Page 37

Women love pumpkins and fall shit, and I guess, I sort of love it too.

Some of my better memories growing up are of Austen and I going to the festival.

Mom and Dad would let us pick our pumpkins and it was a tradition I had hoped I’d carry on one day with my own kids, but I’m pretty sure that’s moot at this point.

I guess I could take the girls, and I’m sure Britt would be okay with that, but I also feel like that should be something they do with their mom and dad because it’s special.

“Have you ever been to the Ashbourne Fall Fest before?” I ask as Kearstin buckles into my passenger seat .

She’s cute, with short auburn hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose, with big green eyes framed by thick lashes. I tower over her, at 6’1”, even though she’s about 5’7”. She’s all curves, too. The seatbelt squishes her breasts together, and I have to admit it’s not a bad sight.

“I have not,” she says sweetly, her smile bright and excited.

“Well, you’re in for a fucking treat,” I say with a grin. “Feel free to change the station to whatever you like.”

She smiles, tucking some hair behind her ear. “What kind of music do you like?” she asks as I take off for the festival lot.

“A little bit of everything. I’m not really picky.”

“Do you have a favorite band?” She browses through the stations.

“Not really. If something sounds good, I like it. The only thing I don’t really like is country music, but I’ve been known to like some songs.”

“Well, that makes two of us. I’m not a country fan, either.

” She settles on a station playing that Espresso song by Sabrina Carpenter.

I love the song, but I’ve heard it a million times since coming home to Ashbourne, and I accidentally ordered an espresso the other day at the coffee shop because it was playing and I didn’t realize it until I got to the car .

“So,” I say awkwardly, focusing on the road. My knee aches, but the ibuprofen is helping a bit today. Though, to be fair, I’ve spent several hours in bed watching dumb rom-coms. I haven’t moved since painting last night, except to get ready for my date .

Thankfully, weekends are busy for my parents. Mom likes to go antiquing and to hit up Estate sales on Saturdays, and Sundays are golf days with my dad and brother. Another reason why I hate coming home.

I can play hockey but I suck at golf, and my dad loves to be an asshole and remind me how bad I suck.

And how good Austen is.

She giggles. “Your mom tells me you’re into sports.”

Into sports? Sports are my fucking life. It’s not that I expect people to know who I am, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t weird when they don’t. I’m recognized often and that’s become my normal.

“Yeah, I play for the Reading Rioters. Defensemen.” I clear my throat. “What do you do?”

My blood heats and I feel on the spot, hoping to find a parking space soon to get out of this stifling car.

“I teach kindergarten,” she says with excitement.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I say awkwardly.

“It has its moments.”

I find a parking spot, shutting off the car, but neither of us make a move. The silence is tense .

“Look, I, uh…” I turn to look at her big eyes and perfect smile. She seems sweet. Too sweet, almost.

But I know that I need to be upfront. If this date is going to happen, I need to be honest with her about who I am and what I’m about. If my mother told her I’m “into sports” I can only imagine she left out the big pieces.

“Before we head to the festival, there are some things you need to know about me. I’ll tell you, and you can decide how it goes. Sound good?”

She unbuckles her seatbelt, a smirk playing at her face. “You’re not a serial killer are you?”

I shake my head.

“Worse,” I say with a grin. “I’m bisexual, and I just got out of a sort-of-serious relationship and my mother is a giant pain in my ass, so—”

Kearstin laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask defensively.

“Same,” she says, her breasts bouncing from her laughter.

“What?”

She shifts in her seat, imploring me with those big green eyes.

“Same. I’m bi, too. Just got out of a two-year relationship with a woman who I thought wanted more, but—”

I know the surprise on my face is evident. I want to ask if my mother has any idea about this or if it's some wild coincidence. Because if she did, that would mean…

No, there’s no possible way my tightly-wound mother would actually make that much of an effort.

“Ouch,” I say, a genuine smile gracing my lips.

Kearstin’s smile is warm. “I promise I’m not a serial killer, either.”

It’s my turn to laugh as I get out of the car, coming to open her door.

“That’s exactly the thing a serial killer would say,” I say as I offer her my hand.

