Page 38 of Country Mist

“Which would you prefer?” Tyson guided her up to the display. “Candy or caramel?”

“I haven’t had a caramel one in forever.” She gestured toward a medium-sized version covered in nuts and milk chocolate, drizzled with white chocolate. “That one looks amazing.”

He bought it along with a candy apple for himself and two bottles of pumpkin spice beer. They ate their treat and drank the beer as they went toward Apple Amy’s store. When they finished eating and drinking, they tossed the sticks and beer bottles then went inside to buy some pies.

Now carrying pies and their bags of candy, they wandered over to the pumpkin-picking area. Haylee chose a tall, medium-sized one, picturing the crazy face she’d carve into it. Tyson’s was medium and round.

“I’ll carry these if you can manage the bags of pies,” he said.

She took his bag. “I’ve got ’em.”

“Have you made pumpkin pies?” he asked as they carried their loot to his truck.

She nodded. “One of my favorite versions is a deep-dish pumpkin mousse. I’m not bad at pies—some of them. I make a pretty good lemon merengue, too.”

“You did say you liked to bake.” He unlocked his truck as they reached it. “I’m willing to be your taste tester.”

“You are formally offered the position.” She waited as he loaded the squash and candy bags. He took the pie boxes from her and put them onto the back seat.

It was almost dark when they made their way to the hayride starting point, and lights were ablaze around Apple Amy’s in the not-so-far distance.

Three couples and a few teenagers waited for the next hay wagon as it approached with the clop of horse hooves and jingle of the reins.

Two beautiful roan horses drew the wagon to a stop. Tyson helped Haylee up, swung himself into the back, and settled beside her in the straw. The driver waited for everyone to load up, and then the wagon lurched forward and jolted into motion.

“I left my sweater in your truck.” The desert cooled off quickly when the sun went down, and Haylee’s skin had chilled.

“Maybe this will help.” Tyson rested his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, and she leaned into his body heat.

“It does.” She wriggled against him and looked at the harvest moon on the horizon. “The moon looks so big.”

“It’s beautiful.” He squeezed her to him, and she felt warm within and cared for in his embrace. “You are even more so. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all day.”

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “You’re sweet.”

“Nothing sweet about me.” He moved his lips close to her ear. “Nothing at all.”

She shivered at his nearness and the warmth of his breath on her skin. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said lightly, but her words came out low and throaty, indicating how much he affected her.

She rested her head against his chest and listened to the sound of his heartbeat, the teenagers’ laughter, and the other couples’ murmurs. It had grown dark save for the yellow-orange light of the harvest moon.

It felt cozy and intimate despite the others as if it were just the two of them. Tyson nuzzled her hair, and she let out a shaky breath. She tipped her face and looked into his gaze as he raised his head.

He moved his lips to hers, kissing her softly as they rocked in motion with the movement of the hay wagon. The straw felt itchy through her clothing, but it was a minor discomfort compared to the way Tyson made her feel with the intensity of his kiss.

He kissed her so long and sweet, and she tasted candy apple and the pumpkin-spiced beer on his tongue. It pleasantly combined with his masculine flavor.

Heat pooled in her abdomen as he kissed her. The low murmur of voices seemed more distant as Tyson moved his lips over her.

He slid his fingers over her belly, resting it beneath her breasts. She wanted him to move his hand up farther, to cup the weight of one.

He shifted against her, his big body hiding hers so that no one could see a thing, then moved his hand exactly where she wanted it. She sucked in her breath as he traced her nipple with his thumb, sending shards of desire through her.

She moaned into his mouth and wriggled beneath him, silently begging for more. He obliged and moved his hand to her other breast, teasing the nipple with brushes of his thumb, then pinching and pulling it between his thumb and forefinger.

The desire to beg him for more was so strong that she had to fight to hold it back. For one, it was the wrong place. For another, she didn’t want him to think she wanted to return to his ranch instead of her own home. It would be so tempting.

“We need to stop.” He let out a low groan and placed his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.” His words came out low and almost harsh. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

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