Page 35 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice (Wayward Hollow #1)

Nic

“God, I feel like a teenager on a date,” I joke, staring lovingly up at Henry.

We’re walking over to the autumn fair hand in hand, and I have to say—it is way more adorable than I thought it would be. Lauren and I might have lent a hand with the decorations, but what makes the atmosphere are the vendors showing off their crafts and goods, and the people.

I’m eating a still-warm churro with cinnamon, while Henry is sticking to a caramel apple. Jensen curiously trots beside us, eyes darting everywhere, overwhelmed about what to focus on first.

“Come to think of it,” he says with a lovestruck grin playing on his lips, “this is our first real date, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God, you’re right.” I come to a halt. “I didn’t even think about that!”

I’m more than content with our staying-in-and-cuddling dates. Cinnamon gets angry with me if I’m away too often, and Pumpkin is gnaws on furniture—and I love spending time with Henry no matter what we’re doing. I never needed big dates or gestures—being with him is all I need.

“Want me to shoot you a plush toy?” he grins, nodding to our left.

I turn to follow his gaze, and my eyes widen when I spot the stand.

It’s tucked between a booth selling homemade pumpkin pies a nd one with spiced apple cider, all adorned in warm autumn colors.

Wooden signs hang above it with hand-painted prices, and strings of little felt leaves and fairy lights frame the edges of the canopy.

Plush pumpkins, owls, and foxes with goofy faces dangle from clothespins, waiting for someone to take them home. And that someone could be me, apparently.

Lauren and I haven’t been back here since we set up decorations, so we completely missed the vendors moving in and claiming their spots. Seeing it all finished is like walking into a little pocket of autumn, much more magical than I thought this would turn out.

“Are you trying to woo me with your shooting skills?” I try to sound nonchalant as I glance back at him, cheeks flushed with heat. I might not be one for clichés, but him winning me a toy would honestly make my day.

“If it works, I’ll clear the whole booth.” He grins, throwing the core of his apple in the bin as we make our way to the stand. “It might take a while, though. I don’t have the best aim.”

“Then it’s a good thing my affection can be bought for the low, low price of one low-quality stuffed animal.” I pat his back playfully, then step aside to let him do his thing, taking Jensen’s leash out of his hand.

I can’t say I’m overly fond of guns. Do I still have one because I’m a woman who lives alone in the middle of nowhere? Obviously. But I’ve never considered them hot.

Yet there’s something about the way he handles the little plastic shotgun—the way he braces it against his shoulder, that little crease between his eyebrows as he focuses, the way he squints his eyes in concentration as he aims it … it’s sexy as hell.

Fuck, I’m such a goner for this man. It’s not even funny anymore.

The re’s something about him that settles me.

As if my heart finally knows how to beat in the right rhythm when he’s around.

His hugs are home, more cozy than fleece blankets and soft music on a rainy autumn afternoon.

And every time he looks at me as if I’m something special, my stomach flips so fast it’s giving Olympic gymnasts a run for their medals.

His kisses? As addictive as that first swirl of pumpkin spice syrup in my coffee: comforting, exciting, a little bit magic.

I used to think I knew what love was. But wow, I was way off.

Love isn’t sticking it out for the sake of it. It’s looking into someone’s eyes and thinking— yeah, that’s home.

The exact way he makes me feel.

His focused face breaks into a wide smile when he hits the target.

“Oh my God, well done you.”

I bite my lip, shooting him a grin as he picks out a teddy bear for me. The poor thing is worn out as if it has already survived a war. But somehow, that makes him even more lovable.

He hands it to me with a proud little grin and holds out his hand, expecting me to take it so we can keep walking. Instead, I bypass it entirely and slip my arm around his waist, cuddling the battle-worn bear against my side as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Thank you,” I whisper and stretch my neck, lips pursed for a kiss. He happily obliges, his lips sending a jolt of buzzing electricity through my whole body. The smile he shoots me afterward makes my face burn.

God, I think I love this man.

The air cackles between us as our eyes lock, his hold around my waist tightening, when suddenly Lauren appears from behind a pumpkin tower.

“ Nic, Nic, Nic!” she whisper-shouts with worry in her eyes and quickly pushes the three of us past a wall of hay bales behind a craft stand.

“Lauren, Lauren, Lauren!” I whisper-shout back, confused, but she shakes her head quickly, her expression almost panicked.

