From his vantage point on top of two stacked hay bales, Vick surveyed the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Rhett. Apart from working his shift at the diner, the man had made himself scarce lately.
Vick suspected it had something to do with whatever spooked him the other day, but he’d been evasive whenever Vick brought it up.
Jumping down to join the festivities, he scanned the sea of faces again, quickly discerning between the new and familiar among the kaleidoscope of colors and merriment.
Bill Tucker prided himself on hosting the Pumpkin & Paws event every year, and he’d spared no expense sprucing up the farm. Even Peggy Sue had a brand-new collar—pink plaid with a plastic sunflower stuck on the side.
If the level of mirth and gaiety was any indication, Bill’s attention to detail had paid off. Happy families toured the pumpkin patch, while others brought their children to the petting zoo, mostly to see the spitting alpacas. The sound of youthful giggles and squeals carried above the clamor of rowdy lawn games like pumpkin bowling and gourd ring toss.
Several people had entered the pumpkin-carving contest and later in the day, they’d host the pumpkin parachute competition, which Vick couldn’t wait to watch.
He hoped Lucy would make it in time. She was supposed to arrive twenty minutes ago, but he hadn’t seen her yet.
Both she and Rhett were MIA.
Vick circled back to the dog adoption booth. The volunteers from the shelter had chosen a shady patch of lawn beneath a golden-leaved walnut tree to set up the pen for the dozens of puppies they’d brought to the event.
The last time he’d walked by, a family of five was adopting a beagle mix with the floppiest ears he’d ever seen. The five-year-old son, who also happened to have large ears, cradled the puppy in his arms, his face a picture of pure joy.
As Vick approached, his heart stuttered to a stop.
Lucy sat cross-legged in the center of the corral, covered in a wiggly pack of fur balls. Some licked her face, others chewed on her hair, a few were nuzzled in her arms and lap.
She’d thrown her head back, her blissful laughter mingling with excited barks, yips, and yaps.
The adorable vignette was too perfect to pass up.
Spotting her camera by her purse on a nearby hay bale, Vick looped the strap over his neck and unscrewed the lens cap.
He snapped a few wide-angle shots, then zoomed in on her expression, capturing the sparkle in her eyes as her laughter brought her close to tears.
One squishy butterball climbed up her shoulder and pressed its pudgy snout against her cheek, both paws splayed to the side as though hugging her face.
The two seemed made for each other, and the endearing sight stirred a warm, tingling feeling in his stomach—which he tried his best to ignore.
Lucy propped up its plump backside with her hand and snuggled the pup with her nose, cooing softly.
The tingling sensation traveled from his stomach into his chest, and Vick lowered the camera, quickly replacing the lens cap.
His face suddenly felt hot, even though it couldn’t have been more than mid to high sixties standing in full sun.
What had come over him?
A twig snapped, and he swiveled to see Sadie standing a few feet away holding two paper to-go cups.
Her wide eyes glinted with surprise, maybe even a hint of trepidation.
She’d caught him watching Lucy, he was almost certain.
He prayed she couldn’t read his mind. Or had his expression given enough away already?
Her features settled into a cautious smile as she spanned the short distance to stand beside him. “Here you go.” She handed him one of the piping-hot beverages. “Lucy said she was meeting you here.”
“Thanks,” he rasped, clearing his throat before taking a sip.
The sweet and spicy cider packed a lot of heat, and he hoped it didn’t accentuate his already blazing face and neck.
He needed to get ahold of himself. But he couldn’t help feeling exposed, somehow, as though Sadie had seen too much.
“Between you and me,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m hoping she’ll fall in love with one of them and it’ll convince her to stay.”
“What do you mean?” His pulse faltered. “Is she going somewhere?”
Sadie shot him a curious glance. “Being in Poppy Creek was always supposed to be temporary. She came back to help with the renovation of the inn. Now that it’s finally open…” She trailed off, but Vick didn’t need her to finish her thought.
Lucy’s job was done. She’d be moving on to something else soon.
All this time, he’d been worried about his plans to leave town, about leaving her behind. When all along, she never intended to stay.
Why hadn’t he realized that before?
And more importantly, why did it bother him so much?
When Lucy finally extricated herself from the pile of puppies, she had the hardest time saying goodbye to the chubby ball of sunshine she guessed to be part golden Labrador. But what would she do with a dog when she had no idea where she’d wind up next?
After a prolonged snuggle, she patted the pup on the head and maneuvered through the swarm of cuteness to join Vick and Sadie.
For a moment, it seemed like she’d interrupted something, but before she had a chance to find out, Sadie handed her a cup of apple cider and excused herself, heading back to her booth.
“Looks like you made a new friend.” Vick nodded toward the pen, and Lucy turned to follow his gaze.
The roly-poly pup pressed her face up to the fence, wiggling her bottom in hopes that she’d come back.
