Page 20 of A Heart On A Sleeve

twelve

Sam

A Princess That Turns into a Pumpkin

“Do I go casual or what?” The phone crackles on the other end with the occasional slam of a microwave door or cabinet.

“What now? I gotta be honest, I’m a little busy getting things together around here, man.” I know Xav is hustling around his house, trying to prep essentials for when the baby comes, and I can hear Cami yelling things in the background, adding to his mounting list.

“What should I wear on a first date?” I repeat the question, annoyed that I’m nervous enough to seek fashion advice from my friend.

“You got it bad, bro. Hey, Cami, what should Sam wear on his first date?” I hear her shout something in response but it’s muffled by Xavier’s laughter.

“She said . . .” He wheezes. “Wear jeans and a nice flannel. She also told me to make sure I put this in my best man speech.” His chuckles hit the line again, and I can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Very funny. When you call me to help fend off your daughter’s prom date, I’m going to laugh in your face.”

“It still could be a boy, and if not, she will never date,” he quips back.

“Nah, it’s a girl. It’s what you deserve after this phone call.” I smile into the phone, picturing him with an adorable baby girl bouncing around. He’s going to be a fantastic dad. “I’m going to let you go. Call me if Cami goes into labor.”

“Not for a few more weeks, bro. Good luck. And, Sam? Be yourself.” He hangs up, and a small pang of jealousy burrows into my belly. I want what he has.

I shake off the thought and sift through my closet, searching for the blue-and-black flannel my mom got me for Christmas last year.

Spotting it, I quickly grab it, give it a spritz of cologne, and toss it over my arm as I head into the bathroom for one final beard and hair check.

I brush my teeth, put on my shirt, grab my wallet, and head out the door.

I’m rounding my old blue Chevy when the nerves hit their peak.

What if I mess this up or she realizes I’m too different from her?

My palms start to sweat as I open the door to jump in behind the wheel.

I should’ve gotten flowers or something to give her, but I planned to buy her something where we were headed.

I turn the key in the ignition, firing my truck up, the smooth rumble mimicking the tension coiling through me.

Looking behind me and slowly backing up, I slam on the brakes. What the hell is my mom doing here?

I throw it in park and roll down the window as she approaches. “Hey, Ma, what-ah-ya doing? I’m headed out.” She approaches with a smile on her lips, eyes twinkling.

“I know. Your father told me it’s your first date.” Her eyes glisten with joy, or maybe anticipation. “I brought you something to share with Olive. I think it might help you win her over.” She hands me a plate of brown butter pumpkin cookies and steps back from the window.

“Mom, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Shouldn’t you want her to win me over?” I remind her who her child actually is, even though the thought of earning anything with Olive makes my heart skip a beat. I shouldn’t feel this way about someone I barely know.

“I said what I said, Samuel. A mother always knows what’s best. Now don’t mess it up,” she warns me off with a finger pointed directly at my chest.

“Yes, ma’am. Now can I go, or did you want me to be late?” I sigh heavily, widening my eyes at her.

“Go, don’t keep her waiting.” She shoos me out of the driveway like she isn’t the one who caused this delay. A part of me could be annoyed that she’s so invested in my life, but the wafting scent of freshly baked cookies quickly evaporates the thought. Okay, Ma, I’m going to get our girl.

I don’t live far from Olive, just a few blocks, and I’m pulling up to the curb in front of her cottage in no time.

The decor Dad and I put out still looks fantastic, even though it’s been a couple of days.

Walking up to the door, I take in the view, picturing her sitting on the porch swing, reading a book or drinking her coffee.

I rap on the door twice, waiting for her to answer. After a minute or two, I lift my hand to knock again, but the door opens, sending a wave of her strawberry scent rolling onto the porch, nearly flattening me.

“Hi, I just need, like, two minutes to finish getting ready. I’m so sorry.” Olive rushes off toward what I assume is her bedroom. “Make yourself at home,” she shouts before closing the door after her.

I step inside, clicking the door closed behind me, and take in the space.

It’s nice here, an upgraded kitchen opens to where I’m standing in the living room.

A green velvet couch is placed in the center with a cozy stone fireplace across from it, and the coffee table is scattered with colorful books.

