Page 12 of Promises & Pumpkins (Haunted in Hazy Cove #1)

Miles

“Ithought we were going to get dinner.” Harper adjusted in my front seat when I turned down a dirt road, almost like she was preparing to escape.

This wasn’t a horror movie, and she didn’t need to roll out of the car and run like her life depended on it, if that was what she was worrying about. I chuckled.

“We are.” I turned again down another road that had fewer streetlights, watching her eyes narrow in the shadow.

She crossed her arms defensively. “Then why are we out in the middle of nowhere?” Harper scrunched her nose, staring out the window as the fields rushed by.

“Because this is where the cookout is.” I stifled a laugh when her eyes widened and put my hand out to stop the panic before it started. “It’s a department tradition. My partner throws a cookout every fall. There will be a bonfire, plenty of food, and beer.”

“You tricked me.” Harper glared at me.

“Not intentionally.” When I smirked, she bit back a small smile of her own. I sighed. “Look, I thought you might have fun, and I thought it would be nice having you here. If you’d like, I’ll take you somewhere else or back home.”

Her eyes never left my face while she moved her pursed lips side to side, debating silently with herself. Then her face relaxed and she groaned. “You said there’s beer?”

“Tons of it.” I couldn’t resist the grin that tugged at my lips when we pulled into the driveway at Stanley’s house.

I didn’t know why I wanted Harper there so badly.

Maybe I was tired of coming to this thing alone since Miranda died, or maybe I wanted to see if she’d loosen up and have some fun. “Let’s go.”

Harper looked around while we walked into the party, walking down the path around the side of the house.

She carefully took each step, but I was prepared to catch her in case she tripped.

As soon as we were far enough into the yard for the lights to announce our arrival, Stanley shouted.

“Hey, look who it is!” He already had a beer in his hand, and I was sure it wasn’t his first judging by the amusement on his face.

“And he didn’t come alone! I thought you were bluffing.

You brought a date!” Harper stiffened and looked at me from the side of her eye.

“She’s just a friend of mine. This is Harper.”

Stanley clapped me on the shoulder when he clearly didn’t believe me and then wiped his hand off on the front of his jeans. “Stanley. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, sticking his hand out to Harper. “I’m Miles’ partner. Going on, what, almost a decade now, right?”

I hummed in agreement. I looked at her and then back to him. “Don’t scare her off.”

Harper giggled when she shook his hand, and the sound tied my stomach in a knot only a beer would undo. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, glancing at me from the side of her eye. I knew exactly what she was looking for.

“It’s nicer to meet you!” Stanley said, already cracking himself up. “I don’t know how you can stand this guy.” He swatted me in the stomach with the back of his hand, and I glared.

“Me neither!” Her eyes glistened under the lights while she laughed with him. “He even tricked me into coming here. If anything, I don’t know how you stand him!” She sounded lighter when she laughed.

Stanley looked at me and then back to her with a mischievous glint. “I don’t!” He laughed loudly enough that it explained why he and his wife lived so far out in the country instead of closer to town. Then he grabbed my arm and took a swig of his beer. “Okay, I think I like her.”

Harper looked pleased by the approval and the waved finger guns Stanley gave her, and I scoffed, pretending that I wasn’t glad they got along.

“Then maybe I should get her away from you before you start to influence her.” She scrunched her nose when I put my arm around her shoulders, but she relaxed and didn’t pull away.

Relief flooded over me when I looked down at her to find her already looking at me. “What do you say we get a drink?”

When she nodded, I put my hand in the middle of her back and led her toward the barn that I knew was full of coolers and power tools. “Your partner is nice,” she said, stepping a little closer to me as a small breeze picked up.

“He can be. Your partner becomes kind of like family.” Mine did, especially when Miranda died. He was the reason I got through it.

Inside the barn, I weaved through others, nodding and throwing out an occasional hello.

By the time we got to the cooler, Harper looked like she was comfortable—like she fit in.

The hesitation she had worn on her face walking in had disappeared, and the muscles in her back and shoulders had relaxed completely. Was she having fun?

I reached into one of the coolers, pulling two beers out of the ice and passing one to her. “Want that beer I promised you?” I winked.

