Page 42 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice (Wayward Hollow #1)
Nic
“Kieran!” I whisper-shout over the other murmuring patrons at Caleb’s, waving him over to our table.
His face lights up when he sees us, and he quickly waves at Caleb before making his way over to us.
“He’s basically a golden retriever with tattoos, isn’t he?” I whisper as I watch him weave through the tables.
“Oh, absolutely,” Henry says with a chuckle and takes a sip of his coffee.
“You’re so right,” Lauren adds, turning around to watch him too. “I can totally imagine him having a fluffy golden tail wagging behind him.”
He slides into the booth next to Lauren, and the two immediately fall into a heated discussion about our Friendsgiving dinner. Both have extremely strong opinions about what food we should have.
“No, no, no, I think we should fry the turkey,” Kieran demands immediately.
Lauren rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath before launching into a tirade about why baking it would be better.
Her strongest argument is that none of us have ever fried a turkey, and it’s much more likely to burn to a crisp than come out edible.
“How was your day?” I ask Henry softly, leaning my head against his shoulder.
He ’s such a touchy man. The moment I’m close, his arm sneaks around my shoulders or my waist, like he can’t help himself. He always pulls me in, and always presses a kiss to the side of my head or my forehead as a part of our greeting ritual now.
And as much as I love holding hands, this? This wins. It’s warm, snuggly, and has the tiniest hint of possessiveness, his way of silently telling the world, She’s taken, move along .
The forehead kisses have quickly become my favorite gesture of his. God, I’m spoiled. Here he is, showing the whole world I’m his, while I don’t even have a proper nickname for him yet.
Babe. Honey. Muffin.
They’re all just … not hitting right. But I’m determined to find one.
Because the way he calls me sweetheart? It gives me warm fuzzies.
I kind of live for it, and for his possessive streak. Especially now that a few nosy paparazzi pop up in town from time to time, clearly bored and hoping for another scandal.
Too bad for them, the most exciting thing they’ve caught is me walking Jensen, visiting Henry at work, and the two of us strolling around happier than a Hallmark couple, arm in arm, unbothered and utterly uneventful.
Come to think of it, it’s been a few days since the last one showed up. Maybe they finally had enough.
“Oh, you know”—he grins—“the usual. There was a sheep that got stuck in a fence that had some superficial wounds. A horse with a pebble in its hoof, a cat that needed its claws clipped. And a cow about to explode. The usual.”
“Hold on, hold on,” I say, turning in my seat to glance at him, gently petting his hand as I repeat slowly, “A cow about to explode ? I’m going to nee d details on that.”
“Some cows have digestion issues that lead to a buildup of gas,” he explains patiently.
I listen closely. God, I never thought I’d care about cow farts this much, but I’m hanging on to his every word as if there’s nothing else I’d rather know.
“And then what? They just pop like a balloon?”
“Before that can happen, we put in a small vent to let the air out,” he explains, and my face stretches into a grimace, nose scrunching as I try to imagine that.
“Back in college, a few guys tried to light the escaping gas on fire, which would work in theory, I guess, but our instructors quickly jumped in.”
“That sounds painful,” I point out and he nods.
“Not as painful as being so bloated you’re about to explode.” He smiles and steals the little biscuit from my saucer.
“In the afternoon, a woman came in with the cutest bunnies,” he whispers, his eyes drifting to Lauren and Kieran, who are now deep in a debate about the best mashed potato recipe.
“All long ears and fluff. One of them was brown, with light sprinkles all over its front. Totally reminded me of cinnamon.”
“Aww. Maybe they were brothers in another life,” I say dramatically, and he grins.
“Maybe.”
My eyes drift toward the front door when the bell chimes, and I freeze for a second, surprised to see Erik walk in wearing his uniform.
“What is he doing here?” I whisper, eyebrows knitting in confusion. Henry follows my gaze, and frowns.
“Huh. I thought he stopped drinking coffee after two.”
“Seriously? How do you know that?” I ask, surprised, shaking my head when he only gives me a pointed look, the corners of his mouth twitching. “God, in this town, everyone’s up in everyone’s business. I love it.”
“Hell yes we are.” Henry leans closer, whispering in my ear in a low voice, “I know that Mr. Peterson had a New Year’s resolu tion to stop drinking coffee entirely.