I approach, taking a seat and lifting a few of them to see what they are.

Scanning the backs tells me Olive has an affinity for romance novels.

I don’t recognize any of the authors immediately, not that I spend much time in that section of Black Kettle.

Names like Margaret Rose, Cassandra Moll, Lainey Lawson, and Mallory Meyers lay claim to the novels.

Their covers are works of art with vivid scenes; I could tattoo these, and they would turn out stunning.

“See anything you’re interested in?” Olive’s voice is curious. Does she believe I’ve read any of these?

“No. But you have quite the collection.” I stand, turning toward her, the couch positioned between us.

“You look gorgeous.” A slow breath leaks out as I take her in.

My mouth goes dry. Her hair is down in long cascading waves, and her lips are painted the perfect shade of pink. But the best part is her glowing smile.

“Thank you, blue looks good on you.” Her cheeks blush as she pays me the compliment.

I can’t help but reach for her hand. “Come here.” I tug her around the couch and wrap her in a hug, tucking my nose into her hair. Strawberries and cream float through me with every breath I take. It’s intoxicating.

“Are you, um, ready to get going?” She looks up at me, melting me with her smile and giving me one last hard squeeze.

“Yeah, I am.”

We head out, and I help her into the truck before rounding it to get in.

“Where are we going?” she asks, settling in and buckling her seat belt.

“Ah, if I tell you, then what would the surprise be?” I grin at her, then reach out to take her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be fun, promise.”

A short and relatively silent drive leads us to Baxter’s Pumpkin Palace, a Mage Hollow staple where you can do everything from getting lost in a corn maze to shopping for seasonal decor and picking your own pumpkins. It’s one of my favorite places and holds so many memories from my childhood.

“This is so cute. I can’t wait to see everything. Where should we start?” Olive asks, bouncing slightly with obvious excitement. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her look completely comfortable, and I like it.

“Corn maze?” I suggest, unbuckling before once again rounding the truck to open her door.

“You know, I really am not trying to be rude, but you could have asked for a map like a sane person.” Olive stares at me before spinning in circles searching for a way out.

“Scared, princess?” I smirk at her, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I am most certainly not scared, but if we get stuck out here all night, I will never let you live it down. And quit calling me princess,” she huffs and crosses her arms, jutting a hip out. I chuckle to myself, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the corn maze.

“You know we weren’t ever really lost, right?”

“No, I think you got lucky.” She stifles a laugh and pats my arm lightly. “I’m not saying that I’m great at directions, but I do think if I hadn’t made that left turn fifteen minutes ago, we would have just kept going deeper and deeper until we were stuck for life.”

She’s playing defiant, but we have been having the time of our lives.

Since the minute we left the house, it’s been quiet, stolen glances, nonstop laughter, and lighthearted jokes.

This might be the best first date I’ve ever been on, and it’s magnified by the fact that it’s the first time she hasn’t immediately snapped her walls into place.

I feel like we are getting somewhere, making progress.

“Want some warm apple cider?” I link our hands, noticing how soft and delicate hers are compared to mine.

“I would love that, thank you.” Olive hip checks me as we swing our arms back and forth walking toward the small food truck set up every year at the pumpkin patch.

We step up to order, and Olive practically drools over the cookies and pastries on the menu. “Should we get some dessert to share?” She gives me puppy dog eyes, but she doesn’t know I have that special treat from Mom hidden away under the seat in the truck.

“Nah, I’ve got something else in mind.” I wink at her, stepping closer to order two ciders to go.

“Sam, it’s a first date. What kind of woman do you take me for?” She eyes me wearily, like I might try something.

“Just come with me. You’ll see.” I grab our drinks, handing one to her, and lead us to my truck. Popping open the tailgate and patting it so she knows to sit, I open my door and pull out the plate of cookies. “Close your eyes, princess.”

“Okay, but seriously, you have to knock it off with that nickname. I promise I’m trying to be nice, but it’s driving me nuts.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and I plop the plate in her lap. “What’s this?” She peers down at the mound of cookies. “Di-did you bake for me?”

“Nope, must’ve been magic.” I slide onto the tailgate, sitting down next to her.

“What? You . . . You believe in magic?” Her question comes out breathy, almost like she’s shocked that I would say the word magic.