20. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Dawson
Chloe is my friend.
In the past twenty hours, I’ve concluded it’s a horribly lovely label. Lovely because my focus needs to be on Finn and work, and labeling her as a friend accomplishes that, but horrible because I can’t stop thinking about Chloe. She’s spunky yet easy going. She reminds me of a pumpkin spice cake roll. Boldness wrapped around a sweet center. There’s this magnetism about her that makes me feel seen and heard. Most of the things I’ve told her I’ve never admitted to anyone else.
I may not be too far off base in saying she’s a witch. She’s cast some sort of spill-my-guts spell or slipped me a secrets-emitting truth serum. I’m breathing in whatever she bewitched, and I can’t stop thinking about her and telling her all my private thoughts and feelings. Whatever it is, I need to find the antidote, and get the enchantress Chloe Crenshaw out of my mind .
She’s made no indication whatsoever that she likes me as more than anything but a co–festival planner, and I for sure as heck don’t have space in my life for women right now.
But I’m working with her for the next month.
That’s plenty of time for my rebellious heart to take her from friend status to something more . I have to figure out a way to stop it from happening.
We’re checking out Cornbelly’s tonight. From what little research I’ve done, this place is the stuff dreams are made of for anyone who enjoys autumn. From the food to the activities, it sounds like they took every lovely thing about fall and shoved it into one big two-month festival.
Finn hasn’t stopped talking about seeing Chloe and going to Cornbelly’s since I told him about it. We’re picking up Chloe in an hour.
No matter what, I will not appreciate her beauty, not think about how awesome she is, and definitely not say anything deeper than surface-level conversation. From here on out, every word, touch, and action will be extremely professional. The only problem is whenever I’m around Chloe, I’m at ease and things spill out. Stopping it is like trying to stop a wave from coming ashore—impossible.
But I will find a way.
I have to, regardless of how I feel about it. My plan so far consists of keeping a rubber band around my wrist. Every time Chloe says or does something that makes me want to respond in a witty way or pull her into my arms again, I’ll snap my wrist to stop myself.
I foresee a very red, very sore wrist by the time I get home tonight.
“What are you looking forward to the most?” Chloe asks Finn as we drive to Cornbelly’s.
“The apple shooter and corn maze!”
“Same for me,” I say.
“The giant slide looks fun,” Chloe says. “We should go down together.”
Me and Chloe? Or Chloe and Finn? All three of us?
Nope. No close proximity. Sighing, I vow to focus on Finn tonight. Making sure he has fun is the only thing that matters. Stretching the rubber band on my wrist until it’s about to break, I let it go. My skin stings like a thousand needles pricking me at the same time. Ouch!
With a sore wrist, I focus on driving until we’re pulling into the parking lot at Thanksgiving Point. “All right, kids, we’re here. Remember, no taking off. We must stay together at all times so no one gets lost.”
“How’d you know I was a flight risk?” Chloe asks with a wink.
I pull on the rubber band again and keep my response neutral. “Intuition.”
“I’ll make sure Chloe stays right by me the entire time, Dad.”
“Thanks for being responsible, Finn. Let’s head over and find the apple shooter.”
The moment we step out of the car, a cacophony of aromas hit me all at once. Hay, manure, meat, cinnamon, and apples. I’d like more of the food smells and less of the animal.
We get our tickets and a map and head inside the gates. Pumpkins, hay bales, leaves, farm-style booths, scarecrows, and every other fall décor item possible are placed expertly around the festival. It’s like the set of a movie with how perfect and dare I admit charming it all looks. Emma and Lucy would love this place. Have they been before? I need to see if we can do a family outing so Finn can play with his cousins here.
We find our way toward the area they have set up with hundreds of buckets of apples. Judging by the overly sweet-mixed-with-sour smell reaching us before it’s our turn, the apples are on the verge of rotting.
While we wait in line, we watch as a family puts on clear safety glasses and noise canceling headphones. They step into a bay, shove an apple into the barrel, then pull the trigger.
The shooter makes a loud noise as it discharges the apple toward a hanging target. Apple sprays everywhere when it hits a bullseye.
Okay, that’s really cool.
“Did you see that?!” Finn asks, his jaw hanging open.
I grin. “I did. I can’t wait for our turn.”
“Want to place a bet?” Chloe asks.
Can this woman stop looking so cute with her skinny jeans, boots, and plaid shirt? Honestly, I never knew I had a thing for cowgirls, but seeing Chloe like this? I absolutely do. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Do you ever do anything without a wager?” My voice is high as I fight through the pain on my wrist.
“Not really. No.”
Chloe’s incurably competitive. I can’t tell if I like this about her because it means life will never get boring or if eventually I’ll want to experience something without the added pressure of winning. For the sake of my new feelings, I’m going to say it’s an annoyance.
I hold up a finger. “I’m not agreeing, but what do you have in mind?”
“We lost last time,” Finn says.
I never told Finn I did that on purpose. “Chloe was faster at picking apples.” I shrug like what are you gonna do ?
“If I hit the most targets, Finn has to kiss a goat and you have to ride the Pumpkin Basher.”
I groan. Of course she picks the spinning ride as my punishment. “And if we hit more targets than you?”
“Finn gets to tell the face painter what to put on my face and I have to wear it the rest of the night.”
“Why can’t I have the face paint option too?” I ask.
There’s a teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s not high enough stakes.”
If circumstances allowed me to ask her on a date, I’d wager a night out. But I can’t, so I snap the rubber band again . “No.” I shake my head. “You don’t like spinning rides either. We both have the same penalty or the bet’s off.”
Finn stands between us, his head shifting back and forth as he watches Chloe and me stare each other down. I’m not caving. Based on what I know of Chloe’s personality, neither is she. The problem is, the longer I gaze into her eyes, the more my resolve slips.
“Your call, 007.”
She eyes the apple blasters. The second her eyes narrow and she bobs her head once, I know what she’s going to say. “The pumpkin basher it is.”
I swallow against the nausea brewing in my stomach. Why couldn’t she go for the face painting for both of us? I want to say no, we’re here for fun, but I can’t. Because deep down, no matter what lie I tell myself, I do like this about Chloe. I won’t ever tell her that, though. She’d turn everything into a contest.
The only way to not make myself sick for the rest of the night is to win. Squatting, I look Finn right in the eyes. “Do we have this?”
“ I’ll be fine. Worry about yourself.”
Chloe and I bust up laughing.
I ruffle Finn’s hair. “Thanks, dude.”