He lasted about two days.” His grin turns evil.
“The whole town also knows that our cute, kind flower shop owners are really into BDSM.”
My eyes widen. “How in the hell do you—?” I can’t even finish the sentence, staring at him, mouth agape. That kind of gossip also makes the rounds here?
Then again, Lauren and I did wonder if the town’s dark secret was an underground kink commune.
“That’s not important,” he says, but I quickly shake my head in disagreement, narrowing my eyes at him.
“If anyone in this town ever finds out about our sexual preferences …” I hiss and point my index finger at him. “I’m going to feed you to the fishes. I’ll tell everyone you demand to be called ‘Mommy’ or suckle your thumb when you come.”
“All right, all right,” he laughs, hands raised in surrender. “I’m not telling a soul. Calm down.”
“Hey, Nic, do you have a minute?” Erik suddenly appears at our table and I glance up at him, surprised.
“Sure, Erik, what’s up? Grab a chair, take a seat.” His eyes scan the rest of the table before he shrugs and does exactly that.
“I’m guessing y’all don’t have any secrets from each other?”
“Well, actually …” Lauren says and looks at me with a mysterious glint in her eye, and I just know she caught the tail end of our conversation.
So I throw a piece of my napkin at her. “No, we don’t,” I say louder than she did, turning my focus back to Erik. “Is everything okay?”
“I thought you should know. Someone posted bail for Jay and Marissa,” he explains, his fingers drumming against the table.
My blood runs cold. For a moment, I forget how to breathe, and I instantly turn to Lauren, shooting her a glare that says See? Second shoe dropped .
“ How?” is all I can ask, Henry’s arm around me tightening its hold.
“We were going to hold them until tomorrow,” Erik explains patiently.
“The plan was to transfer them back to LA, where the actual crimes occurred. Since their co-conspirators would be there, and … well, we don’t have the resources in Wayward Hollow to handle a case of that scale.
But before we could do that, someone paid their bail, and we had to let them go. ”
“You had to let them go?” I ask, arms crossing tightly over my chest, hugging myself. “Erik …”
“I’m sorry.” He lifts his hands apologetically. “I promise, Nic, there was nothing I could do. But the court date in Los Angeles is set for next week, and if they don’t show, they will have a shitload of problems.”
His lips lift in a sad smile.
“I’ve given them a very strong suggestion to leave town and not come back. But if they do, and they harass you again, please tell me immediately. I’ll be all too happy to throw them right back into a cell, and I’m pretty sure half the precinct would cheer.”
“So … I see they’ve been a pleasure in jail,” I blatantly fish for information, but he shakes his head.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“I really, really do,” I reply with wide puppy eyes, all but begging to know more. “This is the first time anyone besides me has seen their dark side. Let me have this joy. Hopefully, they embarrassed themselves.”
“I still can’t tell you how she demanded to have her holding cell decorated, claiming the feng shui was all wrong and that the ‘energy in there was tragic,’” Erik says as he gives me a pointed look.
“Honestly, I can kind of respect that,” Kieran points out, making the whole table burst into laughter.
“ Or how she might have staged a one-woman protest by dramatically lying on the floor until someone brought her herbal tea. She lasted an hour.”
I snort. “You’re kidding.”
“And, of course, I absolutely cannot tell you that she kept quoting legal dramas and saying ‘Objection!’ every time someone spoke. Including other inmates.”
He gets up and glances at us over his shoulder, lifting his hand for a wave. “Totally cannot tell you any of that.”
“Oh, yes.” I grin, still imagining the whole thing vividly. It’s softening the sting that came with knowing she’s currently walking free. “Such a shame you couldn’t tell me. Thank you, Erik.”
“Of course,” he says, turning and leaving.
“Shoe dropped,” I can’t help but point out to Lauren. I knew something would happen, knew the universe would extend another hand and pull her out of a shitshow she created. I just knew it.
Kieran and Henry glance at me, confusion written all over their faces, while I take a deep breath.
“Well … though I can’t imagine they did, let’s hope they learned their lesson,” Lauren says weakly, in an attempt to cheer me up.
“You know, I’ve always admired your optimism.”
God, I hope she’s right.