She takes it and I note her tiny hand is soft against my palm.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” I say as I shut the door. “You ready for the best post-relationship date ever?” I ask.

Kearstin beams with excitement as she takes my arm. “Absolutely.”

Kearstin is fun. She’s bubbly and funny and I find myself comfortable as she tells me stories about her students while we wait in line for ice cream.

She gets the pumpkin spice cone and I opt for a cherry vanilla cone with lots of sprinkles.

When we’re both done, she excuses herself to the ladies room.

I sit on a bench near the face-painting station, taking a moment to watch the crowd while I wait .

And that’s when I see him.

Standing over at the Cat Rack game with a woman hanging around his arm, a beer in one hand, leaning against the edge of the game booth. The light from the games cast an almost angelic glow on him.

And then he looks in my direction, his gaze finding mine like a guided missile.

I should leave him alone with his date. Or girlfriend, or whatever she is, because I don’t know, and I have no right to know, but something inside of me twists with jealousy and aggravation.

Maybe it’s payback because he’s been tormenting me for years, whether he knows it or not, just as he’s been tormenting me this week during our sessions.

I’m sure he’s aware of how he affects me, but there’s only one way to find out…

I look back and forth before heading over to him, expecting him to move, but he doesn’t. He holds my gaze for a moment before looking away and brushing me off.

So you want to play, Mackenzie? Game on.

“Jordan!” I call out his name with overenthusiasm, making his date turn in my direction. His gaze hardens as he snaps back to my attention.

“How good to see you,” I say with a grin as I pull him into a hug. His beer sloshes and he tenses.

His free hand comes up to hug me and his vicious voice whispers in my ear, “I’m going to fucking kill you. ”

I grin, my cock twitching from the heat of his breath, the venom in his voice. I know he feels me, and I don’t try to hide what my body does around him. I can’t, even if I tried.

I pull away, absentmindedly shifting my stance to quell the sudden hardness in my pants.

“Hi! I’m Alex. Alex Brewer. You may have heard of me,” I say cheerily.

She blinks. “Oh! Yeah, you’re the guy who plays on the hockey team, right? You’re like a legend around here.”

I grin, her words making me prouder than I should feel.

Mack growls.

“In the fucking flesh, babe. And you must be…”

I reach for his date’s hand and she blushes, her gaze falling on me with excitement.

“Maggie.”

“Ah, Maggie. Cute name,” I say as I kiss the back of her hand politely. “I’ve heard so much about you. Mack just raves about you.” I smile.

Jordan looks like he’s two seconds away from punching me. I’ve hit a nerve.

Interesting.

I can’t help myself when it comes to pushing his buttons, despite knowing I’ll pay for it later .

“Really?” she asks, sneaking a glance at Jordan. “I didn’t know you knew one another. Jordan hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Oh, Mack and I go way back, don’t we?” I nudge him with my elbow and more beer sloshes out of his cup.

His fiery gaze holds mine and I wink.

Serves him right for making me do that extra set of leg raises. Asshole.

My body freezes when I hear my name called, just as Mack opens his mouth.

“Alex! There you are!” Kearstin says as she walks over. “For a minute, I thought you bailed on me.”

Jordan cocks his head, an arrogant expression crossing his face.

“Alex would never bail on anyone. He’s too much of a golden retriever for that.”

I clear my throat, smiling as I say, “Of course not.”

“Kearstin,” she says, extending her hand.

She and Maggie exchange pleasantries, and then Maggie introduces Jordan, linking her arms around his giant one, again .

The comfortability they have together makes me think this isn’t a first date, and probably not the second or third. They’ve been doing this a while.

“Where are you guys headed off to?” Maggie asks while Jordan glares at me.

“I think we were headed for the pumpkin patch, right, Alex?” Kearstin asks, turning to me .

“Mhmm. Can’t leave the fall fest without a big, plump pumpkin. Right, Jordan?”

Before he can answer, Maggie squeals. “Oh my God, that’s where we were headed! We should go together!”

“Sounds wonderful. I’m in,” I say before anyone else can speak.

When Jordan shoves past me, nearly knocking me over to lead the way, I can’t help but grin.

This date isn’t so bad after all.