“Definitely, yes.” Harper snatched the beer from me, and it hissed when she cracked it open. She took a long gulp and then giggled. Was she having fun? “I didn’t know cops could have things like this.”

“Things like what?” I lifted a single brow, drinking my beer while she scrunched her nose and laughed.

Harper shrugged and looked around the bar. “You know… fun!” Then she grinned. She was having fun.

“Common misconception.” I nodded my head and winked. “Turns out, we’re capable of all the same fun things a ballerina-slash-cat-burglar is.”

Harper’s mouth dropped open with faux offense.

“You were technically the one who broke in!” she whisper-yelled in a failed effort to stop herself from laughing.

When she stopped to take a drink of her beer, I followed the movement of her lips until it closed around the edge of the can. Then I swallowed with her.

“Technicalities,” I said, but the word felt thick on my tongue. I looked outside the barn toward the fire pit that only had a few people around it. I was sure that we needed some fresh air before the tension between us filled the barn. “Are you hungry? If I recall, I promised you dinner.”

Harper looked around like she was confused about where we would be eating until she saw the pile of hotdogs and skewers sitting on a table by the fire. Then her face lit up like a little kid who’d never gotten the chance to burn a hot dog over a campfire before. She nodded. “I’m starving.”

“Let’s go.” She didn’t stall when I put my arm around her, and it was starting to feel a little too comfortable—almost familiar.

Not enough like friends. I didn’t want to remove it when we got to the table.

When I did, my side felt colder. I cleared my throat and, with it, the thought of having her tucked against me like this was more than a casual night out.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, taking one of the skewers from me and grabbing for a hotdog.

I watched her struggle to stick the hotdog vertically at the end of the skewer instead of using both forks on the skewer to balance it better, and I swallowed back the laugh. “Never done what?”

“Roasted hotdogs.” She was making that pretty obvious when she held the stick up like she was proud of it. It would get the job done as long as it didn’t fall apart when she pulled it off later.

“Really? Never?” I thought that had been a staple part of everyone’s childhood. “What about s’mores?”

Harper shook her head, and I could see the blush darkening her cheeks in the glow of the fire. “Not real ones. My parents weren’t really the outdoorsy type, so our idea of a bonfire was the fireplace in the living room and s’mores out of the microwave.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, huh?

” I wiggled my brows, and she rolled her lips together and bit down.

We reached out, holding the hotdogs barely in the fire until one of the logs popped.

It made Harper jump, and she took a large step back to inspect the still-intact hotdog on the end of her skewer.

With a relieved sigh, she stepped forward again. The fire danced on her face while she slowly rotated the stick, and the more she found a rhythm, the more serene the look on her face got. It was like we were here alone—like I was the only one seeing the subtle joy radiating from her.

“That’s probably good,” I said. “Unless you want it a bit burnt.”

“Maybe I like it that way.” Was she always this stubborn?

I assumed so when she pulled the hotdog back anyway, following me back to the table to put it on a bun.

Steam floated off it, more visible than usual in the cool fall air, but she didn’t blow on it before she took a big bite.

“Oh. Shit. Hot.” Harper gasped between words to try and cool down the bite, and I couldn’t hold back the laugh.

When she chased the bite and tried to cool her mouth down with another drink of beer, I mirrored her. “What do you think?” I asked her, even though it was just a hotdog.

“This is the best hotdog I’ve probably ever had.” She took another big bite, humming dramatically with her approval. I watched in amazement when she chewed quickly, swallowing it and quickly taking another bite. She followed it with another hum, half-rolling her eyes back, and I laughed.

“If you think that’s good, I can’t wait for you to have dessert.” Harper looked skeptical, narrowing her eyes with her mouth overly full. It wasn’t intended to be suggestive. I pointed at the bag of marshmallows and scattered stack of chocolate bars waiting to be melted. “S’mores. Remember?”

Her eyes lit up again, and I could feel her excitement running through every one of my veins. “You’re right,” she said before stuffing the last bite in her mouth and reaching for her skewer. I hurried to finish my hotdog and grabbed a couple marshmallows. “We can’t forget that!”