“They’re here,” she says ominously, glancing over her shoulder, scared we’re being followed, and I lift my eyebrow at her. Jensen is relaxed though, so I doubt Jay is around.

“Who are ‘they?’” Henry asks, and I shrug, equally confused.

“What are you talking about, Lauren? We knew Jay and Marissa would be here,” I point out, but she shushes me, carefully peeking around the hay.

“I’m not talking about Jay and Marissa. I’m talking about your parents.”

The words hit me harder than a punch to the sternum. My heart falters, and I turn to stare at Lauren. Suddenly, the air is molasses, and my lungs are tight, as if the air is too heavy to breathe.

My mouth opens, but my brain can’t form a single word. Something sharp presses into my chest, a weight I thought I’d left behind creeping back in. I blink, trying to steady myself, but all I manage is a quiet, shaken stare.

“What?” Henry asks, and I nod. That’s exactly what I’d love to know, too. What the actual fuck?

“Marissa must have told them.” Lauren starts pacing, nibbling at her thumbnail.

“Great,” I say and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Then again, I can’t even be surprised,” I mumble, making the two of them turn to me, eyes wide with surprise.

“Jay knew how hard I fought for their approval,” I tell them with a nonchalant shrug, trying to hide how badly he hit a spot that still hurts much more than I want to admit.

“He witnessed it firsthand, listened to all my self-doubts. If they want to hit me where it hurts, why wouldn’t they involve my parents?

” I lay my head back, gazing at the clear autumn sky for a moment. “God, I hate them.”

Henry gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Their presence doesn’t change anything about our plan,” Lauren says decidedly and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Remember, Nic. They’re air. They’re nothing to you. And you are so much more than your birth givers’ approval.”

“Thanks, Lauren,” I say with a small smile. “This came from left field, but thank you for warning me. I’m 95 percent sure the rest will happen exactly as we think. This is only a small, unwelcome surprise.”

“Well then, until their little plan turns into action”—her eyes dart from Henry to me. When they land on the teddy bear in my hand and his arm around my hip, her expression softens—“have a fun date.”

“We will,” I assure her, and the smile on my face finally turns genuine.

Henry’s arm is a protective reminder around my shoulders as we continue to walk through the autumn fair. With each step, I understand better and better why Wayward Hollow prides themselves on it.

It’s fun. There’s barely anyone without a smile on their face. The vendors are chatting with customers, handing out warm drinks and sweet treats.

Visitors wander from stand to stand, holding cider or cotton candy, while kids run around with painted faces and sticky fingers.

The air smells of cinnamon, warm apples and roasted nuts, and there’s soft music playing from a speaker somewhere.

Everything is warm and alive, like the whole town showed up just to be happy for a while, resembling a small-town Disneyland.

“We should carve a pumpkin,” Henry suggests with a chuckle as we walk past the tables where children are throwing pumpki n seeds at each other. He holds Jensen’s leash tighter as he perks up at the scent of potential food.

“Later,” I say with a grin, nodding toward the sticky residue on the benches and where a girl is massaging pumpkin gunk into a boy’s hair. “I don’t think I can be trusted with a knife right now.”

“Fair point,” he admits and pulls me past it, when I suddenly see a familiar face.

“Ralph?”

“Nic! It’s great to see you.” The familiar middle-aged man’s face turns into the same bright smile he always had on his face when we ran into each other.

His temples have grayed a bit since I last saw him, and he’s gotten tanner, but he’s still the annoying-because-of-his-job-but-actually-a-nice-guy I’ve gotten to know over the years.

“Were you on vacation?” I ask him, and he breaks into a grin.

“I mean, yeah. Now that I can’t photograph you anymore, the job is only half as fun. Might as well reap some rewards from my hard work.” I shake my head at his blatant flattery.

“Henry, this is Ralph, one of the paparazzi I’ve become acquainted with over the years. Ralph, this is Henry, my boyfriend.”

God, saying it aloud makes me giddy. Some days I still fear that I will wake up and it turns out he was too perfect after all and only a product of my imagination.

Henry extends his hand with a pleasant smile to greet Ralph, and when they shake hands, they nod at each other with some kind of quiet understanding.

“It’s good to meet you,” Henry says, sounding a little stiff.

No wonder. He might be used to being around me, but paparazzi?

That can be scary stuff. Ralph is one of the good ones, though, the kind who waits at a respectful distance and wouldn’t kneel to try to get a shot of my panties.

He’d say hi instead of barkin g orders to pose at me.