“Oh, she’s breaking my heart.” Lucy pressed a hand to her chest, surprised by the not-so-subtle ache. She’d always loved dogs, and adored babysitting Fitz, but having her own just didn’t seem possible right now.
“What’s stopping you from adopting her?” His tone held a twinge of something more than casual curiosity, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Life, I guess.” Suddenly somber, she sipped her cider, trying not to glance behind her. She couldn’t bear to see those big, pleading brown eyes again. Not after part of her already felt like she’d left a piece of her heart behind in that pen.
How could she explain life’s complications to a dog? It wasn’t just that she might be moving soon. What if she adopted her, then her migraines got worse? What if she had a serious illness that required hospitalization?
As the melancholy thoughts spun in her mind, her throat tightened. She really didn’t want to go down this road right now.
Vick must have sensed her shift in mood, because he asked, “Do you want to walk around a little or get something to eat before we start filming?”
“No, that’s okay.” She managed a smile, genuinely appreciating his considerate suggestion. “We can get started. I don’t want to miss the pumpkin parachute contest.”
They spent the next hour collecting enough footage for the video before following the most mouthwatering aroma to a booth serving warm picarones con miel—Peruvian doughnuts made with pumpkin puree and topped with a fragrant anise and bay leaf infused honey glaze. Armed with two each, they joined the crowd eagerly awaiting the pumpkin parachute competition.
Townspeople gathered on either side of a small field blocked off by caution tape while contestants got in line behind a catapult specially designed for launching pumpkins.
Each contestant fastened a homemade parachute to their pumpkin, which would be hurled straight into the sky, with the goal of landing safely. Winners were chosen based on the degree of splatter. The most intact pumpkin won.
Of course, most of the audience came for the carnage, Lucy included. Even as an adult, she enjoyed the unusual entertainment.
“Who do you think will win?” Vick asked, licking the honey glaze off his fingers.
“Definitely Sammy.” She pointed to a young boy at the end of the line.
“Really?” He didn’t look convinced. “My money’s on that guy.” He gestured toward Brent Jacobs, a high school senior who had a reputation for elaborate, and often high-tech, pranks and shenanigans.
Not a bad guess, but Lucy had the inside track. Sammy went to school with Eliza’s son, Ben, and she raved about what a whiz he was at both science and math. Lucy was pretty sure she’d used the word prodigy to describe the scrawny kid with spiky blue hair and braces.
She was about to tell Vick, when he said, “Care to make things interesting?”
“What did you have in mind?” Something in his expression—both playful and nervous—piqued her curiosity.
“How about a wager? If your guy wins, I’ll buy you dinner tonight. Anywhere you want.”
Lucy blinked, convinced she’d misheard. Did he really say dinner? And anywhere she wanted?
She immediately pictured a cozy little café in Primrose Valley, the one with fancy linens and candles on every tabletop. It would be both charming and very, very private.
“Unless you’re not confident in your choice,” he added when she didn’t respond.
So, she hadn’t been dreaming after all. She swallowed the lump of excitement and uncertainty lodged in her throat. “And what if you win?”
He considered this a moment, and said, “Then I guess you’re buying me dinner.”
He grinned, and Lucy barely refrained from cheering out loud.
Win or lose, they’d have dinner together. Tonight. Was this really happening?
“Deal.” Without thinking, she stuck out her hand to shake on it.
His warm, rough palm closed around hers, and the contact made her momentarily light-headed.
She caught herself before she visibly swayed and retracted her hand from his firm, all-too-intimate grasp.
For the next several minutes, they watched the pumpkins soar into the air and plummet back to earth, smashing against the dirt in an explosion of orange goo and projectile pumpkin seeds. More onlookers arrived, jostling them together in the commotion and excitement. Each time their arms grazed or their shoulders bumped, she forgot how to breathe, which only made her feel woozier.
Yeesh. Get a hold of yourself.
She wasn’t usually the swoony type.
As the sun beat down on them, she wished she’d brought a bottle of water. Dehydration had set in.
By the time Sammy stepped up to the catapult, his tiny frame looked like a distant blur.
Black spots started to form in front of her eyes, and panic gripped her.
Please, no…
Not here. Not now.
The dull pressure lurking in the background grew to a steady throb, escalating more quickly than it ever had before.
Keep it together.
She gritted her teeth, determined to hold the migraine at bay.
But a sharp, piercing dagger stabbed her left temple, catching her off guard.
Instinctively, she pressed a hand to the side of her head, as though she could squash the pain with her palm.
Please, please, not here, she silently whimpered, on the verge of tears as all her long-hoped-for plans slipped through her fingers.
Sucking in a shallow breath, she searched the distorted figures around her for a way out, and prayed for enough strength to disappear without being noticed.
But the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
She wasn’t sure whether it happened within a few minutes or mere seconds, but a strong, steady hand wrapped around her waist, and she finally closed her eyes, desperate for relief.