Chapter 18
MILES
Sonora Farm is where I formed one of my earliest memories: my mom lifting me up to sit on a pumpkin bigger than I was.
The place is nearly unrecognizable now—nothing like the quaint local pumpkin patch I remember going to as a kid.
Over the years, it’s ballooned into something more like a fairground.
Attendants wave glowing orange batons to direct traffic in and out of a field that’s been converted into a parking lot.
The ground is a mix of mud and hay, and it takes me a good five minutes to trudge through the mess to get from my truck to the festival itself.
I’m glad my costume involved work boots.
Not knowing where to look for Caroline, I pull out my phone. My background photo—Lumpy, aka Lumpkin, thanks to his new pumpkin costume—has me smirking as I send her a text.
Me
I’m here. This place is wild. Where are you?
She doesn’t text back right away, so I pocket my phone and wander between the big marquee tents, one of which covers a roped-off, snaking lineup for the small train ride.
A live band plays a cover of Monster Mash for a burbling crowd of kids, their parents seated on bales of hay around a dance floor of sorts.
People stream around me in all directions, most wearing costumes, some carrying pumpkins. Twin girls walk past hand in hand, dressed up like the ones from The Shining and playing the part a little too well. They’re creepy as fuck. Just to be safe, I give them a wide berth.
Caroline wouldn’t reveal what her Halloween costume was, saying she wanted it to be a surprise, so I have no idea what I should be searching for as I scan the crowd.
I’d decided to dress up as a lumberjack, though I basically look like my brother on your average Tuesday.
He’d reluctantly let me raid his closet, which was probably ninety percent plaid flannel.
He’d even dug out a pair of suspenders for me.
Olena’s delight had been borderline unhinged, especially when she’d had a light-bulb moment and practically sprinted to get a squeaky toy of Murphy’s—one in the shape of an axe—to hang from my belt loop.
I absentmindedly give it a squeeze and smile to myself when it squeaks.
My phone pings in my pocket as I make my way past the entrance to the corn maze.
Caroline
Turn around, handsome…
I stop in my tracks and straighten, craning my neck before I spin around fully, my heartbeat pounding in my chest just knowing she can see me. I almost miss my back pocket with my phone when I spot her, and my hard exhale forms a cloud in front of me in the cold night air.
Little Red Riding Hood.
Caroline’s blonde curls peek out from under a bright red, warm-looking cloak that flows almost to her ankles, the hooded cape covering an old-fashioned, lacy white dress under a maroon corset top and…
fuck, I don’t know what else because she’s walking toward me and melting my brain more and more with every step.
She shifts a small wicker basket from one hand to the other, grinning as she slips her phone into some hidden pocket in the billowy fabric.
I don’t even consciously reach for her, but I find my hands on her waist somehow, sliding under the warmth of her cloak as she lifts to press a gentle kiss to my cheek.
Damn, she smells so good. Like cookies, but classy somehow?
All I know is I’m already hungry for more.
“Hi,” she whispers, wiping my cheek with her thumb.
“Fuck,” is all I can say in response, not giving two shits if I have red lipstick on my face. “I mean, hi.”
She laughs, dropping back onto the heels of her brown ankle boots. “You look great.” She steps back slightly to give me a lingering once-over, tugging at my plaid flannel jacket. “People are gonna think we planned this.”
“Huh?”
She gestures between us. “Little Red Riding Hood and the Woodcutter?”
“Oh! Yeah. Gotcha…” I blow out a long breath, and she grins. “You’re enjoying making me malfunction again, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I haven’t even started to make you malfunction yet.” She lifts a coy brow.
“What do you mean?”
I’m in. Whatever she wants to do, the answer is yes.
She leans in close. “You should see what’s underneath this.”
Oh, fuck me sideways.
My dick presses against the fly of my jeans, already convinced it’s go time.
Taking my hand, she pulls away, leading me through the crowd.
Reminding myself this is a family place, I will myself to get it together. I’m definitely not scanning the area for spots I could take Caroline to be alone. Definitely not considering how the loud music and the crowd noise would drown out any sounds.
Nope, not this guy. Family. Place.
“Caroline!” A woman with turquoise hair in a bright orange dinosaur onesie and Converse high-tops jogs over to us from one of the game booths. “Hey!”
“Ada!” Caroline sweeps her into a hug. When they draw back, Caroline touches my arm. “Ada, this is my boyfriend, Miles.”
Her words crackle in my stomach like I’ve just swallowed a handful of popping candy.
