some hair behind my ear and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “I thought we’d have more time together first. Just the two of us.”

I melt under his touch and my body instinctively sways toward him. “Well, it’s just the two of us right now.”

He starts to protest. “Wyatt—”

“Wyatt is looking for his latte,” I interrupt, sliding my hand up his arm. “I’d say he’s pretty occupied.”

“We shouldn’t.”

And yet, his gaze flicks to my mouth.

I let my fingers trace the side of his neck. “He can’t see us.”

But just as I say those words, I can hear Wyatt.

He calls both of our names, and I silently curse his timing.

With a panicked look on his face, like he just found out that I have some kind of highly contagious disease, Luke yanks away from me. “We’re over here, Wy!”

“I thought you guys were right behind me?” Wyatt comes around the stack of hay bales with a paper cup in his hand. “I got my latte, so I’m good to go now.”

“Uh, Ava noticed that my shoelaces were untied, and we stopped so I could tie them, but then I got distracted by a bird.”

I try not to frown at the made-up explanation, but I don’t like the thought of flat-out lying to Wyatt, and I’m even more bothered when he accepts the lie without any hesitation.

“Gotcha, gotcha.” He bobs his head before taking a few sips of his latte. “Well, I saw a booth set up for axe-throwing, should we try that first?”

“Sure, why not?” Luke oozes nonchalance as he takes another step away from me. “I’ve got pretty good aim.”

Yep, I saw that firsthand when we played cornhole yesterday.

Wyatt proceeds to laugh. “Says the guy who totally missed the net and almost hit me with that puck when we played hockey last year.”

Luke mumbles something incoherent under his breath, but it sounds a lot like: Maybe I wasn’t aiming for the net.

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