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Mason

Nervous sweat drips down the back of my neck as I drive to Gallagher’s Pumpkin Farm. His grandpa, Robert, hadn’t been the friendliest of folks when I was there before, and I don’t get the impression that the guy approves of Jax’s, erm, lifestyle.

Of our lifestyle.

Just what I wanted to do with my day: Beg a homophobe for his grandson’s clothing.

Maybe I’ll luck out, and Mrs. Gallagher will be around instead.

She seemed nice enough when I went to pick out a pumpkin, even giving away her grandson to a total stranger.

I’d have no issues asking her for a few outfits for Jax to wear while he’s at my house.

She’d probably let me inside and help me pick something out.

Robert would probably just chase me off the property with a shotgun.

Society may have come a long way towards tolerance in recent years, but something tells me the less I admit to Robert about my relationship with Jax, the better. I doubt I’ll score any points with the old man if I admit I know what his family’s secret recipe tastes like …

When I pull into the parking lot, Gallagher’s is hopping.

It’s getting closer to Halloween, so people are heading there in droves to find pumpkins for their porches or recipes.

I shudder to think what might’ve happened to Jax if anyone else had picked him out.

Would they have cut into him? Scooped out his innards?

I shake my head to clear it of such morbid thoughts. If Robert didn’t want to sell Jax to me, maybe he would’ve kept some unsuspecting family from purchasing and murdering his grandson.

Bracing myself for what could be the most awkward conversation I’ll ever have, I turn off the car and head for the front of the farmhouse, where the biggest pumpkins are on display.

My heart sinks as I see that my worst fears have come true: Grandpa is the only one working the counter. Jax’s grandma is nowhere to be seen.

Despite the fact that he’s supposed to be selling these pumpkins, Robert Gallagher is as salty as ever. He snarls at every single customer, and I wonder how the hell the farm stays in business. Doesn’t he know you have to smile every now and then to sell a product?

As I approach, I watch him strike out with no fewer than three potential customers. At this rate, poor Jax won’t have a farm to come back to!

I spot a spare Gallagher’s apron hanging near the sales counter, and inspiration strikes. Throwing the apron on and tying it around my waist, I walk up to Robert’s latest customer. The woman looks about ready to leave, so I turn on the charm.

“Welcome to Gallagher’s Pumpkin Farm! I’m Mason.

” I shake the woman’s hand and look at the pumpkin she’s inspecting.

“Nice choice. Round, solid, good texture.” I thump the skin of the gourd as though I know the first thing about testing a pumpkin.

Robert glares daggers at me, but I’m stubborn.

If he wants me to stop, he’s gonna have to physically kick me out of here.

Five minutes later, not only have I sold the woman on the pumpkin she initially had, I’ve sold her three more. I walk her over to the register and make a show of trying to open it. “Hey, Grandpa! The register’s stuck again.” I wink at the customer. “Silly thing jams a few times a day.”

“Oh, he’s your grandfather?” the woman asks as Robert shuffles over and opens the till.

“Sort of,” I say, taking her cash and counting out some change. “His grandson is my boyfriend, so I’m practically family.”

To my immense relief, Robert’s wife, Annie, shows up right at that moment. “Practically? Son, you need to stop selling yourself short.” She beams at the customer and helps me load the pumpkins in the woman’s car.

As the woman drives off, I take the opportunity to talk to Annie, the more reasonable of Jax’s grandparents in my experience. I explain that I know the whole Stingy Jack story— and that Jax needs some clothes if he’s going to stick around my house.

“Oh, my!” Annie shakes her head. “Unfortunate, that. Terribly sorry if it’s made you uncomfortable.” She gives me a weird, searching look, and I’d wager good money that her handing Jax over to me was no accident.

“No, not at all. But he really needs something more than my bathrobe to wear, and we’re not the same size. I have nothing to share that’ll fit him.”

Annie gives me a once-over and tuts. “You need fattening up, young man. If you lived on the farm here, you two would be the same size in no time. Some of my famous apple pie will do you good.”

The mention of apple pie reminds me of the night before, and a blush scorches my cheeks.

“Well, come on! Let’s go inside. Robert can handle the crowd.”

I follow Grandma Annie into the farmhouse, which is decked out much like I’d expect.

Decorative vines cover nearly every surface, and a cute display of pumpkin-painted China sits in a prominent cabinet just inside the door.

There’s not a speck of dust anywhere, and the now-familiar scent of pumpkin spice wars with the aroma of fresh-baked apple pie.

I find it odd that Grandma Annie spends so much time baking apple pies when pumpkins are their bread and butter.

Didn’t Jax mention something about the apple farmers being the Gallaghers’ rivals?

Annie offers me a seat at the large oak dining table as she bustles off upstairs to grab some clothes for Jax.

I tap my fingers on the tabletop nervously as I wait, hoping Robert doesn’t come storming in.

Annie seems to like me, but even upselling a difficult customer didn’t seem to win me any points with Jax’s grandpa.

Ten minutes later, Annie reappears lugging two huge suitcases stuffed to overflowing with clothes. I leap to my feet to take them from her, so she doesn’t hurt herself trying to carry them all the way to my car. “Mrs. Gallagher! Did you pack all of Jax’s clothes?”

Her round, plump cheeks pink with a blush, and she looks down at the bags in my hands. “He’s going to want options,” she mumbles, “and I threw in his toothbrush and a few other things.”

It’s more than I ever expected. I was hoping for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, something for Jax to wear on the ride back to the farm.

“This is … It’s so generous, Annie! Jax’ll feel right at home now.

” I smile to hide my sense of overwhelm.

Does Annie think Jax is moving in with me?

That certainly rushes things a bit. I mean, I like the guy, but we only just met. I don’t even know if Jax wants to stay.

Annie pats my hand. “Well, off you go now. Robert’s a handful, and he’s in no mood today. Jax’s birthday is just … Well, it’s coming soon.” Her mood grows somber, and tears well in her eyes.

That’s right; Jax mentioned something about this curse being connected to his birthday. I’d forgotten that part of the story. I wish I knew how to help, but I’m no witch or wizard. What can I do to break a curse?