I don’t know why I’m surprised—this fake dating thing is the whole reason we’re here tonight—but still, as I go through the motions of shaking Ada’s hand, I’m distracted by how right it felt to hear Caroline call me that.
“So, how do you two know each other?” I ask, forcing myself to stay present.
“Ada’s an artist,” Caroline explains. “I’d been following her online for ages and then we bumped into each other last year at the gallery.”
“Found Family also funds my volunteer gig,” Ada adds.
“Speaking of which… Hang on.” Ada turns back to the game booth to shout, “Roly! You got everything under control?” When a dark-haired teenage boy dressed as a mummy gives her a thumbs-up, she spins back to us.
“Sorry. Vaguely supervising the teens tonight.”
“Weirdly enough,” Caroline says to me, “Ada and Adrian also go way back, so, I was like, well, you’re my friend now.”
Typical Lennox Valley—it’s always six degrees of Kevin Bacon around here.
“So, do you make a habit of adopting people into your life without asking, or what? Hey! Ow!” I wince when she elbows me in the ribs, but I can’t wipe the smirk off my face.
“Ada,” I say, lifting my chin her way, “blink twice if you’re here under your own free will.
” Ada barks a laugh as I dodge the next elbow from Caroline, snagging her arm instead, a teasing seriousness in my voice when I chastise, “Violence is never the answer.”
“I like this guy,” Ada says.
Rolling her eyes, Caroline lets me tug her into my side, then yanks my beanie down over my face in retaliation. “It’s a good thing he’s cute.”
I grin as I fix my hair and settle my hat back into place.
“Quick photo for the Lennox Valley Chronicle?” A photographer interrupts us, lifting his camera in question.
“Uh, sure,” I say.
“You all look great,” the guy says as we pose for the photo. “Don’t remember the dinosaur from Little Red Riding Hood, though.”
“Oh, that’s ’cause I ate the wolf,” Ada deadpans. “And the grandma.”
Flash.
Ada and I take turns spelling our names for the guy and swiping out wobbly signatures on a simple release form he’s got on his phone.
Caroline starts to spell hers out when the photographer cuts her off, shaking his head. “Oh, you need no introduction, Ms. Brennan.”
And she says she’s not famous.
He passes her his phone with the waiver ready to go. “Just sign here and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Hey, any headway with that curator of yours?” Ada asks when the photographer leaves.
“I wish,” Caroline replies, her shoulders drooping slightly. “I’ll keep trying, though. The gallery needs a shake-up so bad.”
“Well, if he doesn’t listen, it’s probably ’cause his head is stuck too far up his ass to hear you.”
I tilt my head. Having crossed paths with Julian at the gallery, I’d say she’s not wrong.
Ada gets called back to her game booth duties and promises to meet up with us later.
When I notice the train line has died down, we duck under the ropes to wait under the marquee tent for the next ride.
“So, you got some kind of mutiny planned at work, or what?” I ask as the train chugs slowly to a halt.
She laughs. “Kinda? I’m hoping to get Ada’s pieces in for a local artist exhibition, along with some others… if I can swing it.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Well, it’s not strictly my role.” She does a cute little nose scrunch. “I drew up this proposal for some new events a couple weeks back, which went over well, but I’d love to take on more—plan something bigger.”
People stream out of the small carriage and Caroline smiles softly at a tiny princess who darts off in the wrong direction before her dad snags her hand.
“Sunny loves having my help and wants Julian to include me in some of the curation decisions, but he isn’t very… receptive to input, shall we say?”
“You mean he’s a dick?”
Her jaw drops, though amusement glitters in her eyes. “I did not say that!”
“Didn’t have to.” I shrug.
I love this. Bantering with her. Flirting with her. Joking around and flustering her with my bluntness. It’ll only be a few more days, I remind myself. The election is in less than a week, and I’ve been trying not to think about how it’ll feel to have to drop out of Caroline’s life.
“Anyway, Sunny’s working on him for me. For now, I’m trying to stay in my lane and be patient.”
I lift a brow. “Ah, ‘patience, young Grasshopper.’”
“Hey, put that sex sensei voice away,” she teases quietly. “There are children here.”
As we squeeze into our bench seat on the train, I accidentally sit on the dog toy I’d forgotten was attached to my belt. I can’t tell which is worse: the sudden, shrill squeak when all my weight deflates it, or the slow, drawn-out honk as it reinflates. Caroline and I share an embarrassed laugh.