Page 19 of Falling for the Veterinarian

“Squash!” He laughs at his own joke. Some other people do too, but most of the crowd just gives him humorous grunts.

“Ok, last one. What does a carved pumpkin celebrate?” He pauses for dramatic effect. “HOLLOW-een,” he finishes with a chuckle. I can’t help but giggle at how much these puns delight him.

“I see you like dad jokes,” a deep, vaguely familiar voice says next to me.

The smile slides off my face like water off a duck’s back. I glare at Dr. Walker, the coffee thief. “Yes, I do,” I testily reply, just daring him to make fun of me.

He leans in close so only I can hear. “That’s kind of cute.” My heart gallops at the whisper. Why does he have to be so charming?

“… now let’s see here. Oh yes, there is the reigning champion, three years in a row! Dr. Zachery Walker. Come on up here, Doc!” the Sheriff calls.

He saunters up the stage but not before he gives me a side smirk. Dang, he’s so sexy. I push aside the flutter of attraction. i have focus and win this competition.That’s the only way to knock the arrogant jerk off his throne.

He gets on stage, grabbing the microphone from the sheriff. “Thank you, Sheriff Dewy. I have some tricks up my sleeve this year that are really going to wow you. If you think you can beat me, I’d love the healthy competition. Be warned, I’m definitely looking to win my fourth consecutive championship!” He hands the mic back to Sheriff Dewy. They shake hands and laugh at an inaudible exchange. Zach’s smile is contagious. It's filled with a special warmth. His kindness, muscular body, and baby-blue eyes make him irritably enticing.

“Alright folks, all those competing in the pumpkin carving contest, please form a line on the left side of the stage here. Each of you will receive a pumpkin to use for tomorrow. As the champion, Zach gets the first choice. Then he will pick a pumpkin for each participant.”

The crowd laughs good-heartedly at the last comment. Zach, of course, makes a show of it with an evil smirk on his face.

Twelve people, including me and Zach, stand in line to retrieve our pumpkins. Zach has a real opportunity to hose the competition, but he kindly picks the best pumpkin for the first person. He of course grabs the biggest pumpkin for himself, then divides the rest based on the size and age of the person. Maybe he’s not so awful after all. I am fourth in line. He grabs the second-largest pumpkin and hands it to me.

“Sarah.” He stares deeply into my eyes. I want to be angry with him, but he’s so dang captivating.

“Now, folks, as Doc finishes handing out the pumpkins, here are the rules,” the Sheriff announces. Zach breaks eye contact first. He hands the ten-year-old girl next to me a pumpkin just her size.

“No precutting your pumpkins, but you may mark and map out your intended design. Be back here with your tools at 11 a.m. sharp, and you will have two hours to make your jack-o-lantern.” The crowd claps their hands. Dusk is upon us and the glow casts an orange color perfect for this crisp autumn evening. The café-style lights flash on and light the whole festival, creating magic in the air. It a whole Stars Hollow vibe and I am here for it.

My pumpkin is at least eight pounds. I stroll back towards the car when I hear quick steps rushing up to me.

“Can I carry that for you?” Zach asks.

“Um, sure.” I hand him the gourd. He shifts to carry his and mine. I smile and say, “Thanks.”

“You have plans tonight?” Zach inquires.

“No, not really. I was just going to spend some time with Maggie,” I say.

“I’m sure Maggie will be just fine for a little while. Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

“Um, I’m not really hungry.” His shoulders slump in disappointment and he looks at the floor.

“Besides,” I continue, “I need to strategize on how I’m going to beat the pumpkin carving king.” I wink at him. His eyes brighten.

“Not possible,” he laughs.

“I have ninja carving skills,” I joke. “Just wait and see.”

I open the passenger side of my truck so he can put the pumpkin on the seat. I buckle the pumpkin in tight, and he laughs.

“What? I’m not getting disqualified for a smashed pumpkin,” I respond with feigned indignation. I walk over to the driver’s side of the truck. He opens the door for me.

“You’re quite the gentleman when you’re not stealing coffee,” I say.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Won’t happen again,” he says. “See you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I flirt. He turns and starts to walk away.Ugh, what are you doing, Sarah?I put my head on the steering wheel.

HONK!

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