Page 319 of The Havenport Collection

Oliver

I t was so strange having a girlfriend. It had been years, and I mean years, since I had a woman in my life. And at my age, the word girlfriend just seemed silly. Especially when I thought about Maeve. Everything about her was significant, meaningful.

The rational part of my brain knew she had just gotten out of a long-term relationship. And logically, she probably wasn’t ready for anything serious.

But I was head over heels for her already.

It had only been two weeks since our kayak date, but we had already fallen into a pattern.

Taking walks, going kayaking, and snuggling up and watching movies together.

Shockingly, Maeve loved eighties and nineties action flicks, so we had been bonding over our love of Stallone and Schwarzenegger and throwing cheesy movie quotes back and forth.

I had also gotten to know her sisters—Alice, the quiet, bookish one, and Sylvie, the free-spirited musician.

Maeve had admitted to not having the strongest relationships with them in the past and was trying to make up for it now, doing fun girlie things with them while I was working.

The other night she texted me a photo of the three of them lined up on Alice’s couch wearing these jelly looking facemasks and holding margarita glasses.

“Am I ready for this?” Maeve asked, knotting a thin scarf around her neck.

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her forehead. “It’s just GourdFest. Nothing to be afraid of. We will walk around, laugh at some strangely shaped vegetables, eat some food, and come home. Flint is covering for me tonight so I could spend the evening with my girl.”

She looked up at me, giving me a skeptical squint. “Your girl?”

“Yup. I am going full caveman, baby.” I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder, giving her ass a playful smack. “You are mine, woman.”

I ran around the living room as she laughed and squealed. “Fine, fine. I surrender. I’m your girl. But that means you’re my guy.”

I put her down and couldn’t repress the shit-eating grin on my face. “Your man, sweetheart. I’m your man.”

She placed one small hand on my chest and I held my breath. There was a but coming and I knew it. Her eyes were teary and when she looked up at me, I could see her vulnerability. “I like you a lot. But I still need to take things slowly.”

I leaned down and kissed her gently. “I like you a lot too. And I’ll go as slow or as fast as you want, Watson. Just know I’m here for the long haul.”

She pulled me down, kissing me even harder. I knew this was a big step for her, trusting someone after what happened with her ex. I didn’t want to pressure her. But my feelings were big and growing bigger by the day.

“I like this version of you,” I whispered in her ear. “Sweet and vulnerable. I like it.”

She gave me a dramatic eye roll. “Get your shoes. If we’re doing the silly town festival thing, then we’re doing it right.”

I was still beaming, giddy with the knowledge that she was mine. Everything else we’d figure out.

I was no stranger to small New England towns. I had grown up in Bristol, home of the oldest Fourth of July celebration in the country.

But I was still adjusting to life in Havenport.

This place loved any excuse for a festival, parade, fireworks, road race, or celebration.

The most mundane things were turned into events—streets were shut down, businesses were closed, and life ground to a halt.

As a member of the police department, it was my job to staff most of these events, and the whiteboard at the station was filled with people moving shifts around to accommodate the constant need for police support.

And this was the GourdFest. One of the stranger events on the town calendar, for sure, but still oozing that special brand of Havenport charm.

Maeve squeezed my arm as we waited for her sisters to join us. “I haven’t been to one of these since I was a kid! I can’t believe I’ve been missing this. They have a category for ‘most likely to succeed.’ What makes a gourd likely to succeed? It’s insanity, and I am here for it.”

I loved her enthusiasm; I also loved the beers her sister Sylvie was carrying as she walked toward us.

“Wyatt says hi,” she said, handing one to each of us. “He finishes his shift at the Binnacle tent at nine, so will find us then.”

Alice walked up, giving us a nod and sipping her beer.

“I missed this,” Maeve said, gesturing around.

“We missed having you here,” Alice replied. “I have to make an appearance at the kids’ contest. Several of my students have entered, and there is some fierce competition.”

I sipped my beer, a bit confused. “What’s the deal with gourds?”

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and Maeve laughed. Sylvie regarded me suspiciously. “Gourds are inherently hilarious. You can’t really eat them, and there are millions of varieties. And also, have you seen them?”

“It’s also kind of a Havenport thing,” Alice explained in her patient teacher voice.

“Lots of towns have harvest festivals. Lots of towns have fairs and agricultural competitions. Who grows the biggest pumpkin or whose cow wins the blue ribbon—that type of thing. But in Havenport, we’re all about being authentic and original and defying expectations.

So we celebrate gourds. Because why the hell not? ”

“And,” Sylvie added, “Havenport has to be extra about it—hence the categories, the judging panel, and the strict entry criteria.”

“Yeah, no one half asses GourdFest; you go all in or nothing,” Alice agreed.

I continued to drink my beer as I looked around the town center. A band was playing live music, and people were eating and dancing and taking selfies with some of the strangest-looking produce I’d ever seen.

Maeve looked happier and more relaxed than I had ever seen her.

Being with her sisters brought out the best in her, and her excitement for her hometown was palpable.

I loved being the one with her tonight, sneaking kisses between bites of soft pretzels and sips of hoppy beer, swaying to the music and laughing at some of the decorations.

For the first time since I moved here, I felt at home. And I knew it was all Maeve.

After a bit, Sylvie and Alice wandered off to check out the gourd competition, and Maeve pulled me close.

“You look gorgeous tonight,” I growled into her ear. “I wish I could take you home right now.”

Her eyes flashed and my blood heated. My desire for this woman was endless.

“What if we sneak away for a few minutes?” she said, raising one eyebrow. “Maybe,”—she pulled me down and I could feel her hot breath on my ear—“we can check something off my list.”

I was hard in an instant and I stood up, scanning the crowd for some place we could sneak off to. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t think straight. I knew what she wanted to do, and there was no way in hell I